Gender, Non-Binary, and Things (or, the Likelihood of Failure)
As you may have heard, I changed my review guidelines so I could join my podcast, The Skiffy and Fanty Show, in its 2015 “Women and Non-Binary in SFF” theme. This post isn’t really about that so much as the related subject of life and getting things right. Or, rather, getting things wrong and hoping for forgiveness. Already, I can tell that my efforts to provide representation for women and non-binary folks is going to an informative journey through no fault of the people involved. Learning is, after all, partly experiential, and so it’s unlikely I can go through a year with such a clear focus without picking up on my own failings or picking up new behaviors, habits, concerns, dreams, aspirations, and so on. I’m the type of person who finds something they love or care about, and then I start dreaming about all the ways I can do that thing, often knowing deep down that I won’t be able to paint the whole picture with the resources on hand. Ambitious to a fault, if you will, about the things that matter to me, or that I find I’m most passionate about. Podcasting and issues of representation happen to be two of the things from which I currently derive the most joy. Partly, that’s because I find podcasting to be a great deal of fun — reading books, watching movies, and hanging out with friends; what’s not to love? And while issues of representation don’t provide the same kind of joy, they are something about which I am deeply passionate (if my Twitter feed were not already an indication). It’s something I try to get right, not just in terms of science fiction and fantasy, but in terms of my everyday life. Representation encompasses so much of the world we live in, and it informs so much of the life I now lead. That’s why I wanted this year’s theme to be “Women and Non-Binary in SFF.” I wanted the thing I love doing to be part of the thing that I am deeply passionate about, but in an explicit, “out there” sense. This is about doing what I think is important and right. In truth, I will fail at this — sometimes miserably. I will identify people by the wrong pronouns, even when I know it’s incorrect; habit will often get the best of me. I will also assume a gender or sex for someone because I don’t know how to ask, or I may just get it wrong because I’m monumentally stupid sometimes. In fact, I’ve already done some of these in the past (thankfully, to someone who is enormously gracious with their forgiveness). I will fail in ways I can’t even imagine right now, because there’s so much I still don’t know or understand about gender, sex, sexism, patriarchy, women, non-binary people, and all manner of related topics. The things I don’t know could fill the Grand Canyon. In truth, I haven’t been a good feminist for my whole life. At times, I have been anything but. I’ve done things I know now were wrong — and probably knew were wrong then, but used all kinds of mental gymnastics to convince myself otherwise. Things that sometimes haunt me when I realize I was one of “those” guys, even though I was also one of “those” guys, too (relentlessly bullied, depressed (still), insecure (yeah, still), hopeless). But being one of “those” guys didn’t make it okay for me to be one of “those” guys. And I still feel a deep need to atone for the wrongs I have done, not just to women, but to all manner of people. Not because any individual demands it, but because I want to be part of the solution, not the problem. I want to be a better person tomorrow than I am today. I want to be the best person that I can be, even though I know perfection is impossible and that I will always be just shy of the mark no matter what. But striving to be something “more” in life is, I think, more important than succeeding and moving on. So this is going to be a year where I try to be a good person, where I will fail, and where I will apologize. By 2016, I hope I am a much better person than I was when this year began. We shall see.
On The Interview, Terrorism, and the Artistic Expression
By now, you’ll have heard that Sony had opted to cancel the release of Seth Rogen and Ethan Goldberg’s The Interview (2014)(starring Rogen and James Franco) in response to threats against their employees and movie theaters (many of which have refused to show the film). They have since announced that the film will play in select theaters on Christmas Day and that they are still trying to find places to play the film so it will have a proper release. Now, it seems, the film’s future is up to theaters. Update: On Christmas afternoon, Sony will also release The Interview via several streaming sites, including Google. So at least we can all see it if we want to. Chuck Wendig has already written an interesting post on the situation, and if it’s not already obvious, I have a few thoughts. But first, a quote from Wendig: This proves that hackers, terrorists, and enemy nations now have a vote as to the media we make and the stories we see. That’s blood gone cold scary. This sounds like the plot of a Neal Stephenson or William Gibson novel, or worse, the plot of a novel by someone trying to emulate them. (“The sky was the color of a movie theater screen not carrying Sony’s THE INTERVIEW.”) Disagreeable and controversial art is an essential element of our cultural discourse. These are the two points that I want to address here. Precedents and Cowardice The first is actually more terrifying than Wendig indicates. It’s not that hackers, terrorists, and enemy nations now have the vote, but that anyone perceived as representing the interests of such groups have the vote. Sony and the theaters which pulled The Interview didn’t need to know with 100% certainty that anyone would be attacked, nor that any 9/11-level events would occur; they only needed to believe that the threat was credible. This gives far more power than I think Sony or anyone realizes. Extremists of any stripe can dictate the terms upon which art is presented to the public based on perceived threats, rather than real ones, and corporations will listen. Those threats needn’t be credible beyond the scope of the corporation. The U.S. government, after all, doesn’t believe the threats are credible (and neither do a lot of Americans, apparently), and it’s unclear to me whether anyone actually consulted the U.S. government in any capacity (or any government, for that matter) about the matter (though they certainly did not Free speech isn’t an issue here (well, it is, but not in any legally binding way). We’re not talking about whether a company has a right to withdraw its own artistic products, whether businesses can refuse to carry something, or whether criticism of any kind should be ignored simply because art is art. This is about precedents. Sony and theaters have now set that precedent. North Korea, or any entity which has the means to present credible threats, can dictate terms and expect a response. So, congratulations, Sony and every theater which pulled The Interview. You’ve set the precedent. Now Paramount Pictures has recalled its 10-year-old comedy, Team America: World Police. A Steve Carell vehicle entitled Pyongyang will never see the light of day, too, since its studio decided to can it. And by doing so — by responding — North Korea has been granted power. They now know that when something they don’t like occurs somewhere else, they can issue a threat and be heard. A nation which most of the world views with contempt or pity now has the validation of the international community, or at least a portion of it. In the end, I agree with President Obama that Sony’s decision to cancel the release of The Interview was a mistake, even more so because Sony never consulted the U.S. government about the matter. This sets a terrible precedent, one which we all should find disturbing regardless of our political affiliations. That art can so easily be stifled by the threat of violence should give us pause. This is not the first time, and it won’t be the last. If this is the trend for the future, then we should all be deeply concerned. There’s hope, of course. Sony has retracted its cancellation, and the community of viewers seems to have roundly rejected the notion that Sony should have caved at all. Thus far, that’s had an impact on Sony, but we’ll see if the other studios and the theaters which pulled the film, cowards that they are, will do the same. At least Sony listened. Controversial Art To the second part: indeed, controversial art is not just essential, it is required in our cultural discourse if culture is to advance in any discernible way. Controversial art challenges existing cultural patterns, not necessarily to uproot them but to introduce advanced thought about our traditions, our everyday lives, and our cultural vices. In that respect, The Interview is a necessary feature of our artistic world, even if the film itself isn’t all that great (I haven’t seen it, so I cannot assess its merit). That fact became apparent the moment North Korea responded to it with threats. Any artistic work which is met with (threats of) violence is a work that deserves careful attention. Communities which resort to such threats are ones which have insulated themselves from criticism, and by doing so, they have stagnated, as North Korea has. The same thing has occurred in the science fiction community (albeit on a much smaller, perhaps less violent scale) and in gaming (regardless of what GamerGaters may think, there are people who identify with their group who have attacked women for criticizing gaming). Insularity breeds violence, literal or figurative, and to the insular community, artistic expression, particularly of the satirical mode, is perceived as a threat. For that reason, art must continue unabated. It must be shared. It must be free to satirize and mock. It must be free to be controversial. And that means it must have a place to be shared. Without controversial art, insularity
On #GamerGate — Final Thoughts Before I Find Something Else to Do
If you have no idea what GamerGate is, the Wiki page gives a decent enough summary of the major events. Additional details can be found at RationalWiki. This is the only post I will write on this subject. At this point, I’m basically “over it.” The whole thing is a monumental mess. There’s abuse on both sides, accusations flying everywhere, and, once more, a lot of hard divisions. If GG had a purpose beyond its 4Chan origins, I think it’s now over with, either because the well-meaning people within it could not control the narrative or because GG was always a hijacked movement whose membership, in part, was about attacking women (I lean more towards the latter). For example, here’s a rough statistical analysis of what GamerGaters have been talking about in the last month; hint: ethics in journalism is pretty low on the list. So this is all I’m saying on GamerGate. I will not Tweet about it again. I will not write more blog posts. If someone decides to create an organized body of folks who are against corruption in games journalism, I’ll support it, but I cannot in good conscience support GG. These are my final thoughts: I’m sympathetic to the underlying message of good GamerGaters, despite knowing very little about the ethical issues in games journalism. Given that I find a great deal of what passes for journalism these days to be wildly unethical (if not straight up dishonest and worthless), I recognize the seriousness which such a topic can have within the field of gaming. However, I’m not a GG supporter for one simple reason: it has always been hijacked by scum. Scum who will try to destroy you for speaking out, especially if you’re a woman. We can sit around reporting accounts all we want, but the sad fact is that women who speak out against GG are being attacked, and since GG has no mechanism for purging this from its ranks — except to play a distracting game of self-defense, which doesn’t actually work — there’s no reason for me to associate myself with it.. As I’ve noted to some GamerGaters that I know, it’s difficult to argue that the “trolls” who have turned/kept the face of GG as that of a terrorist organization are not actually part of that group. Others have called this a No True Scotsman fallacy, which I think is somewhat unfair. GG is not an organized body. It has no defined membership with which to properly identify itself. What it has are factions of people saying “this is what GG is or is not” in defense of what are obviously objectionable behaviors by those who are associating themselves with the tag. Eventually, one has to admit that the tag has been tainted, and that trying to save it from its non-organized nature is pointless. How exactly can you claim that the people issuing rape and death threats are not part of GG when there’s no clear method for determining who is and isn’t part of GG, especially since some of the people who are issuing threats and abuse are also part of the original message of “ethics in journalism”?. The previous point becomes complicated by the fact that the public face of GG is hardly that of the less public face. There are people within GG who do stand against harassment and want to combat unethical behavior in games journalism. But these same people will often RT or support people like Adam Baldwin (an anti-LGBT loon), Christina Sommers (who stands against Title IX for women in science, and certainly stands against the same for women in gaming/tech, despite the fact that clearly those industries need changing), Breitbart (an ironically unethical “journalistic” space), and so on. Top that off with the fact that there’s no clear way to remove or denounce people like Vox Day (an unabashed misogynist who now supports the movement and wants his followers to do the same) and you end up with a situation in which even the supposed “good face” looks like it’s covered in pie. These are not the droids you’re looking for… It’s one thing to mistakenly tweet something from a controversial source. Perhaps you didn’t know. Perhaps you misunderstood. It happens. But at some point, you have to face reality. These aren’t the faces you want in your movement, particularly if you actually care about the issues you espouse. It’s for the same reason that I don’t think anyone should associate themselves with any anti-GGer who says we should stomp gamers back to irrelevancy (yes, this has been said). If you RT these people, you damage yourself (this is actually the product of an association fallacy, but good luck trying to convince the world of that fact).. It occurs to me that very little discussion has been had about those within GG who have been abused or threatened as a result of being part of that movement. Some of the claims are specious (Mike Cernovich claims to have been doxxed, but that’s patently false, as his business address was publicly available on a legal website (link does not contain the address; just a detractor’s take on Cernovich)), but others are far more serious. The problem, as I see it, is that it’s difficult to determine whether the people attacking on behalf of the anti-GG side are actually “real” in the sense of believing themselves to be part of that movement or just trolling everyone. There is a high likelihood that the same people who have hijacked/created GG are also dispensing attacks in the opposite direction, which seems possible based on the number of fake Twitter accounts, etc. that have been used to discredit GG detractors. Regardless, some of these attacks must be real, if by “attacks” we mean actual threats, not people calling GGers stupid (which is weak tea as far as I’m concerned). The Internet contains a climate of abuse. Raging, childish abuse. The adult world doesn’t make much room for straight
On Language and Reinforcing Bigotry
[Note: statistics will vary considerably depending where you are in the world. I’m using statistics and studies which are mostly relevant to the United States, and so this post will focus accordingly. This is my comfort zone, but I encourage others to take a look at these same concerns as they relate to their cultural contexts.] Language is our responsibility. How we use it determines everything from our ability to communicate with one another to how we talk about other people to how we describe the world we all share. Language is also one of the most effective ways by which we can share, distribute, and reinforce cultural values. Among the most pervasive values is bigotry in its many forms. If it were not already obvious, language and bigotry go hand in hand. What we call other people, how we refer to them in the media or “polite” conversation, and how we deal with the narratives presented to us by others not only defines the character of our bigotries and the language we use to talk about and reinforce those bigotries in the future (or the opposite, as the case may be). Language can do good, too, but when we are careless with it, it can do an almost immeasurable amount of damage to our cultural and individual identities, to our bodies, and so on. One of the most obvious examples of this involves the rhetoric surrounding Muslims in the United States and abroad. I can’t speak to the European context, but as an American, I know all too well how easy it is to fall into the trap of using language which, perhaps unintentionally, denigrates an entire people. Given that the majority of us get our information about Muslims from what we read, it is unsurprising that the majority of Americans have unfavorable views of Muslims or that a sizable portion of the population agrees with profiling Muslims/Arabs. There are numerous studies which confirm this view. For example, Christopher Bail’s upcoming book, Terrified: How Anti-Muslim Fringe Organizations Became Mainstream (2014; Princeton University Press), argues that representations of Muslims after 9/11 have tended to privilege narratives of fear by treating fringe (read: “radical, violent Islam”) Muslim groups with the same value as non-fringe (read: “everyday Muslims”) Muslim groups. In essence, this practice “created a gravitational pull or ‘fringe effect’ that realigned inter-organizational networks and altered the contours of mainstream discourse itself.” Additionally, Evelyn Alsultany suggests in “Arabs and Muslims in the Media after 9/11: Representations Strategies for a ‘Postrace’ Era” (2013; American Quarterly, Vol 65, No 1) that narrative television and news networks have engaged in a mode of discourse in which [positive] representations of Arabs and Muslims have helped form a new kind of racism, one that projects antiracism and multiculturalism on the surface but simultaneously produces the logics and affects necessary to legitimize racist policies and practices. It is no longer the case that the other is explicitly demonized to justify war or injustice. Now the other is portrayed sympathetically in order to project the United States as an enlightened country that has entered a postrace era. (5) These studies are not contradictory. Rather, they suggest that the complicated portrayal of Muslims in the media (broadly speaking) has created a discourse surrounding Muslims that either confirms a fear-based narrative about “radical Islam” or a form of Orientalism which places U.S. culture in opposition to a “savage Islamic state.” Thus, what we have are two mainstream portrayals: one which conforms to U.S. cultural desires and the other which conforms to U.S. cultural fears. This fear narrative has been recently bolstered by the graphic and gruesome violence of ISIS, which has, in one account, provided fuel for the anti-Islamic fire which holds “Islam” as a threat (distinctions generally absent). I can’t say for certain if these images are deliberately curated to produce this effect, though it is unlikely that it is all accidental or subconscious. Regardless, I hope it illustrates the point I’m trying to make here: namely, that language (and, by extension, the images attached to it) has such a profound affect on our culture that to ignore it, especially when it produces an ill effect, reinforces a bigoted position. Ignorance and “doing nothing,” in other words, makes us unintentionally complicit in these discourses. The same could be said of the term “feminism.” Polls suggest that most Americans do not identify as feminists, with some variation between the genders. But when given a textbook definition of feminism (that it stands for the political, social, and economic equality of the sexes), as respondents were provided in this YouGov poll, the results swing drastically in the other direction. Sadly, those numbers are still disgustingly low when you consider the clear moral question implied in that textbook definition, but the poll also suggests that Americans are horribly ill-informed about feminism at its most basic. A lot of study has been done to determine why “feminism” has become less appreciated (and even actively disliked) in our contemporary culture. In “The Framing of Feminists and Feminism in News and Public Affairs Programs in U.S. Electronic Media” (2002; Journal of Communication, Vol 52, Issue 1), Rebecca Ann Lind and Colleen Salo conclude from an analysis of 35,000 hours of network broadcasts that “feminists are demonized more often in the media than [women],” but also that feminists are less likely than women to be trivialized by for physical characteristics than general women (219)(this came as a surprise to Lind and Salo). What becomes apparent in the study is not that feminists are necessarily treated worse than everyday women, but rather that they are discussed far less frequently than their non-identitarian counterparts (or, rather, those who are not identified as feminists in a given broadcast). As they note in the conclusion, feminists “are indeed absent from the news and public affairs programs analyzed for this study” (224). In effect, demonization and absence become cultural mechanisms in a narrative which, as Lind and Salo demonstrate in their linguistic
On Robin Williams
You have probably already heard about the death of Robin Williams by (apparent) suicide. Given the public nature of celebrity deaths, I have a feeling a lot of people are somewhat desensitized to the whole thing. I, however, feel inclined to say a few words about Robin Williams. I was born in 1983. Basically, I was a 90s kid. I grew up on 90s cartoons. I grew up on 90s movies.[1] Among my fondest memories are those films which featured Robin Williams. Hook (1991), FernGully (1992), Aladdin (1992), Mrs. Doubtfire (1993), Jumanji (1995), Jack (1996), and Flubber (1997). My siblings and I watched a number of these films many times over. They brought us joy. Robin Williams had a way of making us laugh — his greatest gift. In a small way, Williams helped make our lives better. Those that know me are probably aware that my childhood was pretty crap. I wrote about some of that here. Movies and video games were some of the methods through which I survived that growing-up experience. Robin Williams was a part of that. And so, for me, his death had a personal feel to it. The man who made us laugh. Who brought joy and wonder. He’s gone. Forever. I’ll never forget the laughs. It’s just sad that we won’t have any new laughfests from Robin Williams. We’ll only have the memories.
On LonCon and Thanks
I’m currently in Bristol after a long, exciting weekend at LonCon, resting up, seeing some touristy stuff, and generally dropping the weight from my shoulders. Overall, this trip abroad has been beautiful. I’ll talk about some of that here (warning: this will be more rambly and random than usual). LonCon! I still have a few days to look forward to in the big magic city, but my experience at the convention was overwhelmingly positive. First, the LonCon staff put together a fantastic convention. Though I could not attend every item I wanted to for all sorts of reasons, there were so many incredible panels this year, including a whole sub-track on World SF. Clearly, the con runners heard all of the complaints and concerns about San Antonio (and previous cons) and took it to heart. The international presence was phenomenal, in part served by the location (LONDON!) and by the smart programming staff who wanted to highlight the contributions of non-US/non-UK authors and fans. I also have to say an enormous THANK YOU to the con staff for helping me deal with technology issues. For those that don’t know, my portable recorder mysteriously stopped working at the start of the con. It turns out that my device and my microSD card weren’t communicating properly, which led me to the second problem: I had already recorded a bunch of things with the device, all of which I did not want to lose. The con staff helped me get the files off of the recorder and onto a flash drive. For that, I am immensely grateful. You saved me from an otherwise terrible situation. Overall, the con was amazing. I’m so glad I got to go, and equally happy about participating in programming. Most of all, I’m glad I got to meet so many people I otherwise might never have met. Hopefully, I’ll get to travel abroad for a future con! The Hugos Ceremony Thank the heavens that it was short. They really crushed it down to the basics so we wouldn’t be stuck in those bloody chairs for all time. It’s not that I don’t like sitting down for events, but previous ceremonies have been astronomically long (in the same way as the Oscars, which I tend to mostly ignore, except when the actual winners are announced). Personally, I’d rather get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible so I can get to other things. In this case, other things involved parties…Hugo Losers Parties. On Losing a Hugo Here’s something that I think should be said about losing this award: it’s a first. It was my first time being nominated. It was my first time losing. Maybe I’ll have my first win one day. Regardless, there are so many firsts to appreciate. How many people get to say “I’ve been nominated for a Hugo” or “I lost a Hugo”? Not that many. So, I lost. Oh noes. And while it kind of hurt at first — especially when I looked at the numbers — it really did become less a “oh noes” situation than a “holy crap, I got nominated and I’m in a room full of amazing people who also got nominated and lost and all this losing crap doesn’t really matter all that much because George R. R. Martin is over there and he lost, too, and he’s amazing, and then there are the Book Smugglers over there, who lost, and Justin Landon, who lost, and a bunch of amazing authors who lost” situation. And I tacked on the “holy crap, two of my favorite authors this year, John Chu and Ann Leckie, won awards this year, and they’re amazing and deserving and I shouldn’t mope cause I didn’t win because I wanted these two to win so bad, and they did, and OMG I’m filling up with amazing happy feelings.” That’s kind of the evolution of the Hugo loser, I guess. In any case, The Skiffy and Fanty Show will continue to do what it does to the best of our ability. We’re dedicated to spreading the love for World SF this year, and to our focus on women in 2015. A Moment for Thanks This is going to be long, and it will involve a whole lot of people. First, I want to thank all the listeners of The Skiffy and Fanty Show for supporting the podcast all these years, for nominating us, and voting for us. It really is an honor to be on the ballot, and the fact that the community of voters thought we were worthy of being on the list means a lot. Second, I want to thank my family for their support throughout the years, not just for the podcast, but for my studies. When times have been tough, they’ve been there for me, giving me money for rent, helping me fly home to spend time with family, and generally being supportive. If I ever need something, I know I can go to my family for help. I should also thank Julie and Scott Crawford, Erik and Hilary Vos, and Janel and Johannes (my aunt and uncle) for donating to my fundraiser; Kevin (my uncle) for basically buying my flight to England; my mom and my grandmother for their endless support; and everyone else, friends and so on, who have supported me all of these years doing whatever it is I do. Thank you. Third, I need to thank my various cohosts on the show: To Adam Callaway: thank you for starting The Skiffy and Fanty Show with me all those years ago. To Jen Zink: thank you for filling in for Adam and helping me make the show what it is today; without you, the show would have died before it could find its wings. Additionally, I have to thank you from the deepest part of my heart for being my best friend, through thick and thin, for your advice and support, and for just being you. Thank