One of the most thrilling parts of learning about social justice issues is getting to put the theory of the classroom into action in real life. Such an opportunity arose for me with the 7N National March Against Male Chauvinistic Violence that occurred on November 7, 2015 in Madrid. Discriminative violence of all kinds seems to be all too common in our current world-- acts of terrorism, racial and gendered violence, these aren't new problems. In the past year alone, 54 women have been killed in Spain as a result of male chauvinistic violence (a term the Spanish Feminist Movement has adopted to refer to what we may call in the US "domestic violence" as it reflects the severity of intimate partner violence that is often normalized). As a way to bring attention to this problem, the Spanish Feminist Movement organized a nation-wide march, the first of its kind, to bring together allies from all parts of Spain.
Obviously, as a group of feminist studying gender studies in Spain, my GEMMA colleagues and I were very interested in participating in the march. The commute to Madrid is quite easy from Granada, being only a 5 hour bus ride away, but what was so incredible was that the local feminist organization, Asamblea Feminista Unitaria de Granada, coordinated an effort that provided free transportation for any University of Granada student who wanted to attend the march. So seven of us GEMMA girls got ourselves up and to the bus by 6 AM on the morning of November 7th, with our matching tshirts and home-made banner (translates to: "chauvinistic terrorism is a matter of the state"), ready to take the streets! The air was positively electric that day in Madrid. The capital's most busy streets were completely blocked off from traffic, staffed with police officers, and full of people chanting, carrying their own banners of protest. According to news sources, estimates are that over 200,000 people were in attendance that day. And what was incredible was that there really was representation for all types of people--men, women, young, old, Spanish, and foreign. All were allies together, marching against a type of violence that had touched almost all those who were present personally. It was during one of the group chants that the reality of this situation really struck home for me. Standing there, chanting, "if you touch one, you touch all of us", I realized that while the sentiment of the cheer was one of solidarity, the reality doesn't add up. There are so many women who are living with this reality of violence and some whose lives are stolen from them as a result of that violence. They are the ones being touched, not me. I cannot fathom the fear they must feel. This line of study that I have chosen to gone into is not easy; but it's not easy because it matters, because it deals with painful realities, because it makes you look at the world and think about what you can do, should do, and will do to make a difference. Unfortunately, since the 7th, there has already been four more femicides in Spain. This issue of gendered violence is obviously not unique to Spain and should be addressed as widely as possible. But there is a movement happening, right now, in Spain, on the national level, demanding change. And I feel honored and privileged to be able to stand up and be a part of that movement in this moment. For more detailed information about the ideas behind the 7N event, you can read my blog post on the European Young Feminists' blog site here. Or check out the March's official website here. As many of you know, I have a tendency to be very high strung; it's just my nature. And while I do tend to revel in the anxiety of my high strung moments, I also try to keep the big picture in mind. This mentality was what drove me to attend a local feminist program this weekend even though I had piles of articles to read and essays to write. After all, my work will get done (eventually) and it is important to participate in the real time experience of the movement. If I just get a degree in theory but don't put it to use, what was even the point?
The program took place over two days and brought together members of the entire Andalusian province to discuss feminist issues, including: care and dependency; sex, gender and sexualities; unemployment and work; education and co-education; citizenship and participation; and violence. For my first session, I decided to attend the seminar on sex, gender, and sexualities. The event was open to the public and I was pleasantly surprised to see a wide variety of people our group. There was about 30 of us participating with ages ranging from high school to (I'm guessing) 60s and basically an even mix of men and women. I was taking a moment to reflect on the situation and wondering if I had ever attended an event so well attended in the States or if it would even be possible when I realized that the older gentleman in the group was posing a question at ME! I did my best to hide my startled panic as I attempted to catch up with his train of thought (which isn't easy to do in your non-native language, by the way) before he finally got to the point: "And I would like to pose this question to my North American colleague -- how have religion shaped the expectations of gender roles in your country?" UHHHHHHH, EXCUSE ME? Let me take you through all the things that raced through my mind in the first 10 seconds that followed that question: 1. IS THAT A SERIOUS QUESTION? HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO ANSWER THAT? A. Couldn't this be a doctoral thesis? 2. This man just hijacked the session and made it about religion when that wasn't even the topic. Rude. 3. I have spent the last month immersing myself in Spanish culture and Europe history to learn about the context in which feminism developed in Europe... as if I can even remember anything from America! A. I am a horrible American. 4. But seriously, what is the answer.......? A. Do I talk about the historical context? Quakerism was incredibly influential in the abolitionist and suffragist movement..... But, shit, that's more about feminism which CHALLENGES traditional gender roles.... B. Do I talk about present times? How can I possibly generalize when there is SUCH a variety in religions practiced in America? i. Or maybe it is the lack of religious influence.....? ii. I am the worst anthropologist. I can't even analyze the religious cultural aspect of my native land. iii. And what, as if all other countries are completely homogenous? a. Wait, but I mean traditionally Spain was basically homogenous with Catholicism..... b. Maybe I just don't understand the gravity of the influence of Catholicism and that's why I don't get the question....? C. Or I could speak about my own experience.... i. Oh god what IS my own experience with religion forming my expectation of gender roles?? 5. I definitely don't feel comfortable exerting my opinion/experience. I feel like it's going to be taken as the representative opinion/experience of any group and I am not comfortable with that. A. I am the worst feminist. I don't even feel comfortable expressing my opinions. B. How am I ever going to be a professor?? 6. I have been studying gender for years now... I have been understanding how to deconstruct what we know.... I don't even know what the public "knows" now! A. Again, I am the worst feminist. B. Again, how do I ever expect to teach anyone? 7. YOU WANT ME TO ANSWER THIS IN SPANISH?? So, in the ten seconds it took for these thoughts to fly threw my mind, the entire room has turned around to stare at me while they anxiously await my answer. In the end, I ineloquently blurt out a combination of 4 and 6. But before I had even gotten to the part where I made a fool of myself, the man had turned around and was talked to his neighbor, another man. EXCUSE ME? YOU ARE GOING TO CALL ME OUT IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE GROUP AND THEN NOT EVEN LISTEN TO MY ANSWER? THAT IS SO INCREDIBLY RUDE! I could not even believe it. After my disastrous attempt to participate, the group moves on (seemingly unfazed) to other topics while I cannot shake the deep rooted sense of shame and disappointment I feel in myself at not being able to represent either myself or my country in a more educated and eloquent manner. I had felt this way once before in Spain, when I was studying abroad in 2012 and my host mom and her friends asked me all their questions about American culture, most of which I was unable to answer sufficiently. The question that stood out to me the most was a question about how our healthcare system worked: could a person be turned away from a hospital (and possibly even die) if they didn't have insurance. At that time, I was 20 and I didn't know anything about our healthcare system. I had always been covered under my parents' insurance-- I had always gotten the medical care that I required and I had selfishly never thought to question the system that was working for me. Since then, I have been beefing up my knowledge on the American medical system (even working on the periphery of the healthcare sector for a few months during my gap year). Go ahead, ask away! But I still remember how awful it felt to not have the answer. But this problem goes deeper than not knowing the answer (especially the question is nearly impossible to answer, as I think the question from the feminist event was): the problem is that I don't have enough confidence to voice my own opinion. Now I know what those of you who know me must be thinking -- "surely she is joking. I don't think I've ever met someone as vocal and determined as Nora!" And yes, I recognize the truth in that. It's true that I feel comfortable (possibly TOO comfortable) expressing my opinion about frivolous things (like what I want to eat or what I want to later that night), but how many of you actually know my opinion on contestable issues? Sure, maybe we've discussed them, but did I actually share my opinion with you or did I just politely listen to yours and ask questions? Have you ever successfully gotten me to explain something to you? I lack the vocabulary to describe the sensation accurately (it's not a fear or a phobia or anxiety or discomfort exactly) but there is a sense that I feel, especially in terms of feminist topics, that makes me more than apprehensive (basically incapable, really) of expressing my thoughts. I feel this overwhelming pressure that I am somehow representing an entire group of people and that a combination of my privilege and insufficiency overshadows any insight that I might be able to provide by sharing my own experiences. I am so afraid of doing it wrong. I am so afraid of misrepresenting, of misinforming. I am so afraid of coming across as dim or ignorant or uninformed. So I just keep quiet. I don't speak in class. I don't command presence in the room when I speak. And I wish I did. During coffee beak of the session, I confided my feelings in my two classmates who had attended the event with me. They empathized with the pressure I was feeling as a non-native speaker, commented that they had noticed that I don't speak up in class, and encouraged me to work through it. Now, this whole vignette might seem too personal, but I wrote it with the intention of accountability; I am asking you to help hold myself accountable. Ask me questions. Listen when I answer. Get engaged in this conversation with me and let's see where it can take us! |
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Meet the Author:Graduate student of GEMMA Eramus Mundus Master's Degree in Women's and Gender Studies. Currently living in Budapest, Hungary. Originally from the American midwest. Archives
October 2016
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