hey cripchick,

we met at the t-shirt transformation in Pembroke, NC. i’m feeling your post and your deft moderation. (this is where you click the link and read her post first)

re: do we own our bodies?

i certainly have been trying to own mine, or at least hold it for a little while. the problem however, is that there are almost constant thefts, disruptive interventions in my attempt to hold me–a mouthy, queer, poor, rural, black, woman, artist, with no health insurance, clothed, fed and educated with the “help” of state, federal and private aid– together. a reel of these episodes was rolling through my head while i was processing your post—my sometimes futile attempts to wrestle flesh
and bone
and hair
and womb
and cure
and word
and blood
and love
and sisterhood
and memory
back
from who/whatever might have it out on loan, or from whomever might employ debt or blame or paycheck or the law or public health strategy to scare me into believing i never even owned none of it in the first place.

that’s why i can’t help but be reminded of the connection between ownership and privilege. i find it interesting that the most enthusiastic supporters of a pseudo-radicalization/sublimation of selfhood, the most ready to bury the hatchet, are often the most experienced thieves, the ones who have practiced owning other beings so well for so long. i am angered at their attempts at exercising paternalistic control over the discourse of dismantling ownership for the greater good. They often appropriate the knowledges of people who reject selfish ownership and capital, romanticize, excise, and graft them out of context onto a discourse which still ultimately serves oppressive power. This tool is wielded this time against the people who once were owned, excluded and silenced and their attempts to reclaim what was taken are called selfish, vindictive, destructive, or hung-up. this is and absurdly painful violence.

a denial of accountability

i felt this most deeply when commenters expressed distress over their apparently limited options: “own yourself (as master owns/makes slave or as nation owns citizens) or be violated with no recourse, no protection.”

i think it is extremely poignant that the first thoughts went to bodily safety (as opposed to say, intellectual property) and begged the question, “how will i survive without even the residual privilege of a penal system which, while i suffer the threat of a freedom-less existence or death, might also punish people who would otherwise destroy me?” even more poignant is that the experiences of this small group show us that fear alone will not protect us from violence.  i feel these expressions speak no only to the limitations of the proposed non-ownership future but also to a fear-ridden past and present lacking justice and accountability.

what would the conversation look like if we it were controlled by the people out seeking their own self-recovery (womyn,disabled,poc,queer,3rd world)? what definitions have they lain down around ownership that do not invoke enslavement, exclusion, dis(ease), colonization, isolation, humiliation, and punishment? what useful alternatives are there to non-ownership without safety and/or to fearful ownership? is there an answer that makes love and justice more possible?

those are questions i add to the pot.

re bravery and anger: the appropriateness of women of color having conversations amongst themselves about their anger. (OR why cripchick is not alone)

anger as a response to injustice it is still a useful tool. it is not destructive. it is not counteractive. it is creative.

please, anyone interested check out lex’s brilliant collective reading project, currently discussing Audre Lorde’s “The Uses of Anger.”

love,
zach