Women We Love #3: Suzan-Lori Parks

Since Huma and I both went to Mount Holyoke, we have a special place in our heart reserved for students and alumnae of our alma mater as well as students and alumnae of other womens' colleges. The sisterhood exists, and it's powerful. Even if you didn't get to go to a womens' college, or if you are (or were) a guy, there is much wisdom, love, and humor in the commencement speech given by Suzan-Lori Parks to the graduating class of 2001, so I'm reposting it here. I really think that her advice is worth taking to heart and possibly even tacking it up somewhere you're likely to encounter it frequently. I used this as the inspiration for the "encouraging banner" I submitted to the fabulous interactive community art project Learning to Love You More, which you should check out if you haven't already. Here goes:

COMMENCEMENT SPEECH TO THE MOUNT HOLYOKE COLLEGE CLASS OF 2001
Held on May 27, 2001

Thank you, Graduating Class of 2001, Fellow Honorary Degree Recipients, Distinguished Administration and Faculty, Alumnae, Parents, Family and Friends, thank you all so much for inviting me to speak with you today. I graduated from Mount Holyoke in 1985. Here I am 16 years later. The learned faculty is seated there behind me, and so, before I get into the swing of things, I want to state that any grammatical errors, historical fabrications and inappropriate flights of fancy contained within the following speech are the sole responsibility of the Commencement Speaker and, if found objectionable, should in no way be viewed as an example of the caliber of education one would receive at Mount Holyoke College.

It is commencement and you all are commencing—you are beginning. Today is yr birthday. Its a sort of birthday for me too: this is my first honorary degree. Yr sitting there looking forward into me and Im standing here looking forward into you. I'll be yr mirror for a few minutes, if you'll be mine. All of us together, we are commencing. It is the beginning of things, its also the end of things and Ive brought along 16 SUGGESTIONS which may be of use—as you walk through the rest of yr lives.

Suggestions and Advice are funny things. In 1982 I took a creative writing class with James Baldwin. He suggested to me that I try playwrighting and I tried playwrighting and here I am today. That was some good advice. But it wasn't the best advice I ever got. The BEST advice I ever got was also the WORST advice any one ever gave me. In high school I had a very stern English teacher and one gloomy day she summoned me into her gloomy office. She knew I loved English and that I wanted to study literature and perhaps someday become a writer—"Don't study English," she said, "you haven't got the talent for it." What a horrible thing to say. What an excellent suggestion. It was an excellent suggestion because it forced me to think for myself. And that's my first suggestion for you.

SUGGESTION #1: CULTIVATE THE ABILITY TO THINK FOR YRSELF. When someone gives you advice, you lay their advice along side yr own thoughts and feelings, and if what they suggest jives with what you've got going on inside, then you follow their suggestion. ON THE OTHER HAND—there are lots of people out there who will suggest all kinds of stupid stuff for you to incorporate into your life. There are lots of people who will encourage you to stray from your hearts desire. Go ahead and let them speak their piece, and you may even want to give them a little smile depending on your mood, but if what they suggest does not jive with the thoughts and feelings that are already alive and growing beautifully inside you, then don't follow their suggestion. THINK for yrself, LISTEN to yr heart, TUNE IN to yr gut. These are just the things for which Mount Holyoke has educated you. You've all received an excellent education here and education, excellent education, is just a kind of ear training. That's all it really is—Inner Ear Training.

SUGGESTION #2: EMBRACE DISCIPLINE. Give yrself the opportunity to discover that discipline is just an extension of the love you have for yrself—discipline is not, as a lot of people think, some horrid exacting torturous self flagellating activity—Discipline is just an expression of Love—like the Disciples—they didn't follow Christ because they HAD TO.

SUGGESTION #3: PRACTICE PATIENCE. Whether you sit around like I do, working for that perfect word, or yr working toward a dream job, or wishing for a dreamy sweetheart. Things will come to you when yr ready to handle them—not before. Just keep walking yr road.

SUGGESTION #4; And as you walk yr road, as you live yr life, RELISH THE ROAD. And relish the fact that the road of yr life will probably be a windy road. Something like—the yellow brick road in the WIZARD OF OZ. You see the glory of OZ up ahead—but there are lots of twists and turns along the way—lots of tin men, lots of green women.

SUGGESTION #5: DEVELOP THE ART OF MAKING A SILK PURSE FROM A SOW'S EAR. Cause, you know, it aint whatcha got, it's how you work it.

SUGGESTION #6: For every 30 min of tv you watch, READ one poem outloud. For every work of literature you read, spend at least 30min in the mall, or in a mall equivalent such as Wal-Mart. This is cross-fertilization—a now-age form of crop rotation—a way to cross train yr spirit and keep interested in everything and not get too stuck in yr ways. Speaking of yr ways and yr way:

SUGGESTION #7: GET OUT OF YOUR WAY. You can spend yr life tripping on yrself, you can also spend yr life tripping yrself up. Get out of yr own way. Yr young, brilliant, and today is yr birthday. Yve got yr whole lives ahead of you and each of you will spend yr life doing some hing, or maybe a host of things. Don't just spend your life. SPLURGE

SUGGESTION #8: SPLURGE YR LIFE BY DOING SOMETHING YOU LOVE. My husband Paul is a musician. He says that the concept of talent is overrated because "talent" is really the gift of love. "Talent" happens when yr in love with something and you devote yr life to it and its yr love of it that makes you want to keep doing it, its yr love of it which helps you overcome the obstacles along the way, and its yr love of it that begets a talent for it.

SUGGESTIONS #9, 10, 11, 12, & 13: Eat Yr Vegetables, Floss Yr Teeth, Try Meditation, Get Some Exercise, & SHARPEN YR 7 SENSES: the basic 5 Senses + the 6th Sense: ESP & the 7th Sense which is yr sense of HUMOR. 16 years ago I sat where one of you is sitting now. The class of 1985 was graduating. And we were lucky as we had a great poet speaking to us. She was a great writer and an MHC alum. She was pretty and poised and she had such grace—so much grace that I sat there looking at her thinking that she looked more as if she had gone to Smith. Anyway it was sunny and we were all in black probably sweating a little and she spoke brilliantly and eloquently and to this day I have absolutely no memory of what she said. I don't remember one word of her brilliant commencement address - the address that launched the class of 1985. Not one word. I want you to catch my drift. I'm not saying our speaker was boring. I'm saying that I don't remember what she said. But I do remember some words that went through my head at the very moment our speakers words were passing by. It was a voice, coming from my gut, a voice coming from my heart and the voice said: "Ah, Suzan-Lori Parks, the next degree youre going to receive is an honorary degree from MHC." Yep I really said that to myself. And here I am today.

SUGGESTION #14: SAY "THANK YOU" at least once a week.

SUGGESTION #15: LOVE YRSELF. Why not.
16 years from now who will remember these words? Maybe no one. But maybe someone will. Maybe, from back in 1985, there is a classmate of mine who, to this day, remembers every word of our commencement address and this classmate repeats those words and they lighthouse her stormy days, maybe. Or if not a classmate remembering then maybe an alum if not an alum maybe a family member, maybe a parent, up there, gathered in the background having given so much, helping you get to this special day. Whether my words today will be remembered is not the issue because, you see, what Im saying to you right now isnt as important as what you are saying, right now, to yrselves.

SUGGESTION #16: BE BOLD. ENVISION YRSELF LIVING A LIFE THAT YOU LOVE. Believe, even if you can only muster yr faith for just this moment, believe that the sort of life you wish to live is, at this very moment, just waiting for you to summon it up. And when you wish for it, you begin moving toward it, and it, in turn, begins moving toward you.
As the great writer James Baldwin said: "Yr crown has been bought and paid for. All you have to do is put it on yr head."

THANK YOU

The Power of the Red Pumps

Every woman should own a pair of red pumps! I was recently introduced to these magical creatures a few weeks ago when I went on a mini shopping spree for the first time in two years. It was completely impulsive and I probably wasted $100, but it was worth every penny. When I spotted them, it was like love at first sight. I tried them on and got a reaction like no other. Two older women yelled at me, “Those look fabulous! You have to get them.” The salesmen chimed in and told me how beautiful they looked. I didn’t know if the compliments were meant for me or the shoes, but I didn’t care. I felt sexy, beautiful, and confident. At that moment, my legs became my favorite show piece. I’ve always had hangups about my legs because I thought they were too big. They are big, but that is what makes them attractive. So why did it take 28 years and a pair of red heels for me to realize this?

Red has always been a powerful color in my life. It represents heat, passion and energy. As a child, I was drawn to fire and once burned my finger because I couldn’t contain my curiosity. This experience made me fearful of the color red. Once I realized the power and danger associated with red, I tried to stay away from it, but somehow I couldn’t. The color was there when I had my first bad accident and scraped my knee to the bone from a fall on the concrete. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t stop looking at the deep, rich color of my blood. I was thankful to oxygen for giving it such a vibrant color. I felt quite exposed and vulnerable at that moment, and loved it. When we bleed we are releasing a small part of our lifeline to the universe, sharing our inner beauty and soul with the world; something that’s rarely done. I realized that instead of running from the color…from the electricity…from the power…from myself, it was time to embrace it.

The turning point in my love-hate relationship with red came in college. The colors of the sorority that I pledged were Crimson and Crème. This time, when red was forced upon me, I embraced it! I made a commitment to the color and wore it proudly. In this new context, it represented the leadership, confidence, and greatness of the thousands of women who came before me. It was then that I knew that red always had been and always would be a part of me. I rediscovered this when I tried on that pair of red heels. Like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I was transported to a magical place; one of confidence, self-love, and freedom. I was reminded once again that I am beautiful.

A pair of red pumps from Nordstrom: $100
The confidence to rediscover yourself: Priceless

Confidence and happiness are contagious. Spend time with the people, places, and things that make you happiest. Find your own confidence catalyst. For me it was a pair of red pumps. What’s yours?

Tanisha Drummer is an MBA student at the Stanford Graduate School of Business.

Can we please start a revolution?

Why is it that more than half my female friends hate their bodies?
Perfectly muscular, uniquely fragile, or utterly stunning,
they all hate their bodies.
I am a culprit at times as well.

Can we please start a revolution?

Can we start loving ourselves, just the way we were created?
Can we look at ourselves in the mirror and see the strength
that has been given to us, as women?

We are mothers, daughters, sisters, lovers, friends, brokers,
bankers, teachers, firefighters, lawyers, thinkers, philosophers,
politicians, doctors, cooks....

We are beautiful and we need to love ourselves!

Including the love handles, including the stretch marks, including
the not-so-shiny hair, including the ultra-long legs, including the small
breasts,

Including all our imperfections.

And most importantly the imperfections that society and oversexed magazines
and all the noise around us have dumped on us.

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH, REALLY!

Can we please start a revolution?

Samjhauta Express (Reconciliation Express)

My best friend Nadia sent me this poem, written by a Pakistani friend of hers, Afreina Noor. A train from Pakistan to India was burnt by activists in rage against peace talks between India and Pakistan, which deeply impacted her.














sixty years ago
there came home a train
all burnt and black
with carriages filled
of corpses mutilated
they were angry then
that we had broken off
they said we were a part of them
and we always would be
why then should we have a separate nation
they couldn't understand
today we sent a train
we named it Samjhauta Express
it was going back home
we were trying to re-establish ties
which we broke off sixty years ago
and for every one of those years
they paid us back
by burning alive sixty of us
sixty people
who had nothing to do with politics
innocent lives
prisoned in a moving, burning furnace
what was their crime
why did they have to pay
and with every life
they broke a home
they shattered childrens lives
incomplete
emotionally maimed
who will pay the price
for parents lost
for broken homes and hearts
for lives torn apart
when all we wanted was to be friends again
was it so great a crime?
and what about your own people
in their memories
how they tried to save a train full of burning people
won't your childrens nights be haunted
for the rest of their lives?
we paid then
and we are paying now
but we will not pay tomorrow
our children will not pay the price of our freedom
we will break through these barriers
we will not let this last
we will still cross borders
and you can keep your fires
burning in your hearts!

Afreina Noor
Pakistan, February 19, 2007

The 'F' Word - An Ongoing Debate

I came across this article in the Valley Advocate last week and I find the question over the word 'feminist' fascinating, so let's discuss! Feel free to share your thoughts and comments...

Teaching and Learning the F Word

"I'm not a feminist."
In classes I teach, a female student invariably tosses this one into conversation, using the phrase to make sure that, despite what she is about to say, no one should think badly of her. And I have taught many different kinds of students, from a variety of backgrounds in a variety of settings. Still the same sentence:
"I am not a feminist."
The statement is always striking-- not only because students rarely come up with anything self-consciously radical in many classroom conversations, but also because the very fact of the student's presence, from her butt in the seat to her hand raised in the air, actually signifies feminism's ideal. In the moment of her declaration she is asserting her right to participation; she is making her voice heard. And that is important to feminism, no?
At the same time, she very likely has a point. True, she is making her voice heard, but she might also be concerned that her voice will be over-heard, in the sense that it will become overdetermined in its association with a discourse with which she is uncomfortable, or even concerned that her voice might be appropriated by that discourse. And I totally think she is right to feel that way. I know I do.
When discussing topics that reflect feminism's basic tenets, everyone generally is down with the program, as long as I don't give it a name. But if I call anything "feminism," almost all will turn away. And indeed, only very recently have I come to refer to things I do and say as specifically feminist, even though for years I have been teaching classes on women and power, come from a family of powerful, "I'll shoot your damn balls off if you cross me" women, and have generally held as gospel the notion that women are equal to (or better than most) men. But, to me, that wasn't feminism; that was just who I am. Sometimes I would call it womanism.
Backlash, or some bad PR for feminismBorn after ERA, the vision of "feminism" I grew up included unshaven legs, really bad fashion sense, and an "irrational" and mean-spirited hatred of men. I believed this even as, on the level of rights and the kinds of identities access to rights make possible, I had been afforded every opportunity feminism had made possible. And these opportunities were further enabled by a media apparatus that feminism had itself enabled, movies like 9 to 5, The Color Purple, and Thelma and Louise. My girlhood was heavily affected by such films, and even though I could today offer sophisticated critiques of each, I know that, in its moment, each film impacted my nascent womanself in positive ways. They contributed to a sense of self that I have absolutely been allowed to take for granted.
But, again: I have a sneaking suspicion that if you were to ask any of the film's protagonists if they are feminists, the answer would likely be "no." For in their cultural moments-- the late eighties into the late nineties-- feminism did not mean "sisterhood," or black, or any of the themes such films identify and celebrate. Now that I have a little bit more perspective on that era, however, I think that we can read this disjuncture between act (being a powerful woman) and its description (not feminism) as symptomatic of a wide-scale conspiracy to undercut the advancements made by women in the seventies.
Okay, maybe not. But I do see two things happening to feminism at once. The first involves feminism falling victim to a kind of backlash grounded in mainstream anxieties around the social transformations the seventies signified (we also see this in media representations of race in the same era). The second is a matter of feminism suffering from its failure to adequately recognize its own implication and participation in other kinds of social oppression, particularly vis-à-vis race and class. Feminism's inability to broaden its recognition of women's struggles forced the movement to close ranks around female difference as its signature difference. I don't blame the backlash on feminism, but this enclosure likely contributed to its reputation as a limited movement set against a limited term, men-- and not as a vital social movement with concerns against a broader term, patriarchy. In the popular imagination, feminism isn't against "oppression"; feminism is against men.
The problem of difference
A misrepresentation indeed, but feminism's problems-or rather my problem with it- isn't all about one big misunderstanding. That second thing, the failure to recognize diversity in female struggle, really hurts. Indeed, as I write this, I can't help but think about how a good portion of my identity as a woman of color has been constituted, ironically, against mainstream feminism-particularly after I came to feel that the black working class background that established my sense of difference from feminism was precisely the kind of identity mainstream/academic feminism imagined itself through. I found it tiresome and dispiriting. I became thoroughly displeased with what I saw as the production then appropriation of my alienation.
I remember sitting in a woman studies class as an undergrad, the only black student there, and it being announced that "everything Marisa says is very, very special" (wait: it is!). I remember taking another such class in graduate school, again the only black student. After gritting my teeth through a semester of smiling, white matriarchy, I received a B+, my only, and was told that they (it was team taught) were "disappointed" that, after a "stunning" presentation on race and bell hooks, I left "that line of inquiry" behind to do something "more unexpected but too classical" (a paper on gender and justice in The Oresteia). The kicker, of course, is that not only had I been judged for not performing as expected viz. race, but I had never done a presentation on bell hooks. That was my friend Mike, and he is white!
Needless to say, I declared myself done with feminism. Now, quite a few years later, I am back in the fold, but only because I have become comfortable with my reservations and my assertions thereof.
A final example: Upon being asked if she would identify herself as a feminist, Michelle Obama gave the following response:
"You know, I'm not that into labels," Obama said. "So probably, if you laid out a feminist agenda, I would probably agree with a large portion of it," she said. "I wouldn't identify as a feminist just like I probably wouldn't identify as a liberal or a progressive."
Like many of my female students, powerful and thinking hard about their futures, Michelle Obama here reduces feminism to a label. For much as many students probably aren't going to sit in class and (consciously) speak through what they imagine to be an exclusionary discourse, Obama's response is quick and diplomatic, acknowledging that she's down for women's rights, but also trying to dissociate from any perceived negative affiliation. Her response offers yet another way of thinking about why a class filled with women-- poster children for feminism and its achievements-- shun the term. "Feminism," it seems, has become tainted, resonating more as an -ism and less as a way of naming women's right to make choices for themselves, a right that has been hard won and is always at risk of slipping away.
There is danger in refusing to give woman-centered action a name. Michelle Obama is big and fancy, but in our daily lives such diplomacy puts us at risk for losing sight of our interests as women. After all, conceding important rights and concerns to those of others, in order to keep the peace? Now that's stereotype to look out for.
To end, I must admit that calling myself a feminist requires an uphill battle, a battle to nevertheless hold the trust of other women of color and also to set forth the terms through which I would like to be recognized by white feminism. I am still uncomfortable. But I have come to believe that this is a battle worth fighting, for the costs of not making connections across gender, race, and class are too high, and will likely be borne on the backs of the very women kept at a distance from the term's nascent power to force recognition, to make alliances. As I've said elsewhere, I might sometimes leave the term behind, but not the game.

Brain is the real source of 'girl power'

Susan Jane Gilman wrote this article for the Los Angeles Times when I was in college, and I still have the newspaper cutting hanging on my wall.

Do young women care more about their bodies than their brains? Time Magazine recently answered "yes". In a cover story titled "Is feminism dead"? Time reported that young women today equate power with glamour and beauty. Said one 18-year old: "Girl power means you wear hot pants and a bra with some sequins on it."

Yet the very same week, another piece of news made quieter headlines. According to the Census Bureau, for the first time in history, more women than men ages 25-29 are earning college and graduate degrees. This level of education, the study found, enables women to earn at least 40 percent more than their high school educated peers. It also improves women's income dramatically more than men's.

And so, as girls head back to school, it's important to remind them that their brains, not a bustier, are the real source of "girl power."

No woman's beauty has ever outlived her, with the possible exception of Marilyn Monroe - and that's largely because Andy Warhol turned her face into wallpaper. And Monroe's image serves mostly as a hallmark of tragedy - a reminder that looks ultimately do not win women love, happiness or respect.

The women who have truly changed the world have done so because of their conviction and intellect. Jane Austen, Harriet Tubman, Marie Curie, Helen Keller, Indira Gandhi, even Oprah Winfrey - none of them made an impact because they were cute girls in hot pants. Millions of lives have been saved because Clara Barton founded the Red Cross. Margaret Sanger, who pioneered birth control, has done more than Madonna to liberate women sexually. Rosa Parks never made the cover of People Magazine, buy her impact on history is certainly greater than Jenny McCarthy's. As far as I know, Sojourner Truth never wore a sequined bikini. Nor, for that matter, did Joan of Arc or Golda Meir. Mother Teresa was not exactly a "10" in the looks department. Ditto for Eleanor Roosevelt, arguably the most important woman of the 20th century.

And while Camille Paglia may argue that beauty and sexuality are the greatest sources of women's power, her own influence was gained through academia, not the Miss America pageant.
Obviously, it's important for girls to be healthy and to feel good in their own skin. And there's just no getting around the fact that looks are still the premium form of currency in much of junior high and high school. Girls everywhere understand that beauty has the power to excite boys and men. But face it - so does a box of doughnuts. I want my younger sister to aspire to more than being a flavor-of-the-month - or a Spice.

The women of tomorrow need a reality check: Ultimately their brains, and not their bodies, have the capacity to enlighten and influence the world well into the next century. Why should they obsess about the shape of their legs when they can shape history? Real girl power lies between their ears.