stacey-marie | 28 | Athens, Ga. | photographer / zine-writer | selenographie | about | ask
Black Dude: I’m not prejudiced, but I’m gonna put you in my phone as White Stacey, ‘cause I don’t know any white girls.
White Girl (me): No problem, dude! I mean, all us white girls look the same anyway.
[laughter, high fives, drinks, etc.]
Have at it, Internetz…
Most of my writing comes from my 1.7-mile walk home from work at night:
If they explained to you it means you asked.
Also, I am assuming that if immigrants do pick the vegetables I eat they aren’t being forced to do it, tortured and killed. Are they?
“if immigrants do pick the vegetables I eat they aren’t being forced to do it, tortured and killed. Are they?”
i pray that this is a legit question and not sarcasm. I really hope so….
seriously. jfc.
from the state department’s trafficking in persons report, 2011:
The United States is a source, transit, and destination country for men, women, and children subjected to forced labor, debt bondage, document servitude, and sex trafficking. Trafficking occurs for commercial sexual exploitation in street prostitution, massage parlors, and brothels, and for labor in domestic service, agriculture, manufacturing, janitorial services, hotel services, hospitality industries, construction, health and elder care, and strip club dancing. Vulnerabilities are increasingly found in visa programs for legally documented students and temporary workers who typically fill labor needs in the hospitality, landscaping, construction, food service, and agricultural industries. There are allegations of domestic workers, foreign nationals on A-3 and G-5 visas, subjected to forced labor by foreign diplomatic or consular personnel posted to the United States. Combined federal and state human trafficking information indicates more sex trafficking than labor trafficking investigations and prosecutions, but law enforcement identified a comparatively higher number of labor trafficking victims as such cases uncovered recently have involved more victims. U.S. citizen victims, both adults and children, are predominantly found in sex trafficking; U.S. citizen child victims are often runaways, troubled, and homeless youth. Foreign victims are more often found in labor trafficking than sex trafficking. In 2010, the number of female foreign victims of labor trafficking served through victim services programs increased compared with 2009. The top countries of origin for foreign victims in FY 2010 were Thailand, India, Mexico, Philippines, Haiti, Honduras, El Salvador, and the Dominican Republic.
There’s one for every country you get your veggies from, not just the US.
Reblogged for commentary and because I’m married to Chelsea Peretti & her sweaters. And because I’m just gonna reblog shit while I try to play enough Good Charlotte to push every other DC Punk off my last.fm charts as I wait to come down softly so I don’t self-destruct.
(Source: luckyduky)
It’s all about perspective.
This is actually a huge reason that many people become vegan. If we weren’t wasting so much food feeding livestock for meat, milk, eggs, etc. we could feed every last person on this planet. So perhaps people should start doing a little research about veganism before they decide to attack it.
Yup. Main reason I went vegetarian at the beginning was because of the extreme food waste that was happening.
Take it up with Natalie Dee, I’m just lolling. I’m not saying it’s wrong to be vegan; I just think the point was that people are incredibly selective with their eating while people in other countries (as well as in our own country) are starving. So while some people choose to be vegan for health reasons, as well as the aforementioned ones, remember that you’re in the very privileged position of having the luxury of not eating certain foods because you don’t feel like it, and that you have an abundance of other nutritious options. Some people have to work to scrape together a few cents to buy rice so that their entire family doesn’t die. Like I said, perspective.
"Nonviolence declares that the American Indians could have fought off Columbus, George Washington, and all the other genocidal butchers with sit-ins; that Crazy Horse, by using violent resistance, became part of the cycle of violence, and as “as bad as” Custer. Nonviolence declares that Africans could have stopped the slave trade with hunger strikes and petitions, and that those who mutinied were as bad as their captors; that mutiny, a form of violence, led to more violence, and thus, resistance led to more enslavement. Nonviolence refuses to recognize that it can only work for privileged people, who have a status protected by violence, as the perpetrators and beneficiaries of a violent hierarchy."
Peter Gelderloos, Why Nonviolence Protects the State- Nonviolence is Racist. (via lazyhawk)
(Source: fuckyeahradicalquotes, via rustbeltwhiskey-deactivated2012)
I am conflicted about this issue! Although I did sign the petition against putting a Walmart in downtown Athens, I can’t deny that the presence of a Walmart does do some helping for some people sometimes. & not everyone “hates” Walmart.
I read an essay in a zine called MAKE (if I remember correctly) years ago, which really knocked me off my punk/privileged high horse. I did used to be the kind of smartass anti-capitalist who would agree with boycotting big box corporations as much as possible — JUST DON’T SHOP THERE, PEOPLE, DUH. But you wanna tell that to maybe the single mother of five who is actually able to feed and clothe her children on cheap Walmart products? I still often forget that as a punk/ex-punk/grownup-punk with radical ideals that I am living a type of poverty that is not the same as others’, and I’m living in a bubble where most people around me agree with my lofty ideals. I used to be able to avoid shopping at Walmart because I could dumpster-dive groceries, but this is still not a thing that many people are aware of or comfortable doing. So while we may see it as survival or just a fun scam for free shit, it’s still a privilege that we have the time to practice.
It’s also a privilege to even be able to support local businesses, at least in Athens. I would love it if I could get all my groceries locally from the Co-op and Farmers Market, get clothes from independent downtown boutiques or handmade/crafty fairs. But that shit is overpriced for me, and rightly so, because having worked for small businesses I know how much of a struggle it can be to stay afloat. I’m way below the poverty line, and I’m supporting another person as well. I can only afford the necessities at the cheapest possible price, which means groceries at Piggly-Wiggly and that rare “new” pair of jeans at the thriftstore.
A downtown Walmart, as “evil” as it may seem, is helpful to the working poor, especially those without cars. It may be overkill to have three Walmarts altogether, but when someone says, “there’s a Walmart 10 minutes away!” remember that this is car-speak timing. 10 minutes in a personal car does not equal walking time or public transit time. Additionally, Walmart does provide jobs to many individuals who wouldn’t otherwise be able to make an income easily (the elderly, the disabled, those with less-than-perfect employment histories etc.). While it could be sad to consider these folks having to be “relegated” to a crappy job at Walmart, for many people, A JOB IS A JOB. & it might be shitty and have discriminatory policies and poor working conditions but IT IS A JOB and many, many people don’t have the luxury of quitting a job because they “didn’t like it” or the boss was a jerk or the work wasn’t “fulfilling.” Many people will take whatever they can get if it means they can pay their rent and put food on the table.
This isn’t necessarily a pro-Walmart post, either. Like I said, I voted against it mainly because I think it would be ugly and unnecessary downtown, and I don’t want that beautiful old Jittery Joe’s building torn down. And I don’t want Walmart waste getting into the river nearby. And I’d rather see a decent grocery store downtown, if they’re going to put some big box in. And I’d rather see more funding going towards a better public transit system so that places outside the hip, downtown area are more accessible. And I’d rather see people (including myself) fighting this sort of thing in more concrete ways than signing a petition and feeling sad and angry and helpless.
This is meant as more of a privilege-check or at least recognition that protest can be a luxury activity, and having anti-capitalist or otherwise radical ideals can sometimes not really matter much at all if you don’t have a strong community that provides frequent, easily-accessible and affordable alternatives to having to financially support corporate America.
The real problem here isn’t whether or not to put a Walmart downtown, how good or bad that might be for the community overall. The problems lie deeper within this system which has conflated competitive wealth with virtue and hard poverty with vice; a system based in racism, ageism, and ableism; a system where most everyone feels like they are endlessly struggling one way or another and there’s no way out. I think it’s way more “revolutionary” for the community to provide for itself, especially utilizing alternatives to capital. We have to work with what we’re given to a certain extent — we have to respect that not everyone has access to the luxury of having a choice — but we can also work around it without having to be completely dependent on a toxic system. We can be the ones providing for ourselves in terms of organized carpools, bike shares, skill trades, free childcare, etc. And we do have things like Food Not Bombs and the Really Really Free Market, which are great, but we could make these things happen more often and more easily, too. There are so many ways we can help ourselves out as a community without having to wait around, pleading to politicians to direct this money to that thing instead of the other thing.
In any case, I’m getting sidetracked here. HELLO: I REALLY WANT TO BEGIN ORGANIZING A CHILDCARE COLLECTIVE. This seems huge and scary but totally important and necessary and I don’t know where to start. Please get in touch if you are interested?
I believe that a true revolution cannot be carried out by those who are comfortable enough with the power structures that exist. It cannot have been initiated by a privileged organization of educated people who are shielded from the worst aspects of our unjust society, who have plenty of options in life and to whom the fact of oppression is not much more than an intellectual entity. A true revolution must be carefully and gradually mobilized by those who have been most oppressed and marginalized by the current state of our government and economy, whose continued existence in this world really depends on a radical change. Otherwise, we are replicating the structures of power that continue to oppress us.
It was shocking to me to see how poorly immigrant communities and communities of color had been included in Occupy Wall Street. I guess the reasoning or justification is that, since all the dispossessed masses and people of color are covered by the “99%”, this protest is all-inclusive. But the fact is that amongst that 99% exist great inequalities of their own and extreme gradations of wealth and privilege, which are inextricably tied to race, despite the general assembly’s blatant attempt to suggest we live in a country “formerly divided by race” (Read this: http://henaashraf.com/2011/09/30/brown-power-at-occupy-wall-street/). To act as if we share one experience and one problem and therefore seek the same solution would be a terrible lie and an extremely weak and superficial grounds for collective action, especially if the voices that have begun to dominate the movement have the least to lose if the movement were to fail. It’s great to feel solidarity with one another against the people who rule over the 99%, but within the 99% are plenty of people who rule over the rest in their own way, and this makeshift solidarity can only go so far.
The fact that there is no clear demand reveals the lack of urgency on the part of those who are shaping it. It’s a movement fueled by ambiguity and theater, and it’s hard to say that this movement could survive the process of forming real demands that can significantly improve the lives of the 99%. The reality is that there are a lot of VERY urgent demands out there, which have been very carefully researched and formulated by marginalized communities, but this movement seems to have all the time in the world when it comes to deciding on what it really wants to take action for. I saw signs about college graduates not having jobs and signs protesting the lack of funding for art students, and it is great that these people are taking a stand to change a world that does not allow them to achieve their dreams even though they did everything in their power to make it happen. But while those people might be unemployed or underemployed because they can’t find a decent job in the field of their choice, on the other hand there are people cleaning toilets and being subject to all sorts of abuse, who have never had the option to pursue their dreams, and as evidenced by the turnout, don’t have the time to come perform their feelings about the injustices they live.
Today I was at the Dollar Store trying to avoid spending too much money on required art supplies for my summer classes & on impulse I grabbed a box of Crayola crayons. The 64-pack, even though I don’t really crayon anymore. I remembered how when I was little, every year we’d get our little gradeschool supply lists & mom helped to acquire the necessary items by bringing home office supplies from her job, saving & reusing our old cheap folders & binders until they tattered, hoarding looseleaf, covering our books in brown grocery-store bags.
There were five of us kids & mom worked while dad stayed home and raised us. We couldn’t afford the Trapper Keepers and Lisa Frank notebooks & erasers shaped like strawberries. We always got the cheap RoseArt crayons, the 8-packs, and I hated them. RoseArt crayons fell apart in your hands, like coloring with candlewax, while the Crayolas were sturdy and came in glorious packages of 64 invented colors, with a crayon sharpener built into the box. I probably used to throw fits — I didn’t understand that $3.25 really was too much to ask. I didn’t understand all the things my parents were doing to scrimp and save and recycle just to get by, just so we could at least show up at school with everything we needed. So buying the coveted 64-pack of Crayolas, now, as an adult, was like some weird fulfillment of a childhood desire, proving to myself that I can get what I want, even if what I want is sometimes frivolous & foolish & makes me get all self-critical & guilt-ridden.
When I started living on my own, I began to realize the value & practicality of my parents’ frugal habits. I bought my groceries at the Dollar Store and avoided the lure of shiny-packaged name brands. It was enough to be able to have food in the first place, you know? Mom sneered at name-brands; she knew it was stupid, clothes are clothes. She & my grandmother used to sew clothes for us, even winter coats, and I never appreciated that. Before my school enforced a uniform dress code, I wore handmade dresses to class every day, and in the winter I had exquisite coats with matching hats. Grandma even embroidered tags for them: “Made by Eloise,” or maybe they even said “Made with Love by Eloise.” I couldn’t appreciate this because I wanted a shiny, swishy Starter jacket like the other kids; I wanted the big box of Crayolas and a new trendy lunchbox each year. I didn’t know that we were relatively poor. I didn’t know that credit cards had to be paid off — I thought it was an infinite supply of “plastic money,” and that maybe my parents weren’t giving me what I wanted because they were mean. I didn’t know how to articulate this sense of guilt at not having what everyone else had — I only knew that the kids were making fun of me because I wasn’t “cool.”
I still struggle with layers of guilt: poverty-guilt as well as consumer-guilt. Every time I have to purchase something, I think about the waste: the waste of packaging materials, the fact that it’s cheaper to buy a new roll of packing tape with a plastic dispenser than just buying the replacement tape and recycling the old dispenser, the problem of buying readymade soups & dinners & snacks because I don’t often have time to cook even though it would be cheaper to just buckle down on meal-planning and make everything from scratch. I think about how my dollars are supporting terrible working conditions for other people, monopolizing corporations, environmental destruction, and so much plastic. I feel guilty when I make large purchases (such as when I bought my laptop with a school grant or my iPod with a tax return) that aren’t essential but have become necessary for navigating this life. I feel guilty for participating in a disposable culture when I buy new tennis shoes and I know that it’s okay to buy shoes because they wear down day after day but I wish I could make something that lasted longer. I feel guilty for purchasing something because I can, because I get a paycheck and I sometimes have the privilege of participating in consumption even though I idealistically believe that I’d rather be growing my own food & sewing my own clothes & avoiding glowing screens.
Sometimes I feel guilty for having “extravagant” phases, like when my school loan refund comes in and suddenly my bank balance goes from (-26.34) to $2,700 & I feel comfortable, secure. I know the money won’t last & I have to be careful not to let it burn a hole in my pocket because I still have been trained to feel the temptation to shop. But I have to set most of the money aside so that I can make rent for the next few months because being in school and getting “free money” (even though I have to pay it back) is the only thing keeping my head above water. I pretend to be successful and maybe I’ll get a tattoo as a sort of reward for slogging through the shit for so long. I like to take people out to dinner, just to defend myself, I think. Just to show that, hey, I’m not always begging & struggling & complaining, I can give back, too. I can do favors, I can participate in the community. & then I feel guilty that all of these feelings get reduced to monetary transactions, that I translate “friendship” and “helping” into being able to pick up the check and say, “don’t worry about it, I got it,” as if that’s the only way to prove my worth, as if I’m only valid because I work 42+ hours/week at shit jobs to scrape by and then occasionally can pretend like it’s No Big Deal because don’t we all deserve to have nice things? Isn’t it okay to sample the finer things, the expensive cheeses, the new-used picture books, just every once in a while can we pretend like we deserve it and don’t have to pay for it with our aching backs and carpal tunnels and existential crises and headaches and wrinkles and prominent veins in hands & feet?
It all gets very convoluted. Sure, I can think very critically about consumer culture. I can pull apart & ridicule the advertisements which attempt to convince us that freedom is a new car, love is a diamond ring, living on the edge is a bag of potato chips, success is a particular brand of tennis shoe. I know that it’s foolish to think that we can truly express ourselves by buying the right set of flatware from Target or even the right kind of veggieburgers from the Whole Foods. But consumerism nonetheless pokes and prods and irritates at our very basic human desires to belong, to be a part of a community, to be loved and accepted. I have to admit that I felt a kind of relief when I finally bought an iPod and I was no longer the only person in class who couldn’t bring in music to play in the studios because the school only supplied iPod players, not stereos with CD & cassette players. Probably no one else noticed at all, but I felt convinced that my lack of participating in the classroom music rotation just screamed POVERTY. I care about that sort of thing, and I don’t want to admit that I care — I want to be strong enough to not be affected by that real or imagined judgment but sometimes, actually, I would rather just quietly blend in.
But I have a certain privilege, in a way. I remember mom was always scolding us not to act “low-class.” To her, this meant that we should have good manners and speak proper English (in Pittsburgh, with our thick working-class dialect, that meant not using such slang as “yinz,” even though mom uses other Pittsburghese terms such as “jag-off” and pronounces “wash” like “worsh”). It was kind of like… we were living in this “poor white trash” neighborhood but she knew that it was important to be able to pass as at least lower-middle-class. I don’t think that she looked down on the impoverished, just that she knew that you had to play the part in order to get anywhere, in order to get accepted. So it’s weird now, for me, because I know how to behave, a little bit.
I remember how sometimes mom would take us shopping — really, take us just to look at the stores of Nice Things we couldn’t afford, the glasswares and china, or browsing antique shops and never buying anything — before we entered a store, she would tell us to fold our hands and don’t touch anything. And I know that’s how to behave when I visit a house with freshly-vacuumed carpet and painted walls sans holes or stains and not a cockroach in sight. And I have the one modest professional outfit for going to job interviews or funerals or weddings. I know how to behave, but then I don’t know what to say when someone is telling me that they just spent a couple thousand to have their kitchen redone and in the back of my mind, always, I’m worrying I won’t make rent this month. How do I participate in that kind of conversation when all I can think about is the huge gap between lifestyles?
I don’t know, is this still privilege? Knowing how to pass? Being a white girl who has managed to get a formal education thanks to financial aid? Having the luxury to read & think critically about consumption & class issues? Being permitted to work? — Because it does almost feel like a luxury, when so many, including my lover, are unemployed, I feel lucky to have paychecks coming in so that we can have food & shelter & electricity & watch movies on Netflix. But I’m angry for thinking that’s lucky because I think everyone deserves those basic necessities (okay maybe Netflix isn’t a necessity) without question, without expectation, without having to break their backs, regardless of what they can provide or produce for society. Is it not enough to be alive?
I feel a sense of privilege because of the ways I’ve been able to navigate this shit, the way I’ve been able to “just play the game.” I wish I could offer more — more than just free coffee after closing time, more than just zines and cheaply-sold artwork, more than the dollars & cigarettes to the men & women with the cardboard signs downtown, more than a couch or floor to sleep on, more than a listening ear… or, on the other hand, maybe we are doing what we can when we can, and we get confused because some of those goods & services don’t come with dollar signs attached and we are unsure of how to calculate its true value.
