I really loved the readings and talk this week. My mum is an avid gardener – and has always said that the process of playing in the dirt and paying close attention to plants grounded her in her life and her stressful work as a nurse practitioner in the ER/ICU. I sent Penny Weiss’ article to her and we had a wonderful conversation about it (while walking among the budding cherry blossoms!) this weekend, particularly noting the helpful metaphors of oppressive systems being accurately seen as toxic to the health and growth of life around them and the precise nuancing of paying attention and providing specific care as needed, employing different strategies of care or uprooting to different challenges.
(a parallel note: I’ve watched my mum come back to herself and to hope by digging her hands in the dirt, growing vegetables with care, and tilling up persistent weeds, in similar ways to how the movement of hiking, running, or biking and the pounding of my heart in my chest brings me back to myself and to my own rootedness. I’ve reflected on this a lot this week: These, ultimately, aren’t just practices of care, they’re a necessary part of the work itself – an act of resistance and care, as much as it’s also a practice of joy and hope that fuels the hard and messy work of justice. And maybe it is itself even a blueprint of the kind of world we actually want: not separate from the land or from each other, but restored to both.)
Weiss, Haraway, and Stevenson speak of the need to get close. Close (or proximate) to those we are tempted to “other”, close enough to the issues we’re aiming to address that we can see their nuances and complications with clarity and appropriate context, and close to the land and our non-human relations who have much to teach us about growth and goodness. They invite us to truly pay attention: so that we can, as Haraway calls it, practice and cultivate cultivating response-ability. This response-ability is to systems and to people and to the most mundane “ordinariness” of our walking-around lives. Sometimes getting close sounds incredible and sometimes the invitation of proximity and mutuality is incredibly challenging, challenging my own default to ideological other-ing.
What stands out to me in these readings and my own work and activism is the need to see the work of feminist inquiry, scholarship, activism, protest, and world-making as a PRACTICE. A practice of joy and hope. Of curiosity. Of generosity towards difference. Of rest. Of play. Of dancing. Of tenacity. Of anger not stifled. Of grief not silenced. And of robust care of ourselves and of others. It’s a practice of living according to our reciprocity and mutuality, even when those are the things we want to push against.
But practice takes…practice. And so there’s a really powerful invitation here too to be willing to be uncomfortable, to try and fail, and to extend the same graciousness to another.
Questions:
Sara Ahmed threads the both/and of happiness and actual change-making when she quotes Audre Lorde: (1) “Was I really fighting the spread of radiation, racism, woman-slaughter, chemical invasion of our food, pollution of our environment, and the abuse and psychic destruction of our young, merely to avoid dealing with my first and greatest responsibility to be happy?” and (2) “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare” Can we hold to both true + robust activism and change and also tend dearly and profoundly to our own happiness? (to be both at rest and uncomfortable in pushing for better ways and better worlds, both.) If so, how?
What practices of hope and joy fill you up and sustain you in your feminist practice? How do you build care of self and care of others into your “ordinary and everyday” life?
I loved Sarah Ahmed’s words about survival as a form of protest, and “how we care for ourselves becomes an expression of feminist care”. It means finding a way to exist in a world that makes it difficult to exist. More personally (for my cynical brain), this means finding ways to have joy and hope when it can be easily lost in this world.
The readings this week were a form of care for me. Providing encouragement and conviction to move beyond learning and into action. I was really encouraged by the idea of social change and justice as a constant process of uprooting and planting, just like gardening. According to Penny, a garden is never really done – the same is true for political change. To even assume that patriarchy and colonialism are uprooted, fails to think about what comes after. Penny writes “What comes to occupy their spaces is note ceremoniously planted once and left to its own devices … but needs to be nurtured and reconfigured over time…”. Addressing systems of violence means we’ll potentially have to be frequently weeding. Addressing the comment someone made, explaining microaggressions, fighting for ceasefires, not laughing at the joke, the list can go on… We will always be weeding, but the act of weeding shouldn’t (and can’t) consume our entire selves. There’s balance in resting, laughing, living, understanding, and fighting.
If we reframed justice and social change as a garden, would that change our advocacy and how we care for ourselves?
This also means we cannot ‘weed’ alone. Brian Stevenson, Penny Weiss, and Sarah Ahmed, all reminded me of the need for community and connection to what you’re fighting – get close! This can also be done with hope, creativity, and care at the center. How can we create genuine networks of community in our feminism – in workplaces, families, and even with people who have differing beliefs? What are some ways you remain creative in your feminist practices?
This week’s readings made me think back to last week’s discussion/rant about only targeting and supporting individuals who are similar to you. However, this can have harmful implications. The tendency to only engage with and support individuals similar to oneself can perpetuate unhealthy patterns of exclusion and reinforce existing power dynamics. When we limit our interactions to those who share our backgrounds, identities, or perspectives, we inadvertently marginalize others who may not fit within those narrow parameters. This approach hampers our growth and understanding and hinders the collective progress toward more significant equity and justice.
Expanding our circles of connection and solidarity is vital for creating inclusive communities and effecting meaningful social change. Embracing diversity—whether it be in terms of race, gender, sexuality, ability, or other dimensions of identity—enriches our experiences and perspectives, enabling us to learn from one another and challenge our own assumptions. By actively seeking out and amplifying the voices and experiences of those different from us, we can begin to dismantle the barriers that uphold systems of oppression and create spaces where everyone feels valued and heard.
Furthermore, this commitment to diversity and inclusion extends beyond individual relationships to encompass broader structures and institutions. It requires us to critically examine how systems of power and privilege operate to advantage some groups while marginalizing others. By advocating for policies and practices that promote equity and accessibility, we can work towards creating more just and inclusive environments where everyone has the opportunity to thrive.
Ultimately, challenging the impulse to only engage with the familiar and stepping outside our comfort zones is necessary to cultivate empathy, solidarity, and collective resilience. It’s about recognizing the interconnectedness of our struggles and acknowledging that our liberation is bound up with the liberation of others. By embracing diversity and discomfort, we can move closer to building a more equitable and compassionate world for all.
Weiss, Haraway, and Stevenson advocate for the importance of closeness in various dimensions of our lives. They urge us to draw near to those we might typically distance or marginalize, engage intimately with the complexities of the issues we seek to address, and reconnect with the earth and its non-human inhabitants as sources of wisdom and insight. This call to proximity challenges us to understand and respond with sensitivity and accountability.
What resonates profoundly in this exploration is the notion of feminist work and activism as a continual practice—an ongoing journey characterized by joy, hope, curiosity, and a deep embrace of difference. It’s about balancing rest and action, playfulness and determination, expressing anger and acknowledging grief. This practice demands self-care and care for others, rooted in principles of reciprocity and mutual respect, even in moments of resistance.
However, engaging in this practice requires effort and perseverance. It involves a willingness to embrace discomfort, to experiment and learn from failure, and to extend grace to ourselves and others along the way. It’s an invitation to lean into the messiness of growth and transformation, knowing that through these challenges, we truly expand our capacity for empathy, understanding, and meaningful change.
My question for the class is: How can we actively challenge our tendencies to gravitate towards similar individuals and instead cultivate meaningful connections with those who bring diverse perspectives and experiences to the table? What specific steps can we take to expand our circles of solidarity and create more inclusive spaces for collaboration and collective action?
On Saturday, at a pro-Palestine demonstration at Stanley Park in Vancouver, someone burnt a copy of the Quran. My heart sank witnessing that. But it completely ripped apart when just a few hours later, I opened a Pakistani news website and read about reports of suspected arson at a church in a remote town in Pakistan after Good Friday. Two acts of hatred, worlds apart yet cut from the same cloth.
This week’s readings, as well as events, have reiterated one thing: that the true lesson lies in the unlearning just as much as the learning. Through the course of these past few months and the many authors we interacted with, I was exposed to the layers of inequalities, structural violence and intolerance that exists in different shapes and forms in almost every society. And all of that is so deeply rooted and so intertwined with each other that all of us are somehow trapped in a vicious cycle of that is tough to break and is often fueled by institutions that have strayed far from their original purpose. I can also see that those who suffer oppression can, in turn, oppress within their own circles too.
Societies are often structured in ways that deepen divides rather than bridge them. Our worlds may appear different in its problems and crises, yet at their core, these issues are remarkably similar. They stem from a historical context that has allowed power, prejudice and inequality to grow.
And maybe these are the roots that Weiss spoke about getting to. These supposed pillars, that preach tolerance and kindness, often misrepresented and weaponized. Religion being one of them, as it is used to shape national narratives and policies in ways that often harm those who are marginalized.
Religion is maybe an extremely sensitive example, that would probably land me in jail for blasphemy if I said this back in my home country. But it is one example of how the roots that were supposed to help us grow as a society have turned into the strangler figs that envelop the host tree. Maybe I am getting all my metaphors tangled up.
That being said, Weiss challenges the conventional perception of radical activism as solely focused on uprooting and eradicating problematic systems. Instead, she advocates for a more nuanced approach that includes nurturing new, positive systems and leveraging existing ones beneficially. This perspective resonates with the concept of intersectionality in feminist theory, acknowledging the interconnected nature of social categorizations and their ability to create overlapping systems of discrimination or disadvantage.
This idea that Weiss presents, holds significant promise for a country like Pakistan. With a literacy rate of just 59.3 percent, the potential for transformative change through education is substantial. Addressing the roots of intolerance by cultivating spaces that champion acceptance and open-mindedness can lead to a society that values creation and growth over destruction.
Weiss’s vision of a nuanced approach calls for an investment in education that teaches not just literacy but critical thinking, empathy, and the rich benefits of a diverse society. By reimagining and reinforcing educational structures to be more inclusive, Pakistan and many other societies alike can begin to dismantle the overlapping systems of discrimination that intersectionality highlights.
In this class, I have learned that understanding these complexities is just the beginning. The real challenge lies in translating this understanding into action — in stepping out of the comfort zones to challenge the status quo, in nurturing new ways of thinking and being, and in using language not as a weapon, but as a bridge towards understanding and empathy.
And this was the part about Stevenson’s talk that resonated with me. His insistence on proximity to effect change. We must step closer to the issues, feel their impact, and understand their complexities. This approach is not about comfort; it’s about confronting harsh realities. I have noticed people in my other classes get awkwardly quiet when I or my other international friends speak about their lived experiences in countries unfamiliar to their Western lens. “Wow, that got dark real quick,” I have heard one of them say in response, before springing on to another happier topic. I have been told by several of my j-school colleagues, professors and guest speakers that they prefer to do journalism that focuses on more positive news. But if everyone here wants to report on food, culture, celebrity gossip, bridge clubs in Vancouver, then who will become the voice for the marginalized? Who will face the darker, harsher realities of life?
These are not easy tasks. They require persistence, courage, and, most importantly, hope. But if we are to break the cycle, we have no other choice. This is the lesson that I will be carrying forward with me as I continue to find my way through this world fraught with challenges but also full of possibilities for change.
Questions:
– Weiss suggests a more nuanced approach to activism that involves nurturing new systems. What are some practical steps that can be taken to nurture such systems within deep-rooted societal structures?
– What are the impacts of radical change tactics that focus on destruction versus those that focus on creation. Is there a place for both in effective activism?
This week’s readings were so powerful and very much needed! They reminded us of the role of empathy to other and ourselves and speaking up against injustice, while also instilling a sense of hope for a more just and equitable future.
Brian’s talk resonated deeply with me. His emphasis on the importance of proximity, of getting to know and truly seeing those who suffer from injustice, struck a chord with me. It’s through this proximity that real change can occur, as we bear witness to the struggles of marginalized communities and refuse to turn a blind eye. The shared responsibility for addressing injustice, particularly in the face of societal narratives that dehumanize certain groups, is a poignant reminder of the urgency of our collective action. Stevenson’s words compel us to challenge the “us versus them” mentality and cultivate empathy for all people, regardless of our differences and to never tolerate injustice.
His discussion around “being hopeful” is interconnected to Penny’s comparison of social change and justice to gardening. Penny articulated very well how like a garden, political change is an ongoing process of uprooting and planting. It serves as a reminder that change is gradual, and it requires hope, courage, and patience. We must remain steadfast in our efforts, knowing that transformation takes time. This metaphor encourages us to persevere and stay committed to the journey of social change, trusting that our personal and collective actions will bear fruit in due time. Personally, as someone wo is engaged in community activism and peacebuilding, I often grapple with feelings of hopelessness in the face of entrenched injustices, because I want to see change- Immediate change! However, Brian’s reminder that “injustice prevails where hopelessness persists” serves as a beacon of hope, urging me/us to remain committed in our belief that change is possible. Staying patient and hopeful while waiting for change is crucial!
Sarah Ahmed motivated us to embark on our own journeys of feminist, self-discovery, and collective resistance. She also reminded us that true liberation requires a solid commitment to challenging injustice and building inclusive, equitable futures. She underscores the transformative potential of theory when it resonates with the experiences of everyday life.
Ahmed’s key message is the call to resist becoming complicit in systems of oppression, echoing Audre Lorde’s imperative to dismantle the master’s house without replicating its grammar. Through her own practices, such as prioritizing citations of feminists of color, Ahmed demonstrates the power of challenging dominant narratives and constructing alternative discourses, and encouraged is to do so in collective solidarity.
Toni Morrison’s insight resonates deeply in today’s world, where conflicts and wars sow division by forcing us to choose sides. She reminded is about the power of language in shaping perception and the dangers of oppressive discourse. She urges for narratives that embrace complexity, acknowledging the struggles and experiences of marginalized voices. Through her story, she invites us to reflect on the role of storytelling in understanding our shared humanity and the importance of fostering empathy and understanding in a divided world.
Discussion questions:
1) How does Brian Stevenson’s emphasis on proximity and bearing witness to the struggles of marginalized communities inform our understanding of effective social change strategies in public policy? How can we practice this with the people who are far from us? e.g.: people in Gaza?
2) In what ways does Penny’s analogy of social change and justice to gardening metaphor guide our approach to policymaking?
This week’s readings and videos resonated with me greatly, especially Sara Ahmed’s, but Brian Stevenson really shook me. This is not because he didn’t say anything that I was unaware of but because when I read about harms and the pain felt by people that is out of my control I distance myself from their personal stories reading about incidents from a distance. Stevenson stresses on proximity, the very thing I carefully deny myself to get through times like this, but it’s so powerful, proximity, and much needed. One of the most striking aspects of his message is the emphasis on proximity—the idea that meaningful change requires getting close to the problems, understanding them intimately, and empathizing with those affected. I, wholeheartedly agree and try to abide by this.
Separately, I am conflicted at times by my tendency to avoid personal stories when confronting devastating events in human history, like the Holocaust, conflicts in Gaza, or cases of sexual abuse, stemming from my natural inclination to shield myself from discomfort and fear. However, avoiding personal stories perpetuates cycles of silence and erasure, ultimately enabling the systems of oppression and injustice that allowed these atrocities to occur. Confronting uncomfortable truths requires courage, empathy, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. I have tried to do so, such as in this class when I watched For Samaa with all its uncensored raw content. Reflecting on this, I’m reminded of instances in daily life where we might inadvertently distance ourselves from the struggles of others. It’s easy to turn a blind eye to societal issues or to view them from a comfortable distance, especially when they don’t directly impact our lives.
The story of the young boy caught in the criminal justice system is particularly painful and infuriating. His experience highlights the devastating consequences of systemic failures and institutional biases. I think of all the child soldiers who could not reintegrate into society when they finally escaped because society could not see them for what they were, innocents in a world corrupted. As I consider this, I can’t help but think of the countless individuals whose stories remain untold, whose suffering is obscured by layers of systemic oppression. I think of the Central Park Five and Adnan Syed here in the Global North; I think of all those who weren’t lucky enough to be born to elitist parents in Pakistan rotting behind bars in Pakistan in their thousands for petty crimes without a trial, with little knowledge of their rights, there to rot for all eternity it seems.
This leads me to step 2, Change the Narrative, of Stevenson’s four steps (proximity being the first one I touched on). This reminds me a lit about what Nguyen said about “narrative scarcity” and ‘plummetude.’ A lot of it has to do with representation o lack there of. We tend to offer perspectives of marginalized groups that may have been overlooked or misrepresented in mainstream discourse. Muslims are always backwards, dirty, terrorists that fantasize about being with white women because their own are unruly. Narratives like these matter. Muslims are often depicted through a narrow lens that focuses on extremism, terrorism, or cultural differences, so we shouldn’t be surprised by the Islamophobia and discrimination we see around us. This portrayal ignores the diversity within the Muslim community and fails to represent the vast majority of Muslims who lead peaceful and productive lives.
Step 3, Staying Hopeful, for me personally, is the hardest one not because I am negatives but because it’s not hard to feel outnumbered by al the evil that exists, especially when you learn adults don’t have all the answers an dare winging it themselves as they go. Stevenson believes that hope is essential for sustaining resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity and in times like this it can be seen as the only thing all of us hold on to, that that which has happened surely cannot go unpunished, this surely cannot be how it’s supposed to end, we surely cannot be mere bystanders. Recognizing the resilience and agency of survivors, also, can serve as a source of inspiration and motivation for them to continue the fight for justice, but is altho enough, are we satisfied by doing the bare minimum? The truth is most of us are.
Embracing discomfort and confronting challenging realities is indeed a vital aspect of personal growth and social change. Reflecting on my own experiences, I’ve come to recognize that I’ve developed a certain level of comfort with discomfort, particularly when it comes to engaging with difficult topics such as systemic injustice, war, survival, privilege, and oppression. I’ve actively practiced this is in seeking out diverse perspectives and voices, even when they challenge my own beliefs or assumptions. I’ve made a conscious effort to listen to marginalized voices, read literature from diverse authors, and engage in conversations that push me outside of my comfort zone. While this can sometimes be uncomfortable, especially when confronting my own privilege or biases, I’ve found that it’s an essential. That, I want to keep myself in check. You have to be grounded. I strongly believe that by actively engaging with discomfort, we can dismantle oppressive systems and cultivate a more just and equitable society for all, and this leads me to Sara’s chapter on grappling with discomfort and embracing activism.
Sara spoke about how being a killjoy – someone who disrupts oppressive norms and narratives – can often feel like an uphill battle. There’s a societal pressure to conform, to stop noticing, and bend to the norms that exist.This sentiment reflects the broader societal tendency to dismiss activism as unnecessary or disruptive, encouraging individuals to prioritize their own comfort over confronting injustice – the subtle discouragement from challenging the status quo. I saw Sara’s reflections as a mirror to my own journey as an activist or upset citizen. I found what she said interesting, particularly on how for instance even one’s dedication to social justice can be seen as a form of survival in itself. This commitment to survival goes beyond mere existence; it involves actively working towards a more just and equitable society for all. I never saw it like this before.
She spoke about tools, what are our tools? I don’t know. I think educating myself constantly, reading like it’s the answer to everything seems to be my go to and on a more embarrassing note, in my head, I change military songs to include female pronouns. I’m not just altering lyrics; I’m reshaping my perspective on my role in the world. With each word, I see myself as an active participant in the fight for social justice, striving to make a difference in the lives of others. In my imagination, I visualize myself working tirelessly towards the goal of a fairer, more compassionate society. I’m not just a bystander; I’m an agent of change, using my voice and actions to challenge injustice and promote equality.It’s about the end result I envision; it’s about embracing the process and recognizing the power of my own agency. By envisioning myself as part of the solution, perhaps therein lies my hope, I think I find hope and motivation to keep pushing forward like this.
To be honest, I was a little nervous about this theme, I didn’t know if I would have much to say or rather the energy to explain my reflections. Just as a gardener meticulously tends to the soil and plants to ensure their health and vitality, advocates for social change must similarly nurture the conditions conducive to progress within society. We need to take a multifaceted approach that goes beyond addressing surface-level symptoms to target the underlying root causes of systemic injustices. There’s a lot to unpackaged here, where does one even begin?
In the garden, the health of plants depends fundamentally on the quality of the soil. Our ecosystems matter; in society, the well-being of individuals and communities hinges on the foundational structures and systems in place. We need fertile ground. No one lays fertile ground for us, it’s up to us. We have a saying, “honor is in one’s own hands” as if to say one’s fate is in one’s own hands, a bit unfair especially when entire systems are set up to work against whole peoples, but I get it. It means no one is responsible for coming and creating the change for us, we all have to do out parts.
I couldn’t help but think of my aunt with Weiss’s gardening example. My aunt in Pakistan decided to stand up against the norms she felt victim to at a young age and decided to become self-sufficient. She chose a usual profession for an educated woman in Pakistan or so they say. She is surrounded by fields tended to by male farmers. Despite the odds stacked against her she decided to become a farmer. At first, people doubt her abilities because farming is seen as a man’s job, but she made her soil fertile. She started by planting seeds in the soil. Every day, she watered them and watched them grow. A furniture and fashion designer by training, this was certainly a usual decision. Still, Slowly but surely her crops start flourishing and now others amazed by her success have begun to take notice. When we farm in Pakistan, we don’t just tend to land but must also tend to the people, which means solving their disputes among one another, among other villages, their concerns medical, educational, or religious, and a westernized appearing woman like my aunt seems the odd choice at first glance. In nurturing the plants’ roots to help them thrive, my khala advocated for social change side by side not just leading the way for more women like her but by taking on these duties traditionally associated with men. She did not shy from identifying the deep-seated issues causing injustice and start addressing them, just like nurturing the roots of a plant ensures healthy growth. By focusing on the roots, she challenged stereotypes and inspired others like myself, showing me change doesn’t always begin with nurturing the very foundation of society, but can even start from one’e own house.
This leads me to my first question: How can we actively cultivate fertile ground for social change within our own communities?
2) I often ponder how our classroom experiences, where we’re exposed to the multifaceted struggles and viewpoints of our peers, influence our perceptions of the world – the myriad challenges encountered by all of us from diverse backgrounds, especially when they appear vastly different from our own. Equally intriguing is contemplating how others perceive the world through my lens, and how these mutual realizations shape our interactions and understanding of each other’s realities.
Sorry for the rant, I didn’t anticipate writing this much
This week’s reading material I found to be engaging and thought-provoking. I found Toni Morrison’s Nobel Peace speech powerful underscoring the power of language within our everyday lives, emphasizing its role in making sense of the world around us. The anecdote involving the bird particularly resonated with me. Moreover, what resonated was language as a tool for confronting oppression and giving voice to marginalized communities. Furthermore, the ways in which she advocates for narratives that seek to confront conventional wisdom while promoting inclusivity, diversity, and embed with social justice. She prompts us to contemplate how we can choose to refrain from perpetuating harmful narratives. One of the key takeaways from her speech is the power of language and how it utilized to create meaningful change which overall helped me to reconsider the ways in which we use language.
From Ahmed reading, one of the key takeaways for me is the way that survival can be a revolutionary act. What resonated with me is her notions around self-care that I think we can all use more of (i.e., taking care of our bodies).
What I enjoyed most from the Weiss reading is the root as a metaphor and radical politics and a way to think about social change. One part stood out for me was the need for individuals to be “more inquiring, creative, and respectful lifelong learning gardeners and activists.”
Brian Stevenson speech allowed me to reflect deeply on the work and research that I have been engaged with. In a similar vein as Morrison, Stevenson allows us to challenge the narrative alluding to the criminal justice system. When thinking about the issue of mass incarceration, I have always taken more a restorative justice approach. Similar to Stevenson’s perspective, I hold the belief that the strain on the criminal justice system could be eased, as illustrated by the example he provided regarding charges of simple drug possession. What resonated with me from his speech was the notion of proximity and is key for understanding the nuances and lived experiences can help to inform better policymaking.
His reference to racial inequality within the CJS brings to mind the seminal 1999 ruling by the Supreme Court of Canada in R. v. Gladue, which underscored the importance of equity in justice administration, particularly concerning Indigenous offenders. This landmark decision mandates judges to consider an offender’s Indigenous background and circumstances during sentencing, including historical, social, and economic factors. Rooted in the legacy of colonialism, residential schools, and racism faced by Indigenous peoples in Canada, the ruling emphasizes the need for restorative justice measures. There is a focus on restorative justice measures which involves exploring alternatives to incarceration and taking into account the root causes of the issue, including factors like poverty, trauma, and intergenerational trauma. We know that high rates of offending may link to high poverty rates, low level of education, poor health, substance abuse (SCC, 1999).
A question worth considering is how can partnerships between Indigenous communities, government, and civil society organizations be strengthened to enhance the effectiveness of the R. v. Gladue decision and improve broader efforts towards justice and reconciliation in Canada?
I really loved the readings and talk this week. My mum is an avid gardener – and has always said that the process of playing in the dirt and paying close attention to plants grounded her in her life and her stressful work as a nurse practitioner in the ER/ICU. I sent Penny Weiss’ article to her and we had a wonderful conversation about it (while walking among the budding cherry blossoms!) this weekend, particularly noting the helpful metaphors of oppressive systems being accurately seen as toxic to the health and growth of life around them and the precise nuancing of paying attention and providing specific care as needed, employing different strategies of care or uprooting to different challenges.
(a parallel note: I’ve watched my mum come back to herself and to hope by digging her hands in the dirt, growing vegetables with care, and tilling up persistent weeds, in similar ways to how the movement of hiking, running, or biking and the pounding of my heart in my chest brings me back to myself and to my own rootedness. I’ve reflected on this a lot this week: These, ultimately, aren’t just practices of care, they’re a necessary part of the work itself – an act of resistance and care, as much as it’s also a practice of joy and hope that fuels the hard and messy work of justice. And maybe it is itself even a blueprint of the kind of world we actually want: not separate from the land or from each other, but restored to both.)
Weiss, Haraway, and Stevenson speak of the need to get close. Close (or proximate) to those we are tempted to “other”, close enough to the issues we’re aiming to address that we can see their nuances and complications with clarity and appropriate context, and close to the land and our non-human relations who have much to teach us about growth and goodness. They invite us to truly pay attention: so that we can, as Haraway calls it, practice and cultivate cultivating response-ability. This response-ability is to systems and to people and to the most mundane “ordinariness” of our walking-around lives. Sometimes getting close sounds incredible and sometimes the invitation of proximity and mutuality is incredibly challenging, challenging my own default to ideological other-ing.
What stands out to me in these readings and my own work and activism is the need to see the work of feminist inquiry, scholarship, activism, protest, and world-making as a PRACTICE. A practice of joy and hope. Of curiosity. Of generosity towards difference. Of rest. Of play. Of dancing. Of tenacity. Of anger not stifled. Of grief not silenced. And of robust care of ourselves and of others. It’s a practice of living according to our reciprocity and mutuality, even when those are the things we want to push against.
But practice takes…practice. And so there’s a really powerful invitation here too to be willing to be uncomfortable, to try and fail, and to extend the same graciousness to another.
Questions:
Sara Ahmed threads the both/and of happiness and actual change-making when she quotes Audre Lorde: (1) “Was I really fighting the spread of radiation, racism, woman-slaughter, chemical invasion of our food, pollution of our environment, and the abuse and psychic destruction of our young, merely to avoid dealing with my first and greatest responsibility to be happy?” and (2) “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare” Can we hold to both true + robust activism and change and also tend dearly and profoundly to our own happiness? (to be both at rest and uncomfortable in pushing for better ways and better worlds, both.) If so, how?
What practices of hope and joy fill you up and sustain you in your feminist practice? How do you build care of self and care of others into your “ordinary and everyday” life?
I loved Sarah Ahmed’s words about survival as a form of protest, and “how we care for ourselves becomes an expression of feminist care”. It means finding a way to exist in a world that makes it difficult to exist. More personally (for my cynical brain), this means finding ways to have joy and hope when it can be easily lost in this world.
The readings this week were a form of care for me. Providing encouragement and conviction to move beyond learning and into action. I was really encouraged by the idea of social change and justice as a constant process of uprooting and planting, just like gardening. According to Penny, a garden is never really done – the same is true for political change. To even assume that patriarchy and colonialism are uprooted, fails to think about what comes after. Penny writes “What comes to occupy their spaces is note ceremoniously planted once and left to its own devices … but needs to be nurtured and reconfigured over time…”. Addressing systems of violence means we’ll potentially have to be frequently weeding. Addressing the comment someone made, explaining microaggressions, fighting for ceasefires, not laughing at the joke, the list can go on… We will always be weeding, but the act of weeding shouldn’t (and can’t) consume our entire selves. There’s balance in resting, laughing, living, understanding, and fighting.
If we reframed justice and social change as a garden, would that change our advocacy and how we care for ourselves?
This also means we cannot ‘weed’ alone. Brian Stevenson, Penny Weiss, and Sarah Ahmed, all reminded me of the need for community and connection to what you’re fighting – get close! This can also be done with hope, creativity, and care at the center. How can we create genuine networks of community in our feminism – in workplaces, families, and even with people who have differing beliefs? What are some ways you remain creative in your feminist practices?
This week’s readings made me think back to last week’s discussion/rant about only targeting and supporting individuals who are similar to you. However, this can have harmful implications. The tendency to only engage with and support individuals similar to oneself can perpetuate unhealthy patterns of exclusion and reinforce existing power dynamics. When we limit our interactions to those who share our backgrounds, identities, or perspectives, we inadvertently marginalize others who may not fit within those narrow parameters. This approach hampers our growth and understanding and hinders the collective progress toward more significant equity and justice.
Expanding our circles of connection and solidarity is vital for creating inclusive communities and effecting meaningful social change. Embracing diversity—whether it be in terms of race, gender, sexuality, ability, or other dimensions of identity—enriches our experiences and perspectives, enabling us to learn from one another and challenge our own assumptions. By actively seeking out and amplifying the voices and experiences of those different from us, we can begin to dismantle the barriers that uphold systems of oppression and create spaces where everyone feels valued and heard.
Furthermore, this commitment to diversity and inclusion extends beyond individual relationships to encompass broader structures and institutions. It requires us to critically examine how systems of power and privilege operate to advantage some groups while marginalizing others. By advocating for policies and practices that promote equity and accessibility, we can work towards creating more just and inclusive environments where everyone has the opportunity to thrive.
Ultimately, challenging the impulse to only engage with the familiar and stepping outside our comfort zones is necessary to cultivate empathy, solidarity, and collective resilience. It’s about recognizing the interconnectedness of our struggles and acknowledging that our liberation is bound up with the liberation of others. By embracing diversity and discomfort, we can move closer to building a more equitable and compassionate world for all.
Weiss, Haraway, and Stevenson advocate for the importance of closeness in various dimensions of our lives. They urge us to draw near to those we might typically distance or marginalize, engage intimately with the complexities of the issues we seek to address, and reconnect with the earth and its non-human inhabitants as sources of wisdom and insight. This call to proximity challenges us to understand and respond with sensitivity and accountability.
What resonates profoundly in this exploration is the notion of feminist work and activism as a continual practice—an ongoing journey characterized by joy, hope, curiosity, and a deep embrace of difference. It’s about balancing rest and action, playfulness and determination, expressing anger and acknowledging grief. This practice demands self-care and care for others, rooted in principles of reciprocity and mutual respect, even in moments of resistance.
However, engaging in this practice requires effort and perseverance. It involves a willingness to embrace discomfort, to experiment and learn from failure, and to extend grace to ourselves and others along the way. It’s an invitation to lean into the messiness of growth and transformation, knowing that through these challenges, we truly expand our capacity for empathy, understanding, and meaningful change.
My question for the class is: How can we actively challenge our tendencies to gravitate towards similar individuals and instead cultivate meaningful connections with those who bring diverse perspectives and experiences to the table? What specific steps can we take to expand our circles of solidarity and create more inclusive spaces for collaboration and collective action?
On Saturday, at a pro-Palestine demonstration at Stanley Park in Vancouver, someone burnt a copy of the Quran. My heart sank witnessing that. But it completely ripped apart when just a few hours later, I opened a Pakistani news website and read about reports of suspected arson at a church in a remote town in Pakistan after Good Friday. Two acts of hatred, worlds apart yet cut from the same cloth.
This week’s readings, as well as events, have reiterated one thing: that the true lesson lies in the unlearning just as much as the learning. Through the course of these past few months and the many authors we interacted with, I was exposed to the layers of inequalities, structural violence and intolerance that exists in different shapes and forms in almost every society. And all of that is so deeply rooted and so intertwined with each other that all of us are somehow trapped in a vicious cycle of that is tough to break and is often fueled by institutions that have strayed far from their original purpose. I can also see that those who suffer oppression can, in turn, oppress within their own circles too.
Societies are often structured in ways that deepen divides rather than bridge them. Our worlds may appear different in its problems and crises, yet at their core, these issues are remarkably similar. They stem from a historical context that has allowed power, prejudice and inequality to grow.
And maybe these are the roots that Weiss spoke about getting to. These supposed pillars, that preach tolerance and kindness, often misrepresented and weaponized. Religion being one of them, as it is used to shape national narratives and policies in ways that often harm those who are marginalized.
Religion is maybe an extremely sensitive example, that would probably land me in jail for blasphemy if I said this back in my home country. But it is one example of how the roots that were supposed to help us grow as a society have turned into the strangler figs that envelop the host tree. Maybe I am getting all my metaphors tangled up.
That being said, Weiss challenges the conventional perception of radical activism as solely focused on uprooting and eradicating problematic systems. Instead, she advocates for a more nuanced approach that includes nurturing new, positive systems and leveraging existing ones beneficially. This perspective resonates with the concept of intersectionality in feminist theory, acknowledging the interconnected nature of social categorizations and their ability to create overlapping systems of discrimination or disadvantage.
This idea that Weiss presents, holds significant promise for a country like Pakistan. With a literacy rate of just 59.3 percent, the potential for transformative change through education is substantial. Addressing the roots of intolerance by cultivating spaces that champion acceptance and open-mindedness can lead to a society that values creation and growth over destruction.
Weiss’s vision of a nuanced approach calls for an investment in education that teaches not just literacy but critical thinking, empathy, and the rich benefits of a diverse society. By reimagining and reinforcing educational structures to be more inclusive, Pakistan and many other societies alike can begin to dismantle the overlapping systems of discrimination that intersectionality highlights.
In this class, I have learned that understanding these complexities is just the beginning. The real challenge lies in translating this understanding into action — in stepping out of the comfort zones to challenge the status quo, in nurturing new ways of thinking and being, and in using language not as a weapon, but as a bridge towards understanding and empathy.
And this was the part about Stevenson’s talk that resonated with me. His insistence on proximity to effect change. We must step closer to the issues, feel their impact, and understand their complexities. This approach is not about comfort; it’s about confronting harsh realities. I have noticed people in my other classes get awkwardly quiet when I or my other international friends speak about their lived experiences in countries unfamiliar to their Western lens. “Wow, that got dark real quick,” I have heard one of them say in response, before springing on to another happier topic. I have been told by several of my j-school colleagues, professors and guest speakers that they prefer to do journalism that focuses on more positive news. But if everyone here wants to report on food, culture, celebrity gossip, bridge clubs in Vancouver, then who will become the voice for the marginalized? Who will face the darker, harsher realities of life?
These are not easy tasks. They require persistence, courage, and, most importantly, hope. But if we are to break the cycle, we have no other choice. This is the lesson that I will be carrying forward with me as I continue to find my way through this world fraught with challenges but also full of possibilities for change.
Questions:
– Weiss suggests a more nuanced approach to activism that involves nurturing new systems. What are some practical steps that can be taken to nurture such systems within deep-rooted societal structures?
– What are the impacts of radical change tactics that focus on destruction versus those that focus on creation. Is there a place for both in effective activism?
This week’s readings were so powerful and very much needed! They reminded us of the role of empathy to other and ourselves and speaking up against injustice, while also instilling a sense of hope for a more just and equitable future.
Brian’s talk resonated deeply with me. His emphasis on the importance of proximity, of getting to know and truly seeing those who suffer from injustice, struck a chord with me. It’s through this proximity that real change can occur, as we bear witness to the struggles of marginalized communities and refuse to turn a blind eye. The shared responsibility for addressing injustice, particularly in the face of societal narratives that dehumanize certain groups, is a poignant reminder of the urgency of our collective action. Stevenson’s words compel us to challenge the “us versus them” mentality and cultivate empathy for all people, regardless of our differences and to never tolerate injustice.
His discussion around “being hopeful” is interconnected to Penny’s comparison of social change and justice to gardening. Penny articulated very well how like a garden, political change is an ongoing process of uprooting and planting. It serves as a reminder that change is gradual, and it requires hope, courage, and patience. We must remain steadfast in our efforts, knowing that transformation takes time. This metaphor encourages us to persevere and stay committed to the journey of social change, trusting that our personal and collective actions will bear fruit in due time. Personally, as someone wo is engaged in community activism and peacebuilding, I often grapple with feelings of hopelessness in the face of entrenched injustices, because I want to see change- Immediate change! However, Brian’s reminder that “injustice prevails where hopelessness persists” serves as a beacon of hope, urging me/us to remain committed in our belief that change is possible. Staying patient and hopeful while waiting for change is crucial!
Sarah Ahmed motivated us to embark on our own journeys of feminist, self-discovery, and collective resistance. She also reminded us that true liberation requires a solid commitment to challenging injustice and building inclusive, equitable futures. She underscores the transformative potential of theory when it resonates with the experiences of everyday life.
Ahmed’s key message is the call to resist becoming complicit in systems of oppression, echoing Audre Lorde’s imperative to dismantle the master’s house without replicating its grammar. Through her own practices, such as prioritizing citations of feminists of color, Ahmed demonstrates the power of challenging dominant narratives and constructing alternative discourses, and encouraged is to do so in collective solidarity.
Toni Morrison’s insight resonates deeply in today’s world, where conflicts and wars sow division by forcing us to choose sides. She reminded is about the power of language in shaping perception and the dangers of oppressive discourse. She urges for narratives that embrace complexity, acknowledging the struggles and experiences of marginalized voices. Through her story, she invites us to reflect on the role of storytelling in understanding our shared humanity and the importance of fostering empathy and understanding in a divided world.
Discussion questions:
1) How does Brian Stevenson’s emphasis on proximity and bearing witness to the struggles of marginalized communities inform our understanding of effective social change strategies in public policy? How can we practice this with the people who are far from us? e.g.: people in Gaza?
2) In what ways does Penny’s analogy of social change and justice to gardening metaphor guide our approach to policymaking?
This week’s readings and videos resonated with me greatly, especially Sara Ahmed’s, but Brian Stevenson really shook me. This is not because he didn’t say anything that I was unaware of but because when I read about harms and the pain felt by people that is out of my control I distance myself from their personal stories reading about incidents from a distance. Stevenson stresses on proximity, the very thing I carefully deny myself to get through times like this, but it’s so powerful, proximity, and much needed. One of the most striking aspects of his message is the emphasis on proximity—the idea that meaningful change requires getting close to the problems, understanding them intimately, and empathizing with those affected. I, wholeheartedly agree and try to abide by this.
Separately, I am conflicted at times by my tendency to avoid personal stories when confronting devastating events in human history, like the Holocaust, conflicts in Gaza, or cases of sexual abuse, stemming from my natural inclination to shield myself from discomfort and fear. However, avoiding personal stories perpetuates cycles of silence and erasure, ultimately enabling the systems of oppression and injustice that allowed these atrocities to occur. Confronting uncomfortable truths requires courage, empathy, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. I have tried to do so, such as in this class when I watched For Samaa with all its uncensored raw content. Reflecting on this, I’m reminded of instances in daily life where we might inadvertently distance ourselves from the struggles of others. It’s easy to turn a blind eye to societal issues or to view them from a comfortable distance, especially when they don’t directly impact our lives.
The story of the young boy caught in the criminal justice system is particularly painful and infuriating. His experience highlights the devastating consequences of systemic failures and institutional biases. I think of all the child soldiers who could not reintegrate into society when they finally escaped because society could not see them for what they were, innocents in a world corrupted. As I consider this, I can’t help but think of the countless individuals whose stories remain untold, whose suffering is obscured by layers of systemic oppression. I think of the Central Park Five and Adnan Syed here in the Global North; I think of all those who weren’t lucky enough to be born to elitist parents in Pakistan rotting behind bars in Pakistan in their thousands for petty crimes without a trial, with little knowledge of their rights, there to rot for all eternity it seems.
This leads me to step 2, Change the Narrative, of Stevenson’s four steps (proximity being the first one I touched on). This reminds me a lit about what Nguyen said about “narrative scarcity” and ‘plummetude.’ A lot of it has to do with representation o lack there of. We tend to offer perspectives of marginalized groups that may have been overlooked or misrepresented in mainstream discourse. Muslims are always backwards, dirty, terrorists that fantasize about being with white women because their own are unruly. Narratives like these matter. Muslims are often depicted through a narrow lens that focuses on extremism, terrorism, or cultural differences, so we shouldn’t be surprised by the Islamophobia and discrimination we see around us. This portrayal ignores the diversity within the Muslim community and fails to represent the vast majority of Muslims who lead peaceful and productive lives.
Step 3, Staying Hopeful, for me personally, is the hardest one not because I am negatives but because it’s not hard to feel outnumbered by al the evil that exists, especially when you learn adults don’t have all the answers an dare winging it themselves as they go. Stevenson believes that hope is essential for sustaining resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity and in times like this it can be seen as the only thing all of us hold on to, that that which has happened surely cannot go unpunished, this surely cannot be how it’s supposed to end, we surely cannot be mere bystanders. Recognizing the resilience and agency of survivors, also, can serve as a source of inspiration and motivation for them to continue the fight for justice, but is altho enough, are we satisfied by doing the bare minimum? The truth is most of us are.
Embracing discomfort and confronting challenging realities is indeed a vital aspect of personal growth and social change. Reflecting on my own experiences, I’ve come to recognize that I’ve developed a certain level of comfort with discomfort, particularly when it comes to engaging with difficult topics such as systemic injustice, war, survival, privilege, and oppression. I’ve actively practiced this is in seeking out diverse perspectives and voices, even when they challenge my own beliefs or assumptions. I’ve made a conscious effort to listen to marginalized voices, read literature from diverse authors, and engage in conversations that push me outside of my comfort zone. While this can sometimes be uncomfortable, especially when confronting my own privilege or biases, I’ve found that it’s an essential. That, I want to keep myself in check. You have to be grounded. I strongly believe that by actively engaging with discomfort, we can dismantle oppressive systems and cultivate a more just and equitable society for all, and this leads me to Sara’s chapter on grappling with discomfort and embracing activism.
Sara spoke about how being a killjoy – someone who disrupts oppressive norms and narratives – can often feel like an uphill battle. There’s a societal pressure to conform, to stop noticing, and bend to the norms that exist.This sentiment reflects the broader societal tendency to dismiss activism as unnecessary or disruptive, encouraging individuals to prioritize their own comfort over confronting injustice – the subtle discouragement from challenging the status quo. I saw Sara’s reflections as a mirror to my own journey as an activist or upset citizen. I found what she said interesting, particularly on how for instance even one’s dedication to social justice can be seen as a form of survival in itself. This commitment to survival goes beyond mere existence; it involves actively working towards a more just and equitable society for all. I never saw it like this before.
She spoke about tools, what are our tools? I don’t know. I think educating myself constantly, reading like it’s the answer to everything seems to be my go to and on a more embarrassing note, in my head, I change military songs to include female pronouns. I’m not just altering lyrics; I’m reshaping my perspective on my role in the world. With each word, I see myself as an active participant in the fight for social justice, striving to make a difference in the lives of others. In my imagination, I visualize myself working tirelessly towards the goal of a fairer, more compassionate society. I’m not just a bystander; I’m an agent of change, using my voice and actions to challenge injustice and promote equality.It’s about the end result I envision; it’s about embracing the process and recognizing the power of my own agency. By envisioning myself as part of the solution, perhaps therein lies my hope, I think I find hope and motivation to keep pushing forward like this.
To be honest, I was a little nervous about this theme, I didn’t know if I would have much to say or rather the energy to explain my reflections. Just as a gardener meticulously tends to the soil and plants to ensure their health and vitality, advocates for social change must similarly nurture the conditions conducive to progress within society. We need to take a multifaceted approach that goes beyond addressing surface-level symptoms to target the underlying root causes of systemic injustices. There’s a lot to unpackaged here, where does one even begin?
In the garden, the health of plants depends fundamentally on the quality of the soil. Our ecosystems matter; in society, the well-being of individuals and communities hinges on the foundational structures and systems in place. We need fertile ground. No one lays fertile ground for us, it’s up to us. We have a saying, “honor is in one’s own hands” as if to say one’s fate is in one’s own hands, a bit unfair especially when entire systems are set up to work against whole peoples, but I get it. It means no one is responsible for coming and creating the change for us, we all have to do out parts.
I couldn’t help but think of my aunt with Weiss’s gardening example. My aunt in Pakistan decided to stand up against the norms she felt victim to at a young age and decided to become self-sufficient. She chose a usual profession for an educated woman in Pakistan or so they say. She is surrounded by fields tended to by male farmers. Despite the odds stacked against her she decided to become a farmer. At first, people doubt her abilities because farming is seen as a man’s job, but she made her soil fertile. She started by planting seeds in the soil. Every day, she watered them and watched them grow. A furniture and fashion designer by training, this was certainly a usual decision. Still, Slowly but surely her crops start flourishing and now others amazed by her success have begun to take notice. When we farm in Pakistan, we don’t just tend to land but must also tend to the people, which means solving their disputes among one another, among other villages, their concerns medical, educational, or religious, and a westernized appearing woman like my aunt seems the odd choice at first glance. In nurturing the plants’ roots to help them thrive, my khala advocated for social change side by side not just leading the way for more women like her but by taking on these duties traditionally associated with men. She did not shy from identifying the deep-seated issues causing injustice and start addressing them, just like nurturing the roots of a plant ensures healthy growth. By focusing on the roots, she challenged stereotypes and inspired others like myself, showing me change doesn’t always begin with nurturing the very foundation of society, but can even start from one’e own house.
This leads me to my first question: How can we actively cultivate fertile ground for social change within our own communities?
2) I often ponder how our classroom experiences, where we’re exposed to the multifaceted struggles and viewpoints of our peers, influence our perceptions of the world – the myriad challenges encountered by all of us from diverse backgrounds, especially when they appear vastly different from our own. Equally intriguing is contemplating how others perceive the world through my lens, and how these mutual realizations shape our interactions and understanding of each other’s realities.
Sorry for the rant, I didn’t anticipate writing this much
This week’s reading material I found to be engaging and thought-provoking. I found Toni Morrison’s Nobel Peace speech powerful underscoring the power of language within our everyday lives, emphasizing its role in making sense of the world around us. The anecdote involving the bird particularly resonated with me. Moreover, what resonated was language as a tool for confronting oppression and giving voice to marginalized communities. Furthermore, the ways in which she advocates for narratives that seek to confront conventional wisdom while promoting inclusivity, diversity, and embed with social justice. She prompts us to contemplate how we can choose to refrain from perpetuating harmful narratives. One of the key takeaways from her speech is the power of language and how it utilized to create meaningful change which overall helped me to reconsider the ways in which we use language.
From Ahmed reading, one of the key takeaways for me is the way that survival can be a revolutionary act. What resonated with me is her notions around self-care that I think we can all use more of (i.e., taking care of our bodies).
What I enjoyed most from the Weiss reading is the root as a metaphor and radical politics and a way to think about social change. One part stood out for me was the need for individuals to be “more inquiring, creative, and respectful lifelong learning gardeners and activists.”
Brian Stevenson speech allowed me to reflect deeply on the work and research that I have been engaged with. In a similar vein as Morrison, Stevenson allows us to challenge the narrative alluding to the criminal justice system. When thinking about the issue of mass incarceration, I have always taken more a restorative justice approach. Similar to Stevenson’s perspective, I hold the belief that the strain on the criminal justice system could be eased, as illustrated by the example he provided regarding charges of simple drug possession. What resonated with me from his speech was the notion of proximity and is key for understanding the nuances and lived experiences can help to inform better policymaking.
His reference to racial inequality within the CJS brings to mind the seminal 1999 ruling by the Supreme Court of Canada in R. v. Gladue, which underscored the importance of equity in justice administration, particularly concerning Indigenous offenders. This landmark decision mandates judges to consider an offender’s Indigenous background and circumstances during sentencing, including historical, social, and economic factors. Rooted in the legacy of colonialism, residential schools, and racism faced by Indigenous peoples in Canada, the ruling emphasizes the need for restorative justice measures. There is a focus on restorative justice measures which involves exploring alternatives to incarceration and taking into account the root causes of the issue, including factors like poverty, trauma, and intergenerational trauma. We know that high rates of offending may link to high poverty rates, low level of education, poor health, substance abuse (SCC, 1999).
A question worth considering is how can partnerships between Indigenous communities, government, and civil society organizations be strengthened to enhance the effectiveness of the R. v. Gladue decision and improve broader efforts towards justice and reconciliation in Canada?