It shouldn't bother me, but it does. It was just a little freckle, but it was part of me for so long, and I just cut it out. It was just an innocent little freckle, and now it's gone.
I have such a hard time with losing things. A part of me grieves over them for years. The jelly shoe I lost in a lake, the little stuffed baby panda, my childhood rocking chair, I think of them every now and then and regret their absence. Part of the problem is that I anthropomorphize everything. I imagine that all these things are somewhere, feeling sad. Now I have one more thing to regret the loss of.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
New publication - The Doll After Play
My poem, The Doll After Play, appears in the latest issue of The Pedestal Magazine, published yesterday. I wrote the majority of the poem over two years ago, after reading Hans Bellmer: The Anatomy of Anxiety by Sue Taylor. I’ve been drawn to Bellmer’s work ever since first being exposed to it in college. What struck me most about it is how his dolls take on a life of their own and don’t seem to be merely meticulously posed props. They seem to speak on their own, and their voice speaks louder than Bellmer’s.
Each tableau is an enactment of Bellmer’s fantasies, but (for me at least) his desire is subsumed by the dolls’ awareness. Their gazes—sometimes complicit, sometimes castigating, sometimes lost, sometimes knowing—are what drew me to them. These were complex creatures, with desires and intentions and conflicts all their own. Perhaps Bellmer created (consciously or unconsciously) this complexity because he saw in his victim, as abusers often do, a desire to be brutalized. And perhaps he created each scene from the perspective of the attacker (or a complicit voyeur) and always meant for any observer to view them from the same perspective. But perhaps his own inner conflict, his own desires to punish and to be punished, allowed other subtexts to creep in. Certainly whenever I viewed the images, I identified with the dolls, not the abuser, and I found their thoughts, their desires much more compelling than Bellmer’s—particularly the ones that meshed with his.
I therefore set about to write what these dolls seemed to be saying. I meant to give a voice to them but soon discovered that they had always had one, so my poem is merely a transcription of what I heard them saying to me.
Anyone familiar with Bellmer’s Doll at Play may recognize some allusions to it in my poem. I’m not sure what the effect of the poem is on someone unfamiliar with Bellmer’s work. I can only hope it’s still evocative and can stand on its own without the propping up of context.
I’m very pleased to have it published, and I’m honored that my little poem is nestled in among such fine work. I thank The Pedestal Magazine for selecting my poem for publication.
Each tableau is an enactment of Bellmer’s fantasies, but (for me at least) his desire is subsumed by the dolls’ awareness. Their gazes—sometimes complicit, sometimes castigating, sometimes lost, sometimes knowing—are what drew me to them. These were complex creatures, with desires and intentions and conflicts all their own. Perhaps Bellmer created (consciously or unconsciously) this complexity because he saw in his victim, as abusers often do, a desire to be brutalized. And perhaps he created each scene from the perspective of the attacker (or a complicit voyeur) and always meant for any observer to view them from the same perspective. But perhaps his own inner conflict, his own desires to punish and to be punished, allowed other subtexts to creep in. Certainly whenever I viewed the images, I identified with the dolls, not the abuser, and I found their thoughts, their desires much more compelling than Bellmer’s—particularly the ones that meshed with his.
I therefore set about to write what these dolls seemed to be saying. I meant to give a voice to them but soon discovered that they had always had one, so my poem is merely a transcription of what I heard them saying to me.
Anyone familiar with Bellmer’s Doll at Play may recognize some allusions to it in my poem. I’m not sure what the effect of the poem is on someone unfamiliar with Bellmer’s work. I can only hope it’s still evocative and can stand on its own without the propping up of context.
I’m very pleased to have it published, and I’m honored that my little poem is nestled in among such fine work. I thank The Pedestal Magazine for selecting my poem for publication.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The question of evolution
There has lately been some discussion among my Christian acquaintances about teaching evolution in Christian schools. Most are opposed to it, or would accept it as long as it is taught in tandem with the creationist apologies that “refute” evolutionary theories. This discussion has prompted two prongs of thought in me.
First, I am appalled by the intellectual censorship that these acquaintances are promoting. Students educated with blinders on will be ill-prepared for independent reasoning. If students are told what to think, they will have a hard time thinking their own thoughts. Besides that, such a policy of censorship is unfavorable to the creationists’ stance. It suggests so great a weakness in their position that it cannot withstand even the slightest scrutiny. Why else would they be so afraid that students who are taught evolution will embrace it and reject creationism?
It would, in fact, benefit creationists to allow students to analyze the evidence and ponder the questions involved in both positions and reach their own conclusions. Students who are taught in this manner may be able to formulate new, powerful defenses of creationism, or they will find it easier to retain some sort of faith if they do embrace evolutionism.
Second, I find myself hounded by questions relating to evolution. For instance, what drove land animals into the cold, dark sea? (Note, I’m not questioning whether it happened—that is of little consequence—but why.) What events transpired to cause angler fish to evolve in such a way that the male has only a meager existence as little more than a sac of sperm attached to the female angler fish’s side? For that matter, why would cats evolve barbed penises that make the essential act of coition absolutely unpleasant, and how does the drive to reproduce overcome that unpleasantness?
There are less scientific and more philosophical questions as well. How did we develop a concept like honor, which is often in distinct contradiction to the drive to live and reproduce? And, if gods aren’t real, why did humans create them?
First, I am appalled by the intellectual censorship that these acquaintances are promoting. Students educated with blinders on will be ill-prepared for independent reasoning. If students are told what to think, they will have a hard time thinking their own thoughts. Besides that, such a policy of censorship is unfavorable to the creationists’ stance. It suggests so great a weakness in their position that it cannot withstand even the slightest scrutiny. Why else would they be so afraid that students who are taught evolution will embrace it and reject creationism?
It would, in fact, benefit creationists to allow students to analyze the evidence and ponder the questions involved in both positions and reach their own conclusions. Students who are taught in this manner may be able to formulate new, powerful defenses of creationism, or they will find it easier to retain some sort of faith if they do embrace evolutionism.
Second, I find myself hounded by questions relating to evolution. For instance, what drove land animals into the cold, dark sea? (Note, I’m not questioning whether it happened—that is of little consequence—but why.) What events transpired to cause angler fish to evolve in such a way that the male has only a meager existence as little more than a sac of sperm attached to the female angler fish’s side? For that matter, why would cats evolve barbed penises that make the essential act of coition absolutely unpleasant, and how does the drive to reproduce overcome that unpleasantness?
There are less scientific and more philosophical questions as well. How did we develop a concept like honor, which is often in distinct contradiction to the drive to live and reproduce? And, if gods aren’t real, why did humans create them?
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I read a couple of articles today (here and here) about facial reconstructive surgeries. These are not the first stories of this kind I've read. These stories tend toward the maudlin, the saccharine. They are told with a cloying chicken-soup-for-the-soul mentality. They tend to take place after recovery (or the extent of recovery anyone with such massive injuries can achieve), when the one who's been disfigured can speak with an equanimity that would be impossible at the zenith of their suffering.
Even their pain and the pain of their families are filtered through the normate reporter's pen. It is portrayed in broad strokes, the grief of being rejected and ridiculed glossed over or spoken of casually, and it is usually only included to show the contrast between what their life was like then and what it's like now.
It makes me wonder. (Here comes the complaining now, you think; she's always complaining about something.)
Now, I'm not going to criticize these people's efforts to have a more "normal" face. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to be missing parts of your face, to not be able to smell or eat solid food or even breathe on your own. Whatever stares and insensitive remarks I have received in my life must pale in comparison to the stupidity of norms these people have experienced. I don't fault them at all for their wish to be independent or to simply blend in.
What I do fault is the way in which these stories are told. I wish someone would have the bravery to explore this issue just a little more in-depth. That would also require the bravery to explore their own prejudices.
Particularly galling is the last page of the second article. Here, a sentence etched on a church door in Italy is quoted: "It is the divine right of man to look human." Why this should be etched on a church door is one question. What this is supposed to mean is another.
Yes, though the quotation may sound "cool" to someone who doesn't stop to think about it, it is in fact meaningless. What does "divine right" mean? What good is "divine right" when humans (and circumstance) get in there and muck everything up? We might say it is the divine right of every human to be free, but that doesn't mean very much to those in bondage. Sure, we might grant such people freedom, but then "divine right" really had little to do with it: freedom was taken away and bestowed by humans.
So what meaning does this sentence hold for a man whose "divine right" was taken away by a suicide bomber? How much less meaning does the phrase hold for someone who was born (some might say sculpted by divine hands) not looking human? What happened to their divine right? Is God joking with them?
Furthermore, who exactly decides what looks human? Sure, there is a mode (as in mean, median and mode) of humanity. Most people have two legs, two arms, a face with two eyes, a nose, a mouth. But soon things start to get tricky. Most people fall within a certain range of heights, but it's pretty arbitrary when you can say to someone, "Just one inch taller and you'd just be short, not a little person," or "Just one inch shorter and you'd just be tall, not a giant." Things can get really ridiculous. Most people have hair on their heads. Shall we then say that bald people don't look human? No, clearly that's just silly. Why, then, is it not silly to say a person with burn scars all over their face doesn't look human? Why is it that an amputee passes for human (if just barely), but someone with swollen or withered limbs does not? And why, why, why do norms assume that everyone feels the same way they do? The whole tone of this piece assumes a hierarchy of appearance. "Oh, the poor disfigured man," it says. "But yay! Now he's better. Phew! I don't know what we'd say if he weren't better." Even when it discusses the hard times he went through because of norms' stupidity, it takes the stance that, well, it's unfortunate that he had to suffer like that, but it's understandable, and plus, now he's fixed, so everything's better.
Okay. Things may be better for him, but what about the rest of us? What about those of us who can't be "fixed"? We still have to suffer the stares and the whispers, sometimes even, most hurtful of all, the looks of shock that seem to say, "What the eff is that?" We still have to suffer the stupid comments and the trepidation. And I'll go out on a limb here and say that for most of us, the biggest problem we have with our disabilities is not the things we can't do; it's the constant barrage of stupidity from norms.
Now, it's not entirely their fault. They probably don't get to see a lot freaks in their day-to-day lives, so they don't know how to respond when they do see one. The only solution is for us freaks to be more visible. If every norm knew one deformed person, they wouldn't be so thoughtless toward the deformed strangers they meet. But that would mean we would have to expose ourselves to the world, and that's hard to do when confronted with such stupidity. Ah, it's a vicious circle indeed.
Even their pain and the pain of their families are filtered through the normate reporter's pen. It is portrayed in broad strokes, the grief of being rejected and ridiculed glossed over or spoken of casually, and it is usually only included to show the contrast between what their life was like then and what it's like now.
It makes me wonder. (Here comes the complaining now, you think; she's always complaining about something.)
Now, I'm not going to criticize these people's efforts to have a more "normal" face. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to be missing parts of your face, to not be able to smell or eat solid food or even breathe on your own. Whatever stares and insensitive remarks I have received in my life must pale in comparison to the stupidity of norms these people have experienced. I don't fault them at all for their wish to be independent or to simply blend in.
What I do fault is the way in which these stories are told. I wish someone would have the bravery to explore this issue just a little more in-depth. That would also require the bravery to explore their own prejudices.
Particularly galling is the last page of the second article. Here, a sentence etched on a church door in Italy is quoted: "It is the divine right of man to look human." Why this should be etched on a church door is one question. What this is supposed to mean is another.
Yes, though the quotation may sound "cool" to someone who doesn't stop to think about it, it is in fact meaningless. What does "divine right" mean? What good is "divine right" when humans (and circumstance) get in there and muck everything up? We might say it is the divine right of every human to be free, but that doesn't mean very much to those in bondage. Sure, we might grant such people freedom, but then "divine right" really had little to do with it: freedom was taken away and bestowed by humans.
So what meaning does this sentence hold for a man whose "divine right" was taken away by a suicide bomber? How much less meaning does the phrase hold for someone who was born (some might say sculpted by divine hands) not looking human? What happened to their divine right? Is God joking with them?
Furthermore, who exactly decides what looks human? Sure, there is a mode (as in mean, median and mode) of humanity. Most people have two legs, two arms, a face with two eyes, a nose, a mouth. But soon things start to get tricky. Most people fall within a certain range of heights, but it's pretty arbitrary when you can say to someone, "Just one inch taller and you'd just be short, not a little person," or "Just one inch shorter and you'd just be tall, not a giant." Things can get really ridiculous. Most people have hair on their heads. Shall we then say that bald people don't look human? No, clearly that's just silly. Why, then, is it not silly to say a person with burn scars all over their face doesn't look human? Why is it that an amputee passes for human (if just barely), but someone with swollen or withered limbs does not? And why, why, why do norms assume that everyone feels the same way they do? The whole tone of this piece assumes a hierarchy of appearance. "Oh, the poor disfigured man," it says. "But yay! Now he's better. Phew! I don't know what we'd say if he weren't better." Even when it discusses the hard times he went through because of norms' stupidity, it takes the stance that, well, it's unfortunate that he had to suffer like that, but it's understandable, and plus, now he's fixed, so everything's better.
Okay. Things may be better for him, but what about the rest of us? What about those of us who can't be "fixed"? We still have to suffer the stares and the whispers, sometimes even, most hurtful of all, the looks of shock that seem to say, "What the eff is that?" We still have to suffer the stupid comments and the trepidation. And I'll go out on a limb here and say that for most of us, the biggest problem we have with our disabilities is not the things we can't do; it's the constant barrage of stupidity from norms.
Now, it's not entirely their fault. They probably don't get to see a lot freaks in their day-to-day lives, so they don't know how to respond when they do see one. The only solution is for us freaks to be more visible. If every norm knew one deformed person, they wouldn't be so thoughtless toward the deformed strangers they meet. But that would mean we would have to expose ourselves to the world, and that's hard to do when confronted with such stupidity. Ah, it's a vicious circle indeed.
Monday, April 20, 2009
The phenomenon of Susan Boyle
Why should I even be writing about Susan Boyle? She's not disabled (that we know), but she is, in some sense, a freak. Why do I say this? It's not just because she is that rare and freakish thing on TV: a woman who does not have model good looks. I sense something in her, some kinship with her, as she swivels her hips, saying, in response to a question about her age, "47. And that's just one side of me" (what does that even mean?). Clearly, the kinship does not extend too far; I know my place; I have some sense of what constitutes appropriate behavior—two things Ms. Boyle seems to lack, or ignore. No, I would never put on such a display, but I recognize in her someone who has, like me, been unsure of herself, who has, like me, been made to feel less worthy (ahem, less of a commodity) than the perfect, beautiful girls of the world.
More than that, I recognize her as a freak because of the way the audience responds to her. Watch the full video, and you get more of a glimpse of the derision with which the audience regards her. "This is a ridiculous woman," they are thinking. "I am going to get a good laugh at this." Indeed, most people are laughing already, as soon as Ms. Boyle walks on the stage. It's not merely her physical appearance; it's the way she carries herself, the way she presents herself. You can sense she's a little socially awkward, perhaps unaware of her ridiculousness. Yes, the audience can smell a freak, and Ms. Boyle is certainly a freak.
That doesn't change when she starts to sing. What? Why would I say that? Isn't that the reason she has become an Internet sensation? Because everyone was wrong about her? Because she turned out to have an amazing talent?Well, that doesn't make her any less of a freak. She, like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, turned out to be a useful freak, one that we can like and root for, but a freak nevertheless.
What irks me is all these norms talking about her, showing her Youtube clips to their friends, saying, "Isn't she amazing?" as though they're on team Boyle, as though they're truly sympathetic to her. Imagine for a moment that she had not surprised anyone. Imagine that she had turned out to be as terrible a singer as everyone thought she would be. All these people who are rooting for her now would, instead, have had a good laugh at the freak. And that is all.
Have these norms learned their lesson? Will they not be so quick to judge in the future? Does their admiration for Ms. Boyle somehow exculpate them? Heavens no! After Ms. Boyle leaves the stage, they'll bring out the next freak, and everyone will have a good laugh at them, and so on, ad infinitum.
More than that, I recognize her as a freak because of the way the audience responds to her. Watch the full video, and you get more of a glimpse of the derision with which the audience regards her. "This is a ridiculous woman," they are thinking. "I am going to get a good laugh at this." Indeed, most people are laughing already, as soon as Ms. Boyle walks on the stage. It's not merely her physical appearance; it's the way she carries herself, the way she presents herself. You can sense she's a little socially awkward, perhaps unaware of her ridiculousness. Yes, the audience can smell a freak, and Ms. Boyle is certainly a freak.
That doesn't change when she starts to sing. What? Why would I say that? Isn't that the reason she has become an Internet sensation? Because everyone was wrong about her? Because she turned out to have an amazing talent?Well, that doesn't make her any less of a freak. She, like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, turned out to be a useful freak, one that we can like and root for, but a freak nevertheless.
What irks me is all these norms talking about her, showing her Youtube clips to their friends, saying, "Isn't she amazing?" as though they're on team Boyle, as though they're truly sympathetic to her. Imagine for a moment that she had not surprised anyone. Imagine that she had turned out to be as terrible a singer as everyone thought she would be. All these people who are rooting for her now would, instead, have had a good laugh at the freak. And that is all.
Have these norms learned their lesson? Will they not be so quick to judge in the future? Does their admiration for Ms. Boyle somehow exculpate them? Heavens no! After Ms. Boyle leaves the stage, they'll bring out the next freak, and everyone will have a good laugh at them, and so on, ad infinitum.
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