Human Rights; A Tool in Embellishing Self Identity

During my Grade 10 year in high school, I gained interest in humanitarian actions. I got myself involved in a club called “Global Initiatives” through where we learned about global problems as well as fundraising for our humanitarian trip to the Dominican Republic in the Spring. I was fully engaged in this activity and felt like I was making a positive impact and was feeling good about myself. However that was until I learned to critically think and question myself.

Through the intensive academic program, the International Baccalaureate (IB), I was taught the ways of critical thinking. I began to question my own humanitarian acts, whether I was truly doing it for the good of the people, or was just for my self-interest and this internal questioning still continues. Am I doing this because I really care and wish to change the life of others in a positive manner, or is it because as Gillian Whitlock, writer of Soft Weapons, phrases it,  it’s simply fulfilling the “Western traditions of benevolence” and because it is the current fashion to be aware of the global problems?

With the consumption of autobiographies in the framework of humanitarianism and human rights, I feel like many are unable to fully specify why they choose to do. Perhaps there are very passionate humanitarians, but many of us approach and consume these narratives without thorough thought. What are we supporting when we consume autobiographies that consider violations of human rights? Writer of Contesting Childhood, Kate Douglas raises how we gain the false impression readers acquire as advocates for the autobiographical subject when we consume autobiographies.

I find this problem is especially captured in the recent consumer culture where humanitarian efforts have become a commodity in which readers use to embellish their self-representation, and thus marginalized life narratives have started to lose their significance through their mass consumption by uneducated readers. In the Western culture, responding to human rights violations has almost become a trend and humanitarian beliefs and efforts is a fashionable identity to carry. This identity is easily attainable as the mass production and consumption of personal narratives that are circulated across Western bookstores allows accessibility to anyone. With this easy accessibility and the current vogue of humanitarianism, I feel as if life narratives are being carelessly misused as tools to establish and embellish a consumers’ identity. I sense we need to remember that these non-fiction stories should be given more weight as they are personal life events of an individual and therefore they should not be used a decoration to enhance a self-identity.

Myself? I am still unsure whether I am using humanitarianism as a tool to embellish my identity and to be with the current trend or whether I am actually passionate about these cases. Perhaps I will only find out when this trend of humanitarian action passes and I am able to see myself without any external factors.

Engaging Western Audiences Through Visuals

Currently in our ASTU course, we are reading and analyzing the graphic narrative, Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi. This text is a memoir illustrating the author, Marjane or Marji (as referred in the comic), growing up within the complex conflict of the Iran-Iraq war and the Islamic Revolution.

I really enjoy the fact there is so much to think about with this text; there is much to look into such the significance of the devices, the context, and its overall purpose. This is my first graphic narrative and it has illuminated me in its powerful ability to demonstrate a memory. As Chute touches on, I believe that this use of imagery to really captures the essence of memory and illustrates exactly what Satrapi remembers and has forgotten. Yes, she has thought out on what to include and what to leave out since she is the mastermind of the composition of this comic, but within that confinement of her decision of content, the simplicity in her drawings and the colour choices really portray the experience of remembering. If we look at a regular fiction comic or manga such as The Adventures of TInTin, since it is a synthetic plot, the drawings are very detailed and colourful. In retrospect, I believe that the effective use black and white colours created a greater attraction, as it was easy to focus due to the absence of distracting details and colours.

I also found the use of visuals very powerful. As I mentioned this in my group presentation, the use of visuals really allows for the visualization and as Chute describes, “bearing witness.” I often struggle with dense readings especially with political readings. In addition, as a Western audience member, I have no direct connections to the Middle Eastern countries. However during my experience of reading the book, I was able to comprehend and better put the complex political situation in perspective. As my group member Maria explained in our presentation, in addition to the visual aids, the childhood perspective Satrapi used to explain the political conflicts that allowed for simplicity in Marji’s explanations and thus allowed me as a reader to understand such foreign topics. Furthermore, an idea brought up based on our presentation by another classmate Emily, is the idea how the childhood perspective, and having a child narrate the story allows for a connection with the reader as they have all experienced childhood as well and thus it invokes a sense of sympathy for Marji. Indeed, when I was reading the text, I felt a sort of guilt as I’ve taken my life for granted-a life without the chaos of war and oppression of freedom. And that was probably Satrapi’s intention–not just to simply teach the Western audience about the situation in Iran without the censorship by the government, but to show how oblivious the Western audience can be to their granted positions of a peaceful society.

Hidden Realties

In recognition to the tragic history of Canada’s Indian Residential Schools and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, on September 17th I attended the Morris and Helen Belkin Art Gallery’s exhibit, “WITNESSES” and the Museum of Anthropology’s (MOA) exhibit, “Speaking to Memory: Images and Voices from St. Michael’s Residential School.” Both exhibits delivered the same issue; the upsetting reality of the displacement of First Nations children from their families by Indian Residential Schools where they were assimilated into the Euro-Canadian identity, abandoning their Aboriginal culture. Children experienced physical and sexual abuse at these residential schools as well.

My high school, compared to other schools, had always emphasized and valued the First Nations culture and traditions. We had classes specified for our Aboriginal students, our school was furnished with totem poles, and our school logo had recently been updated with a First Nation’s artwork touch. However quite frankly, although I often questioned the emphasis, I never put the effort to actually understand or learn the culture and its history. And as a result, I had a false perspective of the First Nations people at my school.

My overall impression when leaving the Belkin Gallery and the MOA was ‘hopeful’. Trying to think of why I felt this, I reflected on what I saw at the galleries, and it then came to my conscious that what I had seen were all life narratives; all pieces that voiced the artist’s past personal experiences and their current impacts from the Indian Residential Schools. The power of life narratives affected me in such a way as if actually knew these artists as well as receiving insight of their situation and what I felt from their artwork as hope for a peaceful future for Aboriginals.

Much of the stories I picked up from the artworks were none of what I had even heard of during any of my First Nation studies I acquired from school. Life narratives capture personal insight on what had happened to the a sole member of society and at times can reveal stories of what may have been concealed from society. In addition, with the poor documentation of the residential schools, these life narratives play a vital role in uncovering the reality of the history. I realized how valuable these pieces were, considering that much of the reality had been silenced and unknown to the public until now.

A particular art piece that reflected this is the series of paintings by Gina Laing. It illustrated her experience being sexually assaulted by supervisors at the Residential Schools in the form of her drawings. I found this the most distressing artwork in the gallery, perhaps because it was so graphic and described so vividly. If it were not for her to publicize her experience, myself and the rest of the community would have never known the fear and the gruesome reality that victims of the residential schools had faced, and help in the healing process of the traumatic experience.

Today, I can say that my visit to the two galleries has changed my outlook on the Aboriginal culture. Now with my better knowledge of the history, I am able to rethink the social problems that are prevalent today, such as the disparities between Aboriginals and non-Aboriginals since I am now aware of the potential sources of these problems. The exposure of new unknown information through life narratives also display that we should be aware that everyday we live lacking details and certain truths from what we learn through news and mass media. This proves the frequent need for reconciliation; to bring back and take the time to draw attention to overlooked details and mistakes made in the past and reflect on them to be aware of the decisions made in the future.