Three Cups of Deceit (30 DPC Day 23)

Day 23: Main Mode of Communication

While brainstorming a way to depict my main mode of communication as talking without going Rocky Horror on you and posting a picture of my mouth, I learned about a gross deceit on the part of a humanitarian activist whom I once admired. Before I elaborate on that point, however, my main mode of communication is depicted in the image below:

If you’ve read this blog post you now know Brenna quite well (at least, virtually well from my perspective). This was a little party I planned for her birthday where we all went out for a meal and had a lovely time communing with one another!

And it occurred to me, while racking my brain for a deep and provocative and blog-appropriate way to display my main way of sharing my thoughts with the world how much communicating occurs over a meal. One of the big things I had to adjust to coming to college was constantly figuring out meal plans with other people. Not that I’m opposed to eating by myself, but having a meal together is something my family really prized when I was living in NC and that is a value I carried with me to school.

When you’re eating together you’re nurturing your bodies and your soul. Every human being needs sustenance, and sustenance comes in many forms. But because of the necessity of eating to survive it is not an activity to be taken casually, but dually because of the instinctual need we as human beings have to eat meals are a common ritual. Therefore, food can say much about a person; where they come from, what they like and do not like, how they were raised. Sharing this need with other people is a form of what we sociologists (eee!) like to call “solidarity.” While I am not, per se, using that term in its purest or most direct sense, I contend that it is often in sharing what is vital to all of us that we bond on an intimate, perhaps even biological level.

And in more practical, concrete terms having a meal together is a ritual that 1. provides continuity in a crazy schedule/life and 2. is really quite enjoyable. My meal times are hours during the day that I simply sit and get to enjoy being with my beautiful friends on my beautiful campus in this beautiful life I have been given.

Sharing meals with my friends has wrought deeper friendships. While often the dining hall is not the place to share profound wishes or secrets (or whatever) many of the more memorable moments in my first year of college have occurred over a meal.

And coming to the more concrete, planning times and places to meet for these meals requires my other big form of communication: my cell phone.

And perhaps a little obviously, how I communicate with you, my computer:

Fun fact: Grace took this while I was actually writing a blog post!

Now, to what I decreed I was going to elaborate on earlier. In an odd twist of events my depiction of my main mode of communication is akin to what Greg Mortensen claimed to be the act that solidified his friendship with the people of Central Asia.

Which brings me to a (be warned, colorful language) rant: The Three Cups of Deceit.

As you may or may not know, a man by the name of Greg Mortensen wrote a book called Three Cups of Tea about being rescued by villagers in the Himalayan mountains. From this experience he claimed to forge an intense connection to the women of the village (through sharing cups of tea) and wanted to raise funds to build schools in Central Asia.

Turns out he’s full of shit. Pardon my English, but I am pissed off.

I have never read the book itself, though two extended family members sent me copies to read. Just never got to it, but knowing what I did about Greg Mortensen I was a full endorser of his Central Asia Institute (CAI) to build schools for girls in Central Asia.

Until one of my favorite contemporary journalists/authors, Jon Krakaur, did a 60 Minutes exposé revealing how many funds had gone missing, that most of the book itself is a complete fabrication, the existence of “ghost” schools, and the fact that key members of the CAI (two CFOs, 1 project leader, 1 board member all in the states and multiple more in Pakistan) quit because of Greg’s refusal to be transparent with the funds.

On so many levels, this is so hurtful. A powerful story about a daredevil mountain climber (whose parents were Lutheran missionaries in Africa) building a partnership with communities halfway around the world, empowered especially because he wanted to help the young girls, is totally invalidated by his selfish aims.  To me, any good he accomplished with his sob story is tainted by the deceit and self-gratifying false humbleness he painted himself with.  

Excuse me, but what an ASSHOLE. I am so angry because he played on sympathy by painting himself as this incredible humanitarian who, through basic human connection, forged these amazing relationships with people and then began an organization to promote understanding and education for young women. President Obama  himself donated $100,000 of his Nobel Prize money to Greg Mortensen, who himself has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

As Krakaur details in his 79-page exposé (which you can download for free until tomorrow here):

“The first eight chapters of Three Cups of Tea are an intricately wrought work of fiction presented as fact. And by no means was this an isolated act of deceit. It turns out that Mortenson’s books and public statements are permeated with falsehoods. The image of Mortenson that has been created for public consumption is an artifact born of fantasy, audacity, and an apparently insatiable hunger for esteem. Mortenson has lied about the noble deeds he has done, the risks he has taken, the people he has met, the number of schools he has built. Three Cups of Tea has much in common with A Million Little Pieces, the infamous autobiography by James Frey that was exposed as a sham. But Frey, unlike Mortenson, didn’t use his phony memoir to solicit tens of millions of dollars in donations from unsuspecting readers, myself among them. Moreover, Mortenson’s charity, the Central Asia Institute, has issued fraudulent financial statements, and he has misused millions of dollars donated by schoolchildren and other trusting devotees. “Greg,” says a former treasurer of the organization’s board of directors, “regards CAI as his personal ATM.”’ (7)

  This is atrocious. He even went so far as to accuse men who acted as his personal bodyguards and friends of kidnapping and holding him hostage. Krakaur reveals to be an intense fabrication of an already fictional account.

“When the residents of Ladha bid goodbye to Mortenson, they did so with affection, and they believed the feeling was mutual. “Years later,” says Naimat Gul [a man whom Mortensen accused of kidnapping him], “when I scanned through the book T hree Cups Of Tea and read that Greg had been abducted and threatened with guns, I was shocked. Instead of telling the world about our frustration, deprivation, illiteracy, and tradition of hospitality, he invented a false story about being abducted by savages. I do not understand why he did this.”’ (19)

I highly encourage you to read Krakaur’s work on the subject. And as for now, I am at a loss as to what to express other than anger. Yes, some good came from this. But I have a hard time validating anything Mortensen has touched now.

It is people like him who are a) causing us all to be wary of any form of charity/nonprofit work and b) forcing me to question whether it’s even worth it to keep forging ahead. Of course I’m going to keep fighting for human rights universally, but this is just so disheartening.

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days until departure: 42

30 DPC: Day 22

The story of why I was awake long past the witching hour for NYC is a tale to be told later, because I have work to do. But for now:

Day 22: A Photo of the Roads I Walk on Daily

This post prompt will, undoubtably, make more sense once I am in Uganda. But for now I appreciate my smoothly paved roads for walking and biking pleasure. Thanks to Brenna for the prompt suggestion!

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current jam: nothing but the ticking of my watch telling me i have a hundred pages to read before tomorrow morning

best thing in my life right now: eight new postcards to add to the collection (the tension for a nyc post builds!)

days until departure: 43

These Hands (30 DPC: Day 21)

*A note: I am posting this, in fact, on Saturday night. So technically, it's not the subsequent day from my last post. My reason for this is thus: at the lovely hour of 3 AM tonight (or tomorrow, if we must be political) I will awake and drive to Amherst in order to catch a 4 AM bus to NYC. The full tale of this adventure will, undoubtably, be told to you in some virtual form on Monday. Enjoy for now! 

Day 21: A Photograph of My Hands

In one of the first workshops I attended on my first day of orientation at college we were prompted with a surprisingly difficult activity. We were meant to take three things that we were either wearing or physical traits thought to represent how we defined ourselves. 

One of the things I chose were my rings. I love them each so much and all have a story, but the one I'm going to tell you about today are my three favorites: the elephant ring, my spoon ring, and my owl ring.

Most people infer that because I have a silver ring with two elephants kissing each other than, by the very nature of them being elephants, I must have bought the ring in Africa. This is actually not true; I bought this ring in Hawai'i a few summers ago for something like seven bucks. It's my favorite ring because it does remind me of Uganda, stereotypical as that may be. And besides, it's plain adorable. 

The second ring, my spoon ring, I bought in Charleston two summers ago while on vacation with my family. It's an antique from 1945 and the design is called "Queen Bee." I love that it's Southern, my other home, and that it is from one of my favorite years to study in American history. 

And finally, the third ring, is my owl ring, which I bought in a little shop in my hometown that sells jewelry and other odds and ends. I love owls because they remind me of my mom and I love this ring because it reminds me of my hometown. 

But the rings are not the reason for me busting out the webcam and prompting myself with a post surrounding my hands. The real reason I wanted to take a picture of my blue-nailpolished-hands here and then in Uganda was because of an incredibly profound story I heard when I first went to Gulu. 

We, the pilgrims on the trip, had a morning visit with the Archbishop Odama, an incredibly wise and kind man whom I liked very much. He told us how he saw the world in metaphor by his own hands. Each hand, he said, represented the two hemispheres. On the inside there was white, and the outside, black. The five fingers were for five continents of people: Africa, the Americas, Europe, Asia, and Australia. When interlaced, they made the world. 

My friend, Father Peter, and I are making the world together in this photograph taken in Attiak in 2007: 

I don't feel there is any further explanation necessary. After all, pictures are worth more than words can say. 

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current jam: "yeah yeah yeah song" flaming lips

best thing in my life right now: my dad's 1989 copenhagen business school sweatshirt, captured in the image above.

days until departure: 45

Is Not that Strange? (30 DPC: Day 20)

"I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange?" -William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, Act 4 Scene 1

Day 20: a photograph of your most prized possession

Before I begin to delve into the story of today's photographs (and it is a lovely story, if I may say so myself) I want to take moment to thank you, dear reader. As of two days ago I officially reached over a thousand page views. That is insane- thank you all so very very much for thinking my musings here to be worthy of your time in what surely are your very busy lives! 

Alright, enough freaking out. To the story.

Today's pictures are of my most treasured gift and possession; my director's chair. 

As aforementioned in this blog post, in high school I ran a theatre company for two years with some incredibly talented people. My proudest accomplishment with this company (and in theatre in general, really) was directing William Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. I am quite the Shakespeare geek- have been since I was twelve and in A Comedy of Errors. Directing was something I had always wanted to do and in the fall of my junior year I made this dream a reality. 

 

It was the biggest project I have ever undertaken and it was essentially my life for three months. But they were some of the best three months of my life- and some of the hardest. Learning what it means to be a good leader meant making huge personal sacrifices in my own life for the sake of the best show possible. I poured everything I had into that show- my time, my tears, my effort, and my creative energy. When we had three sold out shows and, more important to me, a cast incredibly cemented together and with amazing focus, I knew all those months had absolutely paid off. 

The whole cast after giving me the chair! :)

Why is why when, at the curtain call of the final show my cast called me forward to present me with two bouquets of sunflowers and a director's chair, I stood in front of a sold out theatre crying like a blubbering fool, immensely humbled and awed and so proud.

The whole cast signed the chair, and Justine (who played Margaret) embroidered my name and did the incredible sunflower detail. Sunflowers, my absolute favorite kind of flowers, had littered the stage and set because we'd set the story in an Italian garden. The = ♥ is a reference to something I used to use when taking notes during rehearsals/full runs. When a cast member delivered a line a certain way or did something with their character that I really liked I would scribble an equals sign with heart to remind myself to praise their good work during notes. It became something of a badge of honor in the cast. Months later when I sat in on a rehearsal taking notes for another production I doled out a few equals hearts and a member of that show yelped with glee, declaring that to be a "huge compliment!" Really, it was just Lizzie shorthand, but it was so sweet that it kind of caught on.

Covering the arms and legs of the chair (though perhaps fading now) are quotes from the show, lines from our favorite warm-up games, and thank you notes. I love this chair. It is seriously the most thoughtful and kind gift I have ever received. Sitting in it always reminds me that we are all capable and that, while theatre is not as much of a priority in my life anymore, it once was something that dually gave me great joy and made me grow into being a better leader. 

And, because I want to and because I think you'll have a little kick out of it, here are some of my favorite photographs from the show: 

 

During the final dress rehearsal the cast played a prank on my by all coming out in each other's costumes for the final scene. It was HILARIOUS and the fact that they did the whole scene without even so much as a blink in the direction of their outrageous attire told me they were ready for opening night. 

Alright, dear reader. Thank you for your kind support and a special thank you to all of you who participated in Day of Silence yesterday!

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current jam: "moskau" dschingius khan (it. is. so. catchy.)

best thing in my life right now: WAFFLE CARNIVAL (foryougracie)

days until departure: 46

Invisible to Our Eyes (30 DPC: Day 19)

"And now here is my secret, it is a very simple secret: it is only with the heart one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to our eyes." -Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Le Petit Prince

Today is April 15, 2011. Today is Day of Silence, recognized nationally as a day in which thousands of LGBTQ youth and their allies have taken a 24 hour vow of silence to take a visceral and subversive stand against injustice faced by the queer community. For 24 hours people who not only believe in equality, but are demanding rights for everyone NOW, are not speaking.

But they sure are using the power of their voices. 

I absolutely believe that every human being, regardless of how they define their sexual orientation within the spectrum that exists within all of us, has the right to marry the person they love. I affirm that this equality is achievable in my own lifetime. Every day I awake grateful for my voice in the world, no matter how small or cracked it may be, I have the power and capacity to use my voice. Not everyone gets to exercise this right and it is important for me to remember this.

A photograph from DOS last year!

Unfortunately I could not participate in DOS this year because of some prior obligations that require me to speak today. But believe me, friends, I am participating in spirit and this is the first time in four years I have not partaken, in some capacity, of this movement.

Since I could not participate fully, I wanted today's photography challenge to reflect something of importance to me very deeply. I also wanted to select photographs of something I though reflective of the message of Day of Silence: solidarity in the face of adversity regardless of how you define yourself. 

So I want to talk about the beautiful people I see everyday in my life. People who I stand with no matter the odds. I wish I could include everyone, and I by no means want to make this an exclusive list. But these are the women who inspire me every day to be the best woman I can be. I would do so much more than remain silent for these people, they make me so brave and I am so blessed to see them every day here on my college campus! Therefore, I present:

Day 19: Photos of My Family Away from my Family

(in no particular order)

Austin 

My darling roommate (as well as my dearest Allison) who, despite not being a fan of dinosaurs or Harry Potter, has lovingly put up with my obsessions and quirky habits. in fact, she is the one responsible for procuring the 6 foot tall cardboard Alan Rickman poster that now greets me when I awake in the mornings (if you're unfamiliar, there's a vlog for that). She is so funny and absolutely genuine with herself and the world. I love that about her so much; she is no one but herself and therefore is one of the most grounded and real people I know. And even beyond her absolute perfect roommate-ness and outstanding intelligence, she happens to be one killer awesome rugby player. Seriously, she's incredible on the field! Thank goodness Res Life put us together! 

Brenna

Despite being terrified by my exuberant clothing and French-speaking upon our first meeting, Brenna and I somehow ended up having lunch together (a little reluctantly). We remained timid friends until we survived a crazy night together and we realized that we were going to be the best of friends for a long, long time! When I think of how we came to be friends, I'm always reminded of the quote in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone after Hermione and the boys defeat the giant troll. Jo Rowling so brilliantly scribed, "There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them." Like Harry and Hermione (forgive the silly metaphor even though if you know us it's PERFECT), Brenna and I are so tight. She's so level-headed, insightful, intelligent, passionate, wise, and warm. We can literally talk for hours about everything from educational policy to Shakespeare to speculating on possible Glee subplots. I am so, so grateful I have beautiful Brenna in my life! (As she would say, you're stuck with me :). 

Candy 

I honestly don't even know where to begin with how much I adore Candy. Talk about a savvy, wise, witty, and bright young woman- Candy is the real deal. She's a crocheting fiend, a language enthusiast and genius, and a newspaper editor extraordinaire. I always feel so reaffirmed and joyful around this incredible woman, whether we're comparing famous art historians, giggling over Jane Austen novels, or talking about the problems in our government's immigration policy. What I love so much about Candy is how we can spend time together in so many capacities, from our trip to the Met in NYC to being social to having serious discussions about the future of the USA. Seriously, if this girl runs for president, ya'll would be doing yourself a favor in voting for her!

Grace

I met Grace on the first day of college and knew almost immediately I wanted to befriend her. Grace is such a presence in my life; her spirit and sweetness and happiness exudes into everything and everyone she is around. If you don't believe me, she's going to be on my radio show tomorrow from 10 am - 12 pm EST talking about her adoration for pandas, photography, educating your future children, being Woods Holier than thou, and generally having incredible taste in music! She's such a snugglebug and a fellow Torchwood fan (so when I book it out of M&Cs to finish an episode, she vouches for my partial sanity). Her creativity and kindness is such a treat to be around. I adore spending time with this wonderful, wonderful friend and look forward to so many more years of being together!

Hattie

By now, if you follow my musings here or on youtube with any regularity, you've heard all about this marvelous woman Hattie. Just as Brenna is my Hermione, Hattie is my Ron. She and I literally became friends in French last semester when she noticed I was wearing my (signed!) Parselmouths t-shirt. The fact that she loved the Boy Who Lived as much as I did already secured her a place locked into my heart, but the fact that she happens to be one of the most driven and deep friends I've ever had the joy of knowing cemented us for good. She and I goggle over Darren Criss together, she holds my hand when I cry at EVERY GLEE EPISODE EVER. Seriously, Hattie, prepare yourself for Tuesday when it's back on air. We sit together in our nonviolence religion class (which she talked me into taking, by the way!) and I am so glad to know her!

Nora

I have this gift of having two very special Nora B's in my life, and when I realized this Nora's name I knew right away I was going to like her. Equally as Potter-obsessed as I (noticing a trend?) she is such a delight to know. And but actually, she has the greatest deadpan delivery of anyone I know. But actually. Nora is so smart, capable, kind, hospitable, considerate, and one of the most selfless people I have ever met. She works so hard and as such treasures every day as a gift. Her presence in my daily life is so important to me and I am so blessed to know her! Nora genuinely can look at anyone in the world and see the best in them, a quality I marvel at. I admire her so, so much. And her dog breed knowledge puts all animal lovers to shame. 

Saran 

Another beautiful woman whom I met on the first day of orientation. I was sitting in a room with all the girls and their parents, alone, because of a confusion on my part causing my mom having to leave a day early. I was absolutely terrified when Saran's Mama D came up to me to ask me how I was liking Mount Holyoke. When she introduced me to Saran I knew I had picked the right place to go to school. Saran is such a source of love and inspiration in my life. She and I both identify as African; she by birth, I by heart, and both of us want to continue to live on that alluring and precious continent in our hearts for all our lives. I fail to articulate how special she is to me and how much I am reaffirmed with every conversation we have!

There are so many more (Allison, Liz, Cara, Hannah, Stodd, and every other incredible friend I have made on this campus). Thank you all. 

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current jam: "fascination" alphabeat (thanks hattie!)

best thing in my life right now: equality is within reach.

days until departure: 48 (I had miscounted previously!)

Having Sold My Soul to Sociology (30 DPC: Day 18)

Day 18: A Photograph of a Meal I Ate Today

   Tonight for dinner Mount Holyoke was hosting a gracious dinner* across campus, so the appetizing collection of food above is a bit of an anomaly. But I've forgotten to bring my camera to a meal since thinking of this prompt, so this is the meal that's getting recorded. It comprised of: a delicious hot dog (yes, I'm aware they are revolting), two servings of broccoli (in the back and my favorite vegetable), a kabab of veggies and I think steak, a baked potato with cheese and chives, and some kind of corn cake thing. And of course, a glass of water to drink with a cup of tea (which I forgot to snap a picture of):

  The BEST part of my meal, though, was the bowl of mozzarella cheese balls:

  I love cheese. Cheese, of any kind, if my favorite food. I would marry cheese. Have I mentioned how much I love cheese?

   Today’s prompt is relevant because I am in the process of eating my words. The words that professed I would never major in anything remotely like my parents, the words saying I was going to double major in Art History and Gender Studies.

   Because today I officially declared my major. Yesterday my friend Jenn, from my nerdfighting collab channel AllMadeofAwesome, asked in the comments if I came into college knowing I was going to major in Sociology. The simple answer is no, but as I am learning here at my lovely liberal arts institution the "truth resists simplicity" (thank you, John Green!)

  Prior to coming to college I had quite a few dreams and aspirations; when I was little I wanted to be a dolphin trainer who trained them, with my own inventions, to respond to singing. That dream persisted for a while before it turned into me wanting to be an author and an actress. The actress dream continued for some time into high school, and then as I grew up more and went to Uganda for the first time that transitioned into working dually as an NGO manager and a documentary film maker. 

  This dream then was in flux as I delved deeper into the genius film world of Baz Luhrmann while studying contemporary gender issues. My senior year in high school, I basically came to the conclusion that I had no idea what I wanted to do, but I knew somewhere in THE BIG PICTURE was Africa and human rights issues. At the time, I was also falling deeply in love with my Art History class.

   So when entering college and people wanted an answer to the ever-pertinent question, “What’s your major?” (which, if you are the perpetrator of said question, STOP IT. NONE OF US KNOW FOR SURE AND IT ONLY STRESSES US OUT WHEN YOU ASK) I replied with Gender and African studies. Really for lack of a better articulation of what I saw myself doing ten years down the road.

   But, praise God, in the Fall of 2010 I enrolled in the Intro to Sociology course taught by the woman who is now my advisor. The class was incredible; my professor was hilarious and dynamic and engaging and bloody brilliant. I attribute much of what made me fall in love with sociology to being over the moon for her.

   I adore how sociology approaches social structures and people as a collective. Everything I have ever perceived about human nature or why poverty is a system, not an individual circumstance exclusively, was manifested in my intro class. While enrolled in Sociology last semester, though, I was also in an amazing history class that explored American history from 1945 to present day. In high school I had practically taken every history course offered and as such had developed a love for 20^th century, or Modern, history. Ensue a dilemma.

   After much soul-searching this semester and, at the very last possible second, registering for and taking my Religion seminar I came to the conclusion that a sociology major was the way to go with a double minor in History and Religion. I think it will behoove me in any further academic endeavors I undertake post-graduation. In critically studying and analyzing the way social structures exist in our culture as well as foreign cultures I think I will grow as an individual, and be able to utilize the tools gleaned from these courses to be an agent of change.

   And let’s be real, I just want to be my sociology professor when I grow up.

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current jam: “it’s still rock and roll to me” billy joel which just turned into “short skirt, long jacket” cake.

best thing in my life right now: i’m writing this on the green, in the sunshine, on my ghanaian adventure blanket next to grace. what about this is not the best? 

days until departure: 51

* A gracious dinner means the food is the same in all dining halls (or a large portion of them) and usually means it's extra-good. We have had a Thanksgiving gracious dinner, a Greek/Italian gracious dinner, etc. Tonight's was an "appetizer" gracious dinner. Just one more reason to consider a women's college, ladies. The food is superb. 

On the Secular & Sacred in France (30 DPC: Day 17)

Day 17: A Picture of Something You Recently Received in the Mail

I came up with this prompt dually to show you the adorable little ducky my Mom sent with her last care package as a preemptive Easter gift and in reference to some letters I hopefully will be receiving this summer from my friends at school. Thank you mom! I love it so much, especially the enormous daisy in its hand :)

And speaking of Easter (don’t you just love vague but functional transitions?)…

In my French language lab today we were speaking about religion. Of course I had to blog about my thoughts on this class, because no religion argument goes un-blogged, apparently. As you may or may not know, in France there has within the last year been a ban on women wearing a niqab. Also called a burqa in English, this style of wearing a headscarf/veil is an emblem of faith for certain women within the Muslim faith. The French government passed a law decreeing the wearing of a burqa to be illegal and any woman wearing one must pay a fine of 150 Euros.

The law was passed with three main intentions:

1.     For “Security,” so that people (not necessarily Muslims) don’t disguise themselves under a Burqa while committing a crime.

2.     Because wearing the head-to-toe veil is seen as a violation of women’s rights and therefore the government took it upon themselves to “liberate” these women by decreeing it illegal.

3.     To promote universal public secularism.

The religious attire ban has extended beyond the Islamic tradition. French president Nicola Sarkozy has now pushed legislation through that deems any sign of a religious affiliation or faith to be illegal in state schools. This tactic is to make the burqa ban appear as if part of a larger movement towards the complete separation of church and state, but also to “unify” the citizenship of France. In the words of my language lab leader (a native Frenchwoman) “The citizen comes before all else in France under this law.”

As already evidenced, this is a complex issue that even on the surface appears to be convoluted with alternative motives. And I am incredibly frustrated by the entire premise of the law.

As you may have surmised, I am a person of faith. Not one faith, but of faith. And any act that infringes on personal liberty and inclinations to ANY religion (or lack thereof!) I perceive to be a gross injustice. These laws ideally are meant to separate church and state, a principal I think extremely important and crucial to running any nation with multiple religions represented among the population. But even John Locke, the famed Western philospher and proponent of what would become the Establishment Clause in the American Constitution said no law could be made that infringed on religious liberty.

If, by the unilateral removal of religious emblems in all schoolchildren, unity were to be achieved, it would be a sense of unity rooted in falsehood. Community is about people coming together, bringing with them all of their personal baggage (good and bad) and sticking together because of and in spite of differences. Part of your belief in the divine (in whatever manifestation) or profession that there is no such thing defines who we are in some capacity. If a true community is to be promoted, it must be one where crucial elements of ourselves are open and accepted. This doesn’t mean religion has to be in governmental policy, but it does mean that in order for a country to be run fairly for all citizens there must be recognition that all citizens have diverse faith practices and beliefs. Therefore the outlawing of wearing religious accessories and outfits is promoting a false sense of being clones, not community members.

Furthermore, the French government has stated that their intent with these laws is to ensure liberty for all women. But in the act of mandating liberty the French government is only creating a new kind of oppression. And in banning the burqa, one is assuming that all women who wear a hijab/burqa/niqab are forced to do so. This is absolutely not true.

Yes, many women all over the world are forced to be covered head to toe, either directly by the government or family or by cultural expectations. But just as many women wear the burqa (or some variation) freely out of choice and devotion to God. No, there is no dictation in the Qur’an that demands women be covered. But neither does it say in the Bible that one should wear a cross on a necklace. It’s a matter of personal preference. And in the past it’s even been a sign of solidarity and revolution; in Indonesia in the 1980s many women wore the burqa freely while their Muslim faith was being attacked. And Islam is an enormously wide-spread religion, meaning that the reasons women wear or choose not to wear burqas are as varied as the cultures from whence they come.

This law is a very bad quick-fix to an enormous issue concerning women’s rights within religion. And many women and men in France are retaliating against this law with satygraha and nonviolent protest. Backed by investors with cash to spare, these women are continuing to wear their religious garments regardless of the fines and arrests many have and are facing.

And most especially, they who are creating these laws have very little true undertanding of the Islamic faith. Furthermore, the kind of oppression and objectification women face more often on a universal scale is manifested in the expectations of being thin, great at sex, aesthetically hot, and maternal. As Martha Nussbaum[i] so eloquently explained in her article from the New York Times,

“… the more glaring flaw in the argument is that society is suffused with symbols of male supremacy that treat women as objects.  Sex magazines, nude photos, tight jeans — all of these products, arguably, treat women as objects, as do so many aspects of our media culture.  And what about the “degrading prison” of plastic surgery?  Every time I undress in the locker room of my gym, I see women bearing the scars of liposuction, tummy tucks, breast implants.  Isn’t much of this done in order to conform to a male norm of female beauty that casts women as sex objects? Proponents of the burqa ban do not propose to ban all these objectifying practices.  Indeed, they often participate in them.  And banning all such practices on a basis of equality would be an intolerable invasion of liberty.  Once again, then, the opponents of the burqa are utterly inconsistent, betraying a fear of the different that is discriminatory and unworthy of a liberal democracy.  The way to deal with sexism, in this case as in all, is by persuasion and example, not by removing liberty. [bold added]”

 So not only do these impositions from the government claim to be for liberation, they also prolong religious intolerance and are rooted in fear. The ban of the burqa is in no way an effort to combat objectifying women. It’s a lashing out against a group of people in France who represent a misunderstood minority. This fear-based law not only creates a false sense of unity, but one that instills fear of difference and uniquity among its people.

And as for the safety aspect of the law, Professor Nussbaum outlines quite articulately why demanding one’s face to be uncovered all the time is highly unpractical:

“…these arguments… are applied inconsistently.  It gets very cold in Chicago – as, indeed, in many parts of Europe.  Along the streets we walk, hats pulled down over ears and brows, scarves wound tightly around noses and mouths.  No problem of either transparency or security is thought to exist, nor are we forbidden to enter public buildings so insulated.  Moreover, many beloved and trusted professionals cover their faces all year round: surgeons, dentists, (American) football players, skiers and skaters. What inspires fear and mistrust in Europe, clearly, is not covering per se, but Muslim covering.”

And besides, the actual population of women who wear the full burqa is a minimal 2000. While the Muslim population is far greater, the entire crisis began over one law oppressing an extreme minority in the country.

These laws are completely unjustified and grounded in fear. I am infuriated by the French government's actions and think the laws should be removed, and immediately. They are not fighting for women's rights or to promote religious tolerance; in fact, in their actions they are doing quite the opposite. Under this façade no liberty can be achieved for any person of faith or atheist. 

If you are curious as to my main sources for this post (or if you would like to read more on the issue) here are some excellent materials for reading:

Noopur Tiwari's "Satygraha against burqa ban in France"

Carl Packman (of the Though Cowards Flinch blog)'s "Some Considerations of the Burqa Ban in France" 

And of course, the NY Times article by Martha Nussbaum.  

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[i] Who, I might add, is Mount Holyoke College’s commencement speaker this year. 

current jam: "pictures at an exhibition: the great gate of kiev" mussorgsky-stokowski

best thing in my life right now: wool socks

days until departure: 52