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shadowkatThere's a picture of the Finance team that the Senior Staff Account hung up that I wish they would take down. But I say nothing, because how vain is that, to want a photo taken down because I can't abide my likeness inside it. That's not me I think. I look nothing like that. And I do not want to be seen that way.
On the subway ride home, surrounded by all shapes and sizes and ages and colors of people, I read a passage in Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami that perfectly illustrates my own feelings about how we should perceive others and how I wish others perceived me. It also articulates some of my frustration with the inadequacy of the term "colorblindness" or "genderblindness" - which is currently being batted about lj as a type of racism or racism in denial or sexism in denial. For me, colorblindness does not mean that you can't see what someone looks like, or what color of skin or race you perceive - but rather, that you fight against using that criteria in making decisions regarding them. You judge them as individuals not as members of a *group*. OR at the very least you attempt to do so. Because, what you see or perceive could be a lie. Just as a camera lies about what people look like, so do the eyes. Just because someone appears to be one thing to your eyes does not mean they are. Our senses are not 100% accurate. Nor is our knowledge regarding someone's racial heritage. Our experiences while helpful aren't a good basis for making a judgment about someone we have just met. For example just because someone wears a turban - does not make them a member of a muslim extremist faction. Or just because they are a woman does not mean that they can't be a fireman. But - I'll shut up - because I think Murakami articulates this a little better than I do in his story.
The passage is a conversation between Oshima, the head librarian at a small library, and two women who are patrolling public facilities to determine how they can be improved to meet the needs of women and not be sexist. It is told in first person and in the pov of Kafka, a 15 year old boy. Since it is fairly long, I'll paraphrase the beginning section.
I strongly recommend reading the book yourself if you get the chance.
The women ask Oshima why there are no separate bathrooms for men and women. Why the cataloguing system puts men before women. Oshima responds that they don't have the money for separate bathrooms, so just have one for both men and women. And the men just happen to come before the women writers in the alphabet. The women accuse him of sidestepping the issue and state that women are uncomfortable sharing bathrooms with men and often experience sexual harrassment. They also state that placing men before women in the cataloguing system demonstrates that women are second class citizens.
They state: " You're employing the status quo and the cheap phallocentric logic that supports it to reduce the entire female gender to second-class citizens, to limit and deprive women of the rights they're due. You're doing this unconsciously rather than deliberately, but that makes you even guiltier. You protect vested male interests and become inured to the pain of others, and don't even try to see what evil your blindness causes women and society. I realize that problems with restrooms and card catalogs are mere details, but if we don't begin with the small things we'll never be able to throw off the cloak of blindness that covers our society. Those are the principles by which we act."
"That's the way every sensible woman feels."
Oshima: "How could any woman of generous spirit behave otherwise, given the torments that I face."
"Electra, by Sophocles. A wonderful play. And by the way, the term gender was originally used to indicate grammatical gender. My feeling is the 'sex' is more accurate in terms of indicating physical sexual difference. Using 'gender' here is incorrect. To put a linguistic fine point on it."
A frozen silence follows.
"At any rate, what you've been saying is fundamentally wrong." Oshima says, calmly yet emphatically. "I am most definitely not a pathetic, historical example of a patriarchic male."
"Then explain, simply, what's wrong with what we've said (the shorter woman says).."Without sidestepping the issue or trying to show off how erudite you are."(the taller one adds)
"All right. I'll do just that - explain it simply and honestly, minus any sidestepping or displays of brilliance."
"We're waiting."
"First of all, I'm not male," Oshima announces.
A dumbfounded silence follows on the part of everybody. I gulp and shoot Oshima a glance.
"I'm a woman," he says.
"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't joke around," the short woman says, after a pause for breath.
Oshima pulls his wallet out of his chinos, takes out the driver's license, and passes it to the woman. She reads what's written there, frowns, and hands it to her tall companion, who reads it and, after a moment's hesitation, gives it back to Oshima, a sour look on her face.
"As you can see, biologically and legally I am undeniably female. Which is why what you've been saying about me is fundamentally wrong. It's simply impossible for me to be, as you put it, a typical sexist, patriarchi male."
"My body is physically female, but my mind's completely male," Oshima goes on. "Emotionally I live as a man. So I suppose your notion of being a historical example may be correct. And maybe I am sexist - who knows. But I'm not a lesbian, even though I dress this way. My sexual preference is for men. In other words, I'm female but I'm gay. I do anal sex, and have never used my vagina for sex. My clitoris is sensitive but my breasts aren't. I don't have a period. So, what am I discriminating against? Could somebody tell me?"
[Later after the women have left, Oshima turns to the narrator, Kafka and gives the following speech which struck a chord in me and I wanted to share and keep track of the important bits here, which isn't as spoilery, but it helps to have read the above passage to appreciate the full meaning:]
I know I'm a little different from everyone else, but I'm still a human being. That's what I'd like you to realize. I'm just a regular person, not some monster. I feel the same things everyone else does, act the same way. Sometimes, though, that small difference feels like an abyss. But I guess there's not much I can do about it....
I've experienced all kinds of discrimination. Only people who've been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I'm as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T.S Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don't want to do. Like that lovely pair we just me. Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas - none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't..."
Kafka:"Cause if you take every single person who lacks imagination seriously, there's no end to it."
"That's it," Oshima says....
"Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe. Of course it's important to know what's right and what's wrong. Individual errors in judgement can usually be corrected. As long as you have the courage to admit mistakes, things can be turned around. But narrow minds with no imagination are like parasites that transform the host, change form, and continue to thrive. They're a lost cause, and I don't want anyone like that coming in here."
End of paraphrased passage. Pp.176-181 of Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami
The inability to see past our own experience, to imagine something we haven't seen or don't know. The inability to question. The inability to look past categories. The inability to admit when we are wrong, even in abject embarrassment. Moral superiority and self-righteousness scare me - in myself and others - because you risk putting people into categories, you stop imagining. Or attempting to understand. I hate to say this, but I know about 90% of the assumptions I make regarding people are probably wrong. I often learn how wrong when I meet and get to know them. I don't believe in love at first sight. And I don't believe in first impressions. That does not mean I don't make them or go by them. I try not to.
I think you usually have to try something before you can judge it. Whether it be a book, a food, a film or a piece of clothing. And I think you have to imagine what it is like to walk in someone else's shoes, to know what it feels like to be them, before you can put them into a box or category that they won't fit.
Colorblindness to me means not judging by what I see. Waiting until I've got more information before I act. Difficult as that is. Judging a person as an individual not as part of a group based on the color of their skin or religion or gender - and I fall down on the job about 65% of the time.
On the subway ride home, surrounded by all shapes and sizes and ages and colors of people, I read a passage in Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami that perfectly illustrates my own feelings about how we should perceive others and how I wish others perceived me. It also articulates some of my frustration with the inadequacy of the term "colorblindness" or "genderblindness" - which is currently being batted about lj as a type of racism or racism in denial or sexism in denial. For me, colorblindness does not mean that you can't see what someone looks like, or what color of skin or race you perceive - but rather, that you fight against using that criteria in making decisions regarding them. You judge them as individuals not as members of a *group*. OR at the very least you attempt to do so. Because, what you see or perceive could be a lie. Just as a camera lies about what people look like, so do the eyes. Just because someone appears to be one thing to your eyes does not mean they are. Our senses are not 100% accurate. Nor is our knowledge regarding someone's racial heritage. Our experiences while helpful aren't a good basis for making a judgment about someone we have just met. For example just because someone wears a turban - does not make them a member of a muslim extremist faction. Or just because they are a woman does not mean that they can't be a fireman. But - I'll shut up - because I think Murakami articulates this a little better than I do in his story.
The passage is a conversation between Oshima, the head librarian at a small library, and two women who are patrolling public facilities to determine how they can be improved to meet the needs of women and not be sexist. It is told in first person and in the pov of Kafka, a 15 year old boy. Since it is fairly long, I'll paraphrase the beginning section.
I strongly recommend reading the book yourself if you get the chance.
The women ask Oshima why there are no separate bathrooms for men and women. Why the cataloguing system puts men before women. Oshima responds that they don't have the money for separate bathrooms, so just have one for both men and women. And the men just happen to come before the women writers in the alphabet. The women accuse him of sidestepping the issue and state that women are uncomfortable sharing bathrooms with men and often experience sexual harrassment. They also state that placing men before women in the cataloguing system demonstrates that women are second class citizens.
They state: " You're employing the status quo and the cheap phallocentric logic that supports it to reduce the entire female gender to second-class citizens, to limit and deprive women of the rights they're due. You're doing this unconsciously rather than deliberately, but that makes you even guiltier. You protect vested male interests and become inured to the pain of others, and don't even try to see what evil your blindness causes women and society. I realize that problems with restrooms and card catalogs are mere details, but if we don't begin with the small things we'll never be able to throw off the cloak of blindness that covers our society. Those are the principles by which we act."
"That's the way every sensible woman feels."
Oshima: "How could any woman of generous spirit behave otherwise, given the torments that I face."
"Electra, by Sophocles. A wonderful play. And by the way, the term gender was originally used to indicate grammatical gender. My feeling is the 'sex' is more accurate in terms of indicating physical sexual difference. Using 'gender' here is incorrect. To put a linguistic fine point on it."
A frozen silence follows.
"At any rate, what you've been saying is fundamentally wrong." Oshima says, calmly yet emphatically. "I am most definitely not a pathetic, historical example of a patriarchic male."
"Then explain, simply, what's wrong with what we've said (the shorter woman says).."Without sidestepping the issue or trying to show off how erudite you are."(the taller one adds)
"All right. I'll do just that - explain it simply and honestly, minus any sidestepping or displays of brilliance."
"We're waiting."
"First of all, I'm not male," Oshima announces.
A dumbfounded silence follows on the part of everybody. I gulp and shoot Oshima a glance.
"I'm a woman," he says.
"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't joke around," the short woman says, after a pause for breath.
Oshima pulls his wallet out of his chinos, takes out the driver's license, and passes it to the woman. She reads what's written there, frowns, and hands it to her tall companion, who reads it and, after a moment's hesitation, gives it back to Oshima, a sour look on her face.
"As you can see, biologically and legally I am undeniably female. Which is why what you've been saying about me is fundamentally wrong. It's simply impossible for me to be, as you put it, a typical sexist, patriarchi male."
"My body is physically female, but my mind's completely male," Oshima goes on. "Emotionally I live as a man. So I suppose your notion of being a historical example may be correct. And maybe I am sexist - who knows. But I'm not a lesbian, even though I dress this way. My sexual preference is for men. In other words, I'm female but I'm gay. I do anal sex, and have never used my vagina for sex. My clitoris is sensitive but my breasts aren't. I don't have a period. So, what am I discriminating against? Could somebody tell me?"
[Later after the women have left, Oshima turns to the narrator, Kafka and gives the following speech which struck a chord in me and I wanted to share and keep track of the important bits here, which isn't as spoilery, but it helps to have read the above passage to appreciate the full meaning:]
I know I'm a little different from everyone else, but I'm still a human being. That's what I'd like you to realize. I'm just a regular person, not some monster. I feel the same things everyone else does, act the same way. Sometimes, though, that small difference feels like an abyss. But I guess there's not much I can do about it....
I've experienced all kinds of discrimination. Only people who've been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I'm as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T.S Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don't want to do. Like that lovely pair we just me. Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas - none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't..."
Kafka:"Cause if you take every single person who lacks imagination seriously, there's no end to it."
"That's it," Oshima says....
"Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe. Of course it's important to know what's right and what's wrong. Individual errors in judgement can usually be corrected. As long as you have the courage to admit mistakes, things can be turned around. But narrow minds with no imagination are like parasites that transform the host, change form, and continue to thrive. They're a lost cause, and I don't want anyone like that coming in here."
End of paraphrased passage. Pp.176-181 of Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami
The inability to see past our own experience, to imagine something we haven't seen or don't know. The inability to question. The inability to look past categories. The inability to admit when we are wrong, even in abject embarrassment. Moral superiority and self-righteousness scare me - in myself and others - because you risk putting people into categories, you stop imagining. Or attempting to understand. I hate to say this, but I know about 90% of the assumptions I make regarding people are probably wrong. I often learn how wrong when I meet and get to know them. I don't believe in love at first sight. And I don't believe in first impressions. That does not mean I don't make them or go by them. I try not to.
I think you usually have to try something before you can judge it. Whether it be a book, a food, a film or a piece of clothing. And I think you have to imagine what it is like to walk in someone else's shoes, to know what it feels like to be them, before you can put them into a box or category that they won't fit.
Colorblindness to me means not judging by what I see. Waiting until I've got more information before I act. Difficult as that is. Judging a person as an individual not as part of a group based on the color of their skin or religion or gender - and I fall down on the job about 65% of the time.
