A Street Harassment Story: A Tale of Differing Reactions

Tags

street harassment, trans, trans issues

Imagine: My ex girlfriend/former roommate, who is a trans woman, and me, walking along, minding our own business, talking about Star Trek. Suddenly:

Creeps across the street, shouting out: Hello, ladies!

I roll my eyes, keep walking, a little faster. The street creeps persist, yelling “I like the skirt! Lift it up please!”

After they’re a reasonably long distance away from us, I started groaning and grumbling about what pigs they were, grateful that they didn’t decide to keep pursuing us. However, she is starry-eyed and smiling. I’m confused.

Jaime: “They called me a lady!”

Star Trek: Into Darkness- Loud, Shiny, & Shallow (Spoiler Alert)

Tags

movies, Spoilers, star trek, star trek into darkness

J.J Abrams’ Star Trek series frustrates me. The first film was okay, apart from a few moments where I cocked my eyebrows and rolled my eyes, it wasn’t terrible. And it was quite entertaining. Maybe I would feel differently if I watched it again now, but tonight, watching Star Trek: Into Darkness, I was quite depressed and frustrated. On its own merits, it was no better nor worse than the average Hollywood film. As a Star Trek film, it was disappointing both cinematically and ideologically. The only thing that made it bearable for me was the soundtrack, the performances, and the costumes (I love those little hats that go with their on-earth uniforms!)

I wasn’t expecting much, honestly, after hearing about Benedict Cumberbatch’s hotly debated role in the film turning out to be Khan. For one thing, above all else, it was horrible whitewashing. The studio seemed aware that what they were doing was wrong and that it would cause public outcry and possibly hurt revenue, so in order to have their cake and eat it too, they kept it under wraps until the last minute. It’s also just a lazy re-hashing of the overly familiar. Star Trek was all about taking risks, but this seemed to be more of a product of elaborate, careful marketing management, every step of the way. I almost didn’t go to see it after hearing about Cumberbatch as Khan, but since it was free, I went tonight.

I wish the film’s only problem had been Khan’s casting. Or even its biggest problem.

Into Darkness opens more like an Indiana Jones film than a Star Trek film, with some visibly angry alien “natives” chasing Kirk and McCoy through a Class M planet’s forest. That was off to a bad start. There was a brief little plot point about the Prime Directive, Kirk’s complete disregard of that in order to save Spock, and saving the Indigenous alien species from their planet’s destruction.

That got me off to a bad start. Star Trek would have been a good place to talk about the ethics surrounding helping an uncontacted civilization; it’s a pertinent problem here and now, with Indigenous peoples in the Amazon facing the threats of encroachment upon their lands by loggers, miners, farmers, ranchers, and dam builders. That’s not what it’s here for though, it’s just to throw around some fancy, familiar words from Star Trek to make the nerdier members of the audience feel at home, and have the chance to do a favourite Hollywood activity of showcasing “primitive” types speaking a made-up “unga-bunga” language, throwing spears, and acting all savage and unsophisticated and shit. This sets the pace for later in the film, when Kirk and Spock briefly open a window to contemplate the issue of going after Khan (known as John Harrison to them at the time) with a guiding weapon on Starfleet’s behalf, carrying out what we might call an “extrajudicial assassination”. Sound familiar? That too, is tossed aside. This is not treated as the place to host such conversations, not when there are explosions to witness and phasers to go pew pew.

The most aggressively problematic elements, after that general strain of gleeful anti-intellectualism and Khan’s casting, is the characterization of our beloved favourites, in particular, Uhura and McCoy. Uhura is shown, shaken after Spock almost sacrifices himself to follow the Prime Directive, to be snappy, unprofessional, and unable to separate her personal feelings for Spock from her duties on her job, bringing up her anger at him during an important mission. Uhura’s competence, intelligence, and ability to act as an asset to the Enterprise temporarily evaporate for the benefit of her having an inconveniently timed lover’s spat. McCoy’s southern gentlemanliness also goes out the window in order to provide a cheap laugh when he’s flirting with Carol Marcus in a lewd, goofy fashion.

Speaking of Carol Marcus, in what’s probably a new record, at least in the films I’ve seen, for most blatant fanservice, we get treated to a scene of her in her underwear. Just out of the blue, for no real reason. It wouldn’t be a JJ Abrams Star Trek film without it, I guess.

The film also, tragically, lacked emotional impact. The fates of the characters were practically meaningless, even when faced with terrible tragedy or life-and-death situations, because of the general sloppiness of the script and the liberal (and seen coming from miles away) use of deus ex machina.

This film only works if you don’t think of it as a Star Trek film. If you must see it, please, by all means, pretend it’s not. Then it’s just a standard pretty-looking science fiction flick which will fade into darkness (hah) with time. That’ll make the film bearable. I can deal with and enjoy loud, shiny, and pointless. What I can’t contend with is this plastic joke being in the same category as the incredible, social justice pioneering phenomenon that is (was?) Star Trek.

What Does Star Trek Mean To Me? (Spoiler-Free Review of Star Trek: Into Darkness)

Tags

science fiction, social justice, star trek, star trek into darkness

I just got back to seeing Star Trek: Into Darkness. I’m going to divide my thoughts into it into two posts, this one will be spoiler-free, the other will contain spoilers and talk more about the film itself. What this review is concerned with is what the direction JJ Abrams is taking means for Star Trek’s power as a means of affecting positive change and providing social commentary for the current times. 

I don’t need to spend too much time talking about what a groundbreaker, game changer, etc etc, that the original Star Trek was. I’m sure most people familiar with Star Trek already know. Star Trek dealt with the issues of the 1960s by showing us a future where we had transcended the troubles caused by these inequalities. Star Trek therefore became a fulcrum for bringing us closer to that idealistic future, rather brilliantly. 

And, in 2013, we still need that. An interracial kiss on television might not make headlines now, and the idea of people of different races and genders being respectful, egalitarian, equally capable, and professional together at work isn’t mind-boggling to most folks. But we haven’t run out of social problems that could use the Star Trek treatment to spark conversation and bring about the changes that will make that future closer to reality. 

Star Trek: Into Darkness, in some parts, tried to rise above its overly dumbed-down calling to be an enjoyable, mainstream, entertaining popcorn flick. Using previously established canons in the Star Trek universe, the film flirts with possibly opening up discussions about the importance of protecting uncontacted Indigenous people from destruction of their traditional homelands, or the ethics surrounding governments employing extrajudicial killings, and what the costs are of a society on the fast track to militarization on the part of trigger-happy officials. But these are all, at best, sniffed then discarded, or at worst, used cheaply for some half-hearted plot advancement that goes nowhere. 

The ultimate problems that I had with Star Trek: Into Darkness, are that while Star Trek in previous incarnations had some silly moments and was imperfect, it was still excellent for promoting conversations, and in many ways, it transcended its time for a better future. This Star Trek, however, doesn’t spark conversations about the problems of today, or show earth as having reached a better tomorrow through the transformative power of progress. It is full of shiny, techno-baubles, but with no indication as how we stopped killing and squabbling long enough to create them and utilize them. With a script (and casting!) mired in racism, sexism, and no introspection at all, this Star Trek functions more like the world’s most expensive, shiny, shallow TED Talk than anything else. 

Autistic & Tattooed: Here’s What It’s Like

Tags

autism, sensory overload, sensory processing, tattoos

 

This, ladies, gentlemen, and gender rebels, is my first tattoo. It took two hours, and was done for a variety of reasons: Most notably, it reconnected me to feeling in-control and in-charge of my body, something which being raped can often take away from someone, especially after a frustrating and slow-moving police case. 

The design is meant to remind me to transcend my problems and my circumstances, rise above them, and soar in the sky, reaching my full potential. 

Now, onto the nitty-gritty stuff: I imagine a lot of people are wondering how I dealt with getting a tattoo, as someone on the spectrum. Tattoos are a sensory experience unique unto themselves, there’s nothing really comparable to the actual tattooing and the aftermath that I’ve experienced in my short 23 years. But I will offer some of the things that I have done in order to make the experience easier for my sensitive body and nerves. 

First off, I made sure to go to a studio which was clean, well-reputed, and used disposable single-use needles. I found an artist whose art style I enjoyed, and discussed my sensory needs with her beforehand. It needn’t be a difficult conversation. Mine went something like this: “Before we get started, I should tell you I have pretty sensitive nerves. I am fine with deep pressure, but light, tickling pressure is totally different, and so is scraping. What sensations can I expect during the tattooing?” I also picked a spot on my body that was relatively non-sensitive, my upper back. She told me it was a deep pain, and that many people actually found it enjoyable. I also brought along my iPod, so that I wouldn’t have to listen to the tattoo needle, which can get pretty noisy. As it turned out though, I actually enjoy the repetitive buzzing of a tattoo gun, and found the deep pressure of getting inked relaxing. For two hours, I listened to the sounds, lay my head in a comfortable spot, and let the tattoo artist do her work. It was more comfortable than a trip to the doctor or the dentist, and was actually quite soothing. The tattoo artist was required to show her tools to me and explain them, and have me watch her put in the new needles and ink, and that helped ease my mind. I also brought a friend with me to help me feel at home and relax. 

The after-care has been more of a challenge. Tattoos are, essentially, inked scars, and that means that the skin is going to flake off, peel, and, above all else, itch like hell. I’ve been moisturizing it, slapping it (The sting of the slap stops the itching) and doing everything in my power to keep it from being itchy or dry. The fact that I can’t see my own tattoo without a mirror means that I have to be very careful when relieving an itch on my back, in case I scratch the tattoo. I’ve been told that a spray bottle full of alcohol will curb the itching, but since alcohol is drying and I don’t want my tattoo to dry out and scab, I am not taking up that bit of advice. I’m just following the little leaflet that my tattoo artist gave me. 

All in all, the best advice that I can give is to find a good artist, pick/create a design that is meaningful and significant to you, have open, honest communication with your artist, take steps you need to feel comfortable, understand what your pain/sensory overload threshold is, and follow the manual when it comes to aftercare. That’s universally applicable, but if there are any other autistic folk out there looking to get inked who weren’t sure, I hope this helps! 

Thank You, Sensei

When I was in Montana, I had one professor whom I respected and admired more than any other. She was an elegant, intelligent, worldly woman, and above all else, she was kind and passionate, both about her work, and about her students learning. She was my first friend in Missoula. 

She also could see, quite plainly, that I was in the wrong field, and in retrospect, I can see all of the ways she gently tried to encourage me to consider other fields of study besides Japanese. She loved having me in her literature courses, and I always received very good marks in them. She was a wonderfully encouraging editor, and she made me focus like a laser in my academic writing, so that it became much less rambling and more coherent and airtight. But when it came to the language front, I struggled. I’ve always loved languages, but with Japanese, I had a mental block on it. I couldn’t flourish in the language the way that I could in Russian, or Yiddish, or Hawaiian, or, most recently, Blackfoot. 

She never discouraged me though, or pressured me to stop taking Japanese or switch majors. Instead, she introduced me to professors in other departments, such as Women’s Studies, Anthropology, English, Liberal Arts, and others. She lent me books on a great variety of topics, including one which sparked and transformed my understanding of colonialism. 

This was a very encouraging way for me to eventually come to realize, on my own, that Japanese wasn’t  for me, because it meant that I came to that epiphany myself, rather than having someone tell it to me, which is the only way I typically learn, stubborn as I am. It also meant that I already had other options open to me, and didn’t feel like I failed in one field and therefore wasn’t capable in any field at university. 

I’m out of Montana now, and I want to write this professor an email. Tell her about how I went from being a struggling, so-so student into a straight-A honours student on the path to grad school and a great variety of possibilities in academia, all of which I feel strongly passionate about. I still use the knowledge I gained from Sensei’s classes. When people who have never taken a course in non-Western literature declare Don Quixote the “oldest” novel, I’m able to cite The Tale of Genji. When I met my hero, the poet Chrystos, we conversed about Japanese literature, and I mailed Chrystos a book of poetry by Japanese courtly women for her to have. I have the tools, thanks to these classes, to read far and wide, internationally, and realize that I am going to carry the baggage of my cultural and historical contexts and assumptions with me when reading, and can do my best to catch them and stop them, so that I can appreciate the work better on its own merits. I appreciate so much because of my beginning in Japanese Studies, and my wonderful Sensei. 

If you’re reading this Rabinovitch-Sensei, I’m doing wonderfully, in UVic Women’s Studies. I found my path. Good luck guiding more and more students, wherever it is they end up, I know you make a positive impact on them. 

Okagesama deshita. 

 

The View from My New Bedroom

Tags

moving, new house, personal, yay!

What the most recent BC Election taught me about political and community involvement

Tags

british columbia, canada, Canadian politics, politics

Right now, there are a lot of angry people on my Facebook, and in my community at large, over the most recent election. Surprising everyone, myself included, the BC Liberals have been elected, yet again, even after a twelve-year bungling of just about everything imaginable under the sun in this province. It’s making me miserable. I’m counting down the years until I can finish my undergrad degree and hopefully high-tail to York University, and I fear for the teachers, students, First Nations, disabled, mentally ill, and poor in this province.

A combination of factors can be blamed for that, low voter turnout is probably at the top of the list, the left-wing vote being split by the Green Party running so many candidates, the BC Liberals running a rather repulsive smear campaign which brought up dirt on the BC NDP from ages ago, and the BC NDP responding with a tepid, “no negativity” campaign which failed to call the BC Liberals on their bullshit and let the public believe that the Liberals were the better choice on economic issues (all evidence to the contrary), and hints of either outright voter suppression or just poor training of Elections Canada staff.

Either way, I’ve been seeing a lot of people on my Facebook being angry and passive-aggressive towards non-voters, and those who do a protest vote by spoiling their ballots. Status updates like “Wow thanks a lot, non-voters, now we’ve got four more years of this”, or “Thanks for delivering a Liberal win again”.

I have a very different reaction though, from impotent anger at non-voters/protest voters. The reason is, I know people who don’t vote, and they are far from politically apathetic. They are involved in advocacy in a variety of capacities, whether its engaging in protest, letter-writing, direct action, donating time, money, or food/goods to causes they believe in, or getting involved in larger organizations or campaigns, ranging from IdleNoMore to the Unist’ot’en Camp to Divest UVic to Defend Our Coast to Amnesty International to Greenpeace.

I respect their reasons for not voting, because they are, every other day of the year, and sometimes on Election Day, out there fighting for what they believe in, and making a great deal of difference. I’ve seen some amazing results come about from these campaigns, and the passion and heart they pour into these projects is unparalleled. To tell you the truth, I feel that they make more of a difference every day than people whose idea of performing civic duty only extends to checking a box once every four years, and then otherwise passively trusting the politicians to do the right thing, or believing you have to wait until you can check a different box in a couple of years.

It would be nice if, right now, we had a party in power that were more receptive to the causes that me and my friends fight for. I am terrified for the vulnerable in BC. I fear for the future of our entire planet, with the tanker-happy Liberals in power once again. But if you are dissatisfied with the results and then just go back to your usual routine of disengagement after you didn’t get what you wanted, then it’s not the non-voting activists who are the real problem here. Have a look in the mirror, and ask yourself why you feel checking that box is the first, the last, and only way to speak up for what you believe in. It’s not. Join us in the streets, and come see what power comes from letting the politicians know that it ain’t over when the election’s over.

Oh, and if you’re wondering, I voted for Jessica Van Der Veen, an NDP candidate who was defeated by Green candidate Andrew Weaver in the Oak Bay riding. And you are most definitely not off the hook if you don’t vote and aren’t doing something to challenge this system and make things more fair and just.

Embrace the Esoteric

Tags

autism, school, special interests

I’ve had a variety of “special interests” (if you so wish to call it that) over my lifetime. When I was very young, I had a deep love of Greek mythology, inspired by my now well-worn copy of D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths. I still have fond memories of dragging this enormous volume, comparable to a phone book in my five-year old hands, to the beach with me and reading it in the sunshine on my beach towel. This evolved into a love of astronomy, since I grew interested in the constellations patterned off of the heroes and gods I read about.

I can’t list all of my other special interests, but they’ve ranged from international McDonalds menus to Japanese erotic photography. One of the reasons I have managed to do so well in university is because a brain like mine, which can absorb a great deal on a great deal of topics, is well-suited to a university environment.

That’s why it vexes me when I see parents and guardians of autistic children try to quash a child’s special interest, because they see it as socially/age inappropriate, or too esoteric. I’ve met autism parents who were terrified that their children would miss out on a chance to make friends and enjoy life because they had a “fixation” (their word) on vacuum cleaners, or botany, or different types of cheese (all real examples).

Having oddball interests isn’t going to socially isolate an autistic kid. It makes them come to life, gives them something which makes life interesting and vibrant, and allows them to discover a new world. These are all things that you’ll see come in handy in university. One of the things I love most about university is being surrounded by other people who are infatuated with a particular topic, and have decided to explore it with all of the passion and inspiration they could muster, professors and students alike.

If you ask me, that payoff, as well as a chance at having a lifetime to continue to explore that interest, is worth far more than worrying about whether the kids in elementary school think that you’re weird. I shrug at being teased for my special interests now, they’re giving me more satisfaction than a shallow, self-congratulatory manifestation of peer-belonging ever could.

Confessions of a Neurotypical Mask

Tags

abuse, autism, child development, children, neurodiversity, therapy

When I was young, the biggest preoccupation of adults in my life, for all their good intentions, was to get me to act more “normally/neurotypical/normatively”. Endless hours were spent training me how to mimic neurotypical behaviour. I can say with perfect honesty that attempts to “fix” my autism or mask it did a lot more harm to my psyche than the autism itself ever could. It manifests in a variety of neurotic, unhealthy, hurtful behaviours for me which I am slowly dismantling, day by day.

The funny thing that I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older and worked on regaining what I see as my true self, under the layers of self-doubt and internalized ableism from being coached to act like an ideal person I was never meant to be, is that the neurotypical mask I wore actually alienated me from making friends and being socially well-adjusted.

Here I am, at twenty-three, and there’s nothing but shards of that mask left clinging to my face. I’ve managed to dismantle most of it, and I’m, for the most part, hand-flappingly happy to be me. I don’t hide my stims in public, I don’t bother trying to disguise my natural voice, and I can babble about my special interests for as long as I have an interested audience. And I have more friends now than I ever did before when I was trying my best to pass as neurotypical. My friends are from a diversity of neurotypes, only about two of them are autistic, the rest are a blend of either neurotypical or non-autistic.

I don’t have a perfect, articulate explanation for why this is. It could be a variety of factors. My self-esteem at being proud of my own autistic self, finding people who are accepting and embracing of neurodiversity, and being a much more interesting person when I’m not trying to be someone else are probably the top three factors.

What I’m getting at with this is to remind the world (or my blog readership) that therapies and behavioural modification which focuses on squashing the autism in order to save the supposed “normal” child inside doesn’t do that at all. It creates a maladjusted, self-conscious child who must constantly reflect on how their natural state is a flawed one, and obsess over micro-managing their own behaviour, at the expense of a chance to grow organically into a beautiful, interesting, unique individual. You don’t save any child, hypothetical or real, in that, you instead create a downtrodden child who will, unless they are fortunate enough to find the strength to overcome the damaging messages told to them in such therapy, grow up into a downtrodden adult. Not the kind who makes friends and gets invited to social outings or feels love in their lives, just the kind who will be perennially neglected, abused, and marginalized. And they will accept it, because something will remind them deep down, that they deserve it, for not mimicking well enough.

The Big Switch and the Long-Term Plan

Tags

academia, autism, classes, disability, school, university, women's studies

Well, it’s not official yet, but in a few weeks, when summer classes start, I am going to switch my major from Pacific & Asian Studies to Women’s Studies. I took my first two women’s studies classes this last semester, and while, thanks to personal traumas, this semester was far less than enjoyable, I got all A’s on my courses and greatly enjoyed the material that I covered in my courses. Being in women’s studies made me feel powerful. Let me explain why, and offer some insights into why I feel that this is the discipline for me. 

The two classes I took were drastically different: Medicalization of Sex was the first one, and Word Warriors (A course on Indigenous Women’s Literature) The first one was more sociological in nature, and I did one large research project at the end where I explored one particular book’s problematic approach to the sexuality of autistic youth (Condensed version: Teaching autistic young people to be ashamed of their sexuality and only see one “proper” mode of sexual expression, victimizing autistic women who enjoy sex, and seeing heterosexual, monogamous relationships meant to end in marriage as the unwavering ideal). But the course was ultimately empowering and hopeful to me, because the theme throughout was resistance to medicalization and a belief in being able to reverse the dangerous course of action which has put the emphasis on over-medicalizing the petty problems of the middle-class and stigmatizing the bodies and minds of those who are disabled or otherwise deemed “sick” or “broken”.

The other course dealt with the themes of survival and resistance in poetry, plays, and novels written by Indigenous women. What was different about these two courses from others I had taken throughout my university career is that I was able to seamlessly blend my own experiences into class discussions, along with the class materials. In most classes in Pacific & Asian Studies, I kept my personal opinions and experiences to a bare minimum. I might, once in a while, consider my own experiences, such as when writing a paper on the experiences of displaced peoples in Asia and whether they could be compared to diaspora groups in North America, but I mostly considered myself to be more or less detached from the material. I was passionate about it, but removed. 

In Women’s Studies, however, I got the chance to tell my stories and have my life experiences figure into my academic experience. I imagine there are a great deal of many scholars who are scoffing at my description of that, thinking that it makes me a poor scholar, or women’s studies a shoddy field built more on sharing feelings than doing academia, but I find the opposite to be true: Being able to use my own experiences as a disabled woman, for instance, in my Medicalization of Sex course, meant I could avoid the tragic pitfalls of other scholars before me, who hadn’t considered moving away from the medical model of defining disability. This enriched my research, as I knew first-hand what kind of language and attitudes to avoid replicating, and could actually think creatively on the topic. 

What pleases me the most about Women’s Studies is the intersectional approach. I’m given free reign in this department to research how one’s experiences (my own included) as a woman, interact with my experiences in the realm of disability, race, and sexuality. So, I am hoping I will be able to do an honour’s thesis in the department, studying the topic of depictions of autistic romantic relationships and sexuality, and how a less medicalized, more inclusive model of sexuality which emphasizes happiness and personal satisfaction can replace the current de facto. Women’s Studies is the only department which allows me such freedom, since Disability Studies is such a new field in academia. 

If all goes well, I would love to continue researching this, and maybe find myself at York University’s Disability Studies Master’s Department. I’ve come to life with the chance to bring topics that I love and know so intimately into my work and my passion. 

Wish me luck!