Although we were asked to point out salient differences between the movie and the novel, I can’t help but be jarred by the similarities, considering the time gap between the production of the novel and movie respectively.

To clarify, I couldn’t help but notice that the story lines in both the novel and movie were arguably politically charged. That is, that each text dichotomizes the ‘east’ and ‘west’, suggesting some sort of cultural and civil superiority.

Both texts make continual references to the ‘far east’ as though it is some twisted, exoticized location that no ‘easterner’ ought to visit. Perhaps it is a stretch when I say that this rhetoric speaks to the ways in which the ‘Global North’ creates ‘otherness’ based on culture, national and international boundaries. As such, and although I cannot speak to the political climate at the time the movie and the novel were created, I can only imagine that the storyline is underpinned in some sort of orientalization and dehumanization of different cultures.

Kate Doe, a young single girl, was enjoying a casual evening with her partner, as they often did. Kate notes that about an hour into the evening, her partner began speaking of marriage, something that is typical of couples their age. Kate, who stated that she “loved her partner dearly”, noted that she would “do anything for him to ask her to marry him”. Given this declaration, Kate’s partner asked her to retrieve his cane from the grave of a recently perished man, and as such, he would ask her to marry him.

Kate, a self-proclaimed “devoted partner”, happily went to the grave on account of her partner’s proposal. It was while she was at the grave site that something out of the ordinary happened

“I was just about the grab the cane and the ghost of a man appeared”, said Kate.

“He made me carry him on my back to the house of 3 sick boys. Once we were there, he told me to eat this strange blood-oatmeal concoction. Luckily I had my handkerchief handy and was able to spit it out and hide it in a hole in the wall.”

Kate then proceeded to tell reporters that the ghost informed her of the riches buried in the 3 boy’s lawn, as well as the life-giving properties that his blood-oatmeal concoction contained.

The next morning, Kate was informed that the 3 sick boys whom she visited were dead. Kate, remembering her handkerchief containing the life-giving remnants of the blood-oatmeal concoction went back to the 3 boy’s house to see if it would bring them back to life.

“I was amazed when the boys came back to life after feeding them the oatmeal”! Exclaimed Kate.

As a reward, the boy’s father offered Kate access to the riches buried on their property.

“The boys are alive and well, and I can finally have my dream wedding!” Kate told the media excitedly.

“I am glad everyone benefited from this strange occurrence.”

For this week’s assignment I would like to compare the ‘spaces’ and themes in Clements’ “The Unnatural and Accidental Women” and Tailfeathers’ “A Red Girls Reasoning”. Although I was not able to find the Tailfeathers’ video in its entirety, I was able to watch the trailer and do a bit of reading on the film, so I do apologize if I leave out bits and pieces.

A strong spatial (or geographical) similarity between the two texts is that they both take place (primarily) in cities. In the trailer for “A Red Girls reasoning” the main character brings up how absurd the story of Pocahontas is. This got me thinking about the Colonial lens, and how Colonial thoughts and/or images of Indigenous communities are relegated to the past, highly romanticised, and reduced to a simple pre-occupation or connection with the environment. This romanticised reduction, however, completely ignores the everyday experience of Indigenous communities, as many Indigenous Individuals increasingly re-locate to urban centres.

Similarly, Clements’ “The Unnatural and Accidental Women” also takes place in a city. Clements unveils the harsh reality of life in an urban centre, where many Indigenous women have gone missing as the law turns a blind eye.

Each author’s illumination of Indigenous city life reveal the dangers of re-inscribing the ‘Pocahontas-like’ Indigenous stereo-types mentioned above. In so far as it could be these very stereo-types that perpetuate violence against Indigenous women in urban centres, while the privileged class, clinging to false ideas of indigeneity, remain unaware of, and insensitive to, such violence.

Marie Clement’s “The Unnatural and Accidental Women”

Although the inevitably fragmented nature of a theatrical script makes it difficult for the reader to encapsulate, synthesize or make sense of specific events, Clements’ continual references to nature help to incorporate various forgotten tribal histories in to her present-day narrative.

I argue that these histories appear as ‘forgotten histories’ on account of how they appear in the play. In many cases, when references to the tides, trees or traplines appear in her play, they are often surrounded by the static of a faulty telephone connection, or the ebbing and flowing of entirely different scenes. In doing this, I feel as though Clements is cleverly making reference to Canada’s tendency to wash over a robust history of environmental plunder and racism.

In creating a play that illuminates the lives of many missing and murdered Indigenous women, while illuminating fragments of a forgotten environmental history, Clements enriches my understanding of the missing and murdered Indigenous women phenomena. As a matter of fact, the way Clements subtly draws the fragmented and ‘forgotten’ connections between the women and the environment, asserts that the missing and murdered Indigenous women are in realty far from a phenomena, but rather a manifestation of a history of colonial racism and plunder, and a culture of forgetting, in present day.

What I found most intriguing about Goto’s The Kappa Child, were the ways in which it challenged and re-worked historical Canadian (settler) narratives. It is not far off to say that Little House on the Prairie manifested itself into the thought-process of many Canadians (although it is an American novel, nonetheless), as an image reminiscent of the highly romanticised “good old days”. As the unnamed protagonist in the story continually references scenes from her favorite book, however, she is constantly reminded of how different her families’ seemingly ‘similar’ existence is compared to that of the Ingalls. As a matter of fact, the protagonist’s life is far from ‘good’ as she looks back on her abusive childhood, in a landscape that rarely provided. Canadian narratives provided through such stories as Little House on the Prairie often ignore Canada’s robust history of colonialism and racism. Endearingly, Goto provides a more realistic account of what it is to be an immigrant in Canada, tilling the land, and living the ‘Canadian dream’. This idea becomes exemplified, even more so, when the protagonist wakes up watching the credits for Little House on the Prairie; As Laura Ingalls looks up, grows withered and angry, stressing that the story was re-done, Goto creates a raw image of a fake Canada, one that made me (the reader) realize my complacency in maintaining an unrealistic account of Canada that does not recognize the experience of immigrants and First Nations as integral components of its’ history.

According to Latimer, Juno is arguably the real-life embodiment of Atwood’s satire The Handmaid’s tale. Latimer notes that at the time Atwood wrote The Handmaid’s Tale, political conversations regarding women’s rights and the topic of abortion were re-surfacing, creating new and diverse discourses. She points out that at this time, pro-life rhetoric was becoming so pervasive that it oddly began to re-shape pro-choice rhetoric, in that all sides began to frame abortion as a traumatic decision, but a decision (or choice) nonetheless, rather than a liberating decision (or choice).

In Atwood’s satire, the handmaids are subjected to gendered servitude, and act only as fertile vessels for reproduction (mostly reproduction of the state). The handmaids are made to believe that they have freedom from the abominations of the time before (abortion, pornography etc.), when in reality, most handmaids are longing for their old lives.

Latimer notes that this seemingly absurd portrayal of freedom and choice in The Handmaid’s tale is arguably becoming normalized via endearing, charming and popular movies such as Juno. To exemplify this, Latimer notes that although Juno dabbles with the choice of abortion, she ultimately makes the ‘right’ choice by having the child. Juno is therefore reflecting an ‘abortion as traumatic’ rather than liberating discourse. Moreover, the fact that Juno’s decision is considered a choice at all is in need of close analysis. Is it truly a choice if societal pressures coerce you into making the ‘right’ choice?

Critical Reflection:

I don’t think I have ever analyzed freedom and choice as closely as I have after this week’s readings. In Canada, women are made to believe that freedom to choose exists. However, the media is constantly adopting specific politics, politics that profoundly value some ‘choices’ over others. How can this be considered choice? I truly think of it as coercion, where choosing abortion is framed as traumatic (despite scientific evidence that suggests otherwise) whether you are ‘pro-life’ or ‘pro-choice’.

If I can make one critique about the movie Juno, I would have to say that it offers a somewhat distorted account of what single motherhood entails. While I appreciate that Juno’s character pushes the boundaries of traditional femininity, I am troubled by her calm, sarcastic, and, dare I say, masculine attitude when it comes to negotiating her pregnancy. I feel as though Junos disposition as a socially awkward yet endearing teen valorizes traditional aspects of masculinity, while simultaneously rejecting the arguably terrifying and stressful reality of teen pregnancy. Moreover, Juno was offered an abundance of support throughout her pregnancy, and this, I feel, completely ignores the many barriers women dealing with unwanted pregnancies must face when attempting to secure support.

Despite my own critical analysis of the film, many feminist scholars have also made strong arguments about this films tendency to undermine women’s rights. Similar to my reading of the film, Hoerl explores the ways in which this film this film inadequately represents instances of teen pregnancy. Hoerl unpacks the word ‘choice’ and notes that for many teenagers dealing with an unwanted pregnancy, choice is often grounded in the opinions and pressures of others. Furthermore, Thoma suggests that by implicitly putting forward the idea that ‘choice’ exists, Juno depoliticizes the topic of abortion. To elaborate, it would be to say that if ‘choice’ existed, there would no longer be reason for debate on the topic of abortion, which is highly problematic.

Works Cited:

Thoma article:

http://www.tandfonline.com.ezproxy.library.ubc.ca/doi/full/10.1080/14680770903233001#.VCs5GuktDIU

Hoerl article:

http://www.tandfonline.com.ezproxy.library.ubc.ca/doi/full/10.1080/14791420.2010.523432#.VCsqBuktDIU

One of the most salient differences between BCAction and Susan G Komen are the ways in which they tackle solutions to the current breast cancer epidemic.

Susan G Komen’s tendency to offer individual solutions to a global issue bears a striking resemblance to rhetoric of the post-feminist era as articulated by McRobbie (Mc Robbie notes that post-feminist discourse adheres to neo-liberal values). With neo-liberalism came a marked shift in how the state addressed health care. Somewhere along the line, the state absolved its responsibility to ensure adequate health care for its citizens, and placed this burden on individuals. Komen seems to be exacerbating this phenomenon, which is not necessarily a good thing.

On the contrary, BCAction seemed adamant in addressing the systemic issues that correlate with breast cancer. Issues such as poverty, sexism, racism, consumerism, etc. In doing this, BCAction is putting pressure on the state to take responsibility for structural inequalities that are conducive to breast cancer. Moreover, they are asserting the idea that eradicating breast cancer is a collective and holistic activity. Collective as in it takes people from every rung of the social ladder to address and pose solutions to breast cancer (not just for individuals who suffer the disease), and holistic as in it strives to eradicate the underlying causes of breast cancer so as to eliminate the disease entirely (as opposed to ‘just dealing’ with the disease once diagnosed).

Endearingly enough, however, Komen (and BCAction) offer resources (financial and supportive) for persons with breast cancer on their website. While I strongly believe that addressing systemic issues is integral to combating most health epidemics, I would also argue that it is necessary to provide ‘grass roots’ aid to those suffering, albeit a ‘band-aid solution’, for the time being.

Apart from the date of Kushner’s text itself, I noticed a few particular nuances in her writing that elucidate the era in which Kushner’s chapter exists. That is, that Kushner is writing in the unsettled space between second wave feminism and post feminism, as indicated by the various rhetoric she uses.

To begin, Kushner stresses female bodily integrity when asserting the necessity of qualified physicians. The idea of female bodily integrity is highly attributed to second wave feminism with the advent of the book Our Bodies Ourselves. Under every heading and every sub heading, Kushner stresses the need for highly skilled and specialized breast cancer physicians. In doing so, she simultaneously puts a positive value on the female body, a value denoting that the female body deserves to be embraced, and treated with the best available technology.

Furthermore, and despite that Kushner was not a medical academic, she structured her life writing in a way that resembled the writing of an academic text book. I feel as though her choice of writing this way is perhaps a response to the contemporary medical literature of that time, insofar as it did not provide an in-depth analysis of women’s health specifically. Although it can be contested that she was conforming to a strictly ‘masculine’ way of writing and representation, I personally feel as though she cleverly used ‘objective’ and ‘factual’ writing as a tool to have these issue taken more seriously…Perhaps.

Now to move onto the part where I feel as though Kushner is lingering on the cusp of post feminism. Kushner’s assertion that steps need be taken to screen oneself for breast cancer at an early age echoes Lucas’s video (a video made well into the post feminist era), and the ways in which she (Lucas) overstates the need for early screening. Coupled with early screening, Both Kushner and Lucas also promote self-screening, and personal responsibility for health. Self-screening and discourses of personal responsibility for health, however, are arguably a pervasive rhetoric of neoliberalism, and, as McRobbie states, it is not uncommon for post feminism accommodate neoliberal and capitalist desires. This takes pressure off the state to be rigorous when addressing women’s issues, simultaneously assuming that there is no longer a need for a politicized women’s health movement.

One idea that comes to mind when reading this weeks texts is that Western medicine, hiding behind the guise of ‘objectivity’, has sabotaged a myriad of traditional and cultural approaches to health and medicine. It is arguable then that western medicine has oppressive tendencies, perpetuating a myriad of gender, race and class binaries.

Quite often, contemporary medical rhetoric hides behind the guise of objectivity. However, as Goldacre and James point out, modern medicine is often driven by profit, and results are often manipulated in an attempt to sustain a certain reputation. This, to me, is far from ‘objective’. Moreover, conceptions of objectivity and the advent of the scientific method in order to carry out quantitative research are developments that are deeply rooted in colonialism. Having taken GRSJ 100, the understanding of colonialism as an incredibly racist, sexist and classist institution is common place. So how can we claim that western medicine is beneficial to everyone?

Judging by this weeks blog posts, it isn’t. Many of us have had a less than favourable run-in with contemporary health care. And one can only imagine how this negative experience can become  profoundly exacerbated depending on  ones gender, race, or class.

In sum, it is understandable that not everyone reaps the benefits of westernized medicine. Westernized medicine, although it is not without it’s incredible feats, is ultimately a ‘whitened’ institution, that is not equally received or accessed across the globe. This makes me wonder if utilizing an umbrella term such as ‘global health’ to assess ones state of being will ever be practical. Each individuals experience with health differs, and perhaps it should be treated as such.