Q:Thank you so much! My best friend and I just got approved to start our own FSU at our high school!
No problem :) And congratulations! I hope it goes well and you do some rad stuff!
Q:I want to start a FSU at my high school, how should I start it?
Hey! Good question! Well, first of all, I don’t know what your school’s policies are around clubs and stuff, but it can help a lot (especially within a high school environment) to get a faculty member on your side. If there’s a teacher, coach, counselor or any other kind of faculty/staff person who wants to help you or act as your club advisor, you should definitely approach them. A good faculty ally can help you navigate the inevitable bureaucracy and act as a liaison between you and the school administration. At the very least, they should be able to lend some emotional support and encouragement.
The other part of the equation is just gather a core group of students who are really passionate about starting a FSU and are willing to see it through. It doesn’t have to be a lot, it can just be you and some of your friends. But it should be people you really trust and who share your vision, and agree with you on most core issues. (But remember that it’s always good to include people who don’t share your exact background or perspective, because you can learn a lot from them!)
If you have a faculty ally, trusted comrades, and institutional support, you’re pretty much good to go; after that, it’s up to you however you want to organize things, run things, etc. But even in the absence of a faculty ally and official school permission (sometimes schools can be weird about ~feminist~ stuff, especially if you’re talking openly about sexual health and LGBTQ rights), you can still do it! Just gather some folks and start holding meetings. Talk about whatever you want, plan actions, put up posters, hold sit-ins, write letters, figure out how you can get a bunch of free condoms and hand ‘em out…. do whatever you want! Seriously! Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, and all that.
I actually was the leader of a FSU-type group in my high school (it was mostly organizing around reproductive health/justice type stuff though). We were officially acknowledged by the school but that’s about as far as our institutional power went. We were able to give out condoms and hold sex ed talks, but we didn’t like, make super radical changes. But it was still worth it because we talked to each other, and educated each other, and had each other’s backs. I would get frustrated sometimes because I’d be like “we only have 8 people in our club, no one cares” but our faculty advisor told me something very wise: Even if it’s just you and one other person, it’s something. It’s worth it. Because you and that one other person, or three or ten other people, can bring that knowledge and energy and passion to all the other people in your lives. It spreads out. It goes somewhere.
I hope that helps a little bit. There are definitely going to be haters. There will probably be a lot of haters, in fact. But fuck ‘em. You matter. You’re powerful. Fuck shit up.
And please write back if you have any more questions. <3
“We’re all the same inside” minimizes the oppression LGBTQ people have faced and continue to face because of cisheterosexist society insisting that everyone ought to be “the same.” Many LGBTQ people have faced abusive reparative therapy at the hands of people who want everyone to be “the same.” It also others those LGBTQ folks who are aren’t content with assimilation—who want more than just the right to marry and be seen as “normal.”
I want my differences as a queer person to be liberated and affirmed, not erased. Not dismissed with “We are all the same inside.”
The main thing I want to talk about in this post, though, is my experience as former employee of Burger King, and how it shapes my reactions to hearing about the Proud Whopper. Burger King may be using the Proud Whopper to exploit the LGBTQ movement in order to make a buck or two, but this is nothing new for them. In fact, Burger King has been exploiting LGBTQ bodies for years.
You see, one place where we are definitely not “all the same” is inside of our wallets. LGBTQ people (especially if they are trans women and/or people of color) are disproportionately affected by poverty because of the various, overlapping oppressions they face.
How much do you think Burger King pays the queer people who work for them?
I’ll tell you how much I got paid when I worked there: $7.25 per hour. Minimum wage laws vary from state to state, but I can tell you that most Burger Kings are paying their workers as little as legally possible.
I’ll also tell you this—unless a Burger King is in a state where the law states otherwise, they can legally pay employees under the age of 20 what is called a “federal training wage.” This can be as low as $4.25. Though I personally do not know anyone who was getting paid that little, I did have an 18 year old coworker, working to care for her family, who was making only $7.00.
That’s even less than the federal minimum wage. Minimum wage is abysmal enough, and some Burger Kings won’t even pay their employees that.
Do you know how many teenage LGBTQ people are homeless because of rejection or abuse from their families? And here Burger King is paying some of these kids less than minimum wage, and still trying to convince us they care about LGBTQ communities.
What will the Proud Whopper do for Burger King’s LGBTQ employees? Will it help the gay couple who met while working in the kitchen together afford their wedding? What will it do for the queer college student who can’t come out of the closet because hir parents—who help hir with the school bill that ze can’t afford on only her BK salary—would cut hir off? How about the trans woman who works front counter? Will she be able to afford hormones now, even though Burger King won’t give her enough hours to qualify for health insurance?
If Burger King really cared about LGBTQ communities, if they really wanted to make a difference in the lives of LGBTQ people, they would pay their employees a livable wage.
They would pay the people who wrap their sandwiches in rainbows, sweep rainbows off the floor, unclog the rainbows that some jokester tried to flush down the toilet.
The people who stand for 8 hours straight or more, sometimes with no break, because rainbow Whoppers need to be made.
The people who have to run to the back of the store and strain their back to retrieve a new box of rainbows when they run out up front.
The people who get yelled and cursed at and called “faggot” or other slurs when rainbows don’t get to customers in time.
Until those employees are making a livable wage, I don’t think I can see The Proud Whopper as anything more than an attempt for Burger King to exploit LGBTQ people even more than they already do.
Keep your rainbows, Burger King. I don’t trust you with my liberation.
Indigenous Feminism Without Apology
by Andrea Smith
We often hear the mantra in indigenous communities that Native women aren’t feminists. Supposedly, feminism is not needed because Native women were treated with respect prior to colonization. Thus, any Native woman who calls herself a feminist is often condemned as being “white.”
However, when I started interviewing Native women organizers as part of a research project, I was surprised by how many community-based activists were describing themselves as “feminists without apology.” They were arguing that feminism is actually an indigenous concept that has been co-opted by white women.
The fact that Native societies were egalitarian 500 years ago is not stopping women from being hit or abused now. For instance, in my years of anti-violence organizing, I would hear, “We can’t worry about domestic violence; we must worry about survival issues first.” But since Native women are the women most likely to be killed by domestic violence, they are clearly not surviving. So when we talk about survival of our nations, who are we including?
These Native feminists are challenging not only patriarchy within Native communities, but also white supremacy and colonialism within mainstream white feminism. That is, they’re challenging why it is that white women get to define what feminism is.
DECENTERING WHITE FEMINISM
The feminist movement is generally periodized into the so-called first, second and third waves of feminism. In the United States, the first wave is characterized by the suffragette movement; the second wave is characterized by the formation of the National Organization for Women, abortion rights politics, and the fight for the Equal Rights Amendments. Suddenly, during the third wave of feminism, women of colour make an appearance to transform feminism into a multicultural movement.
This periodization situates white middle-class women as the central historical agents to which women of colour attach themselves. However, if we were to recognize the agency of indigenous women in an account of feminist history, we might begin with 1492 when Native women collectively resisted colonization. This would allow us to see that there are multiple feminist histories emerging from multiple communities of colour which intersect at points and diverge in others. This would not negate the contributions made by white feminists, but would de-center them from our historicizing and analysis.
Indigenous feminism thus centers anti-colonial practice within its organizing. This is critical today when you have mainstream feminist groups supporting, for example, the US bombing of Afghanistan with the claim that this bombing will free women from the Taliban (apparently bombing women somehow liberates them).
CHALLENGING THE STATE
Indigenous feminists are also challenging how we conceptualize indigenous sovereignty - it is not an add-on to the heteronormative and patriarchal nationstate. Rather it challenges the nationstate system itself. Charles Colson, prominent Christian Right activist and founder of Prison Fellowship, explains quite clearly the relationship between heteronormativity and the nation-state. In his view, samesex marriage leads directly to terrorism; the attack on the “natural moral order” of the heterosexual family “is like handing moral weapons of mass destruction to those who use America’s decadence to recruit more snipers and hijackers and suicide bombers.”
Similarly, the Christian Right World magazine opined that feminism contributed to the Abu Ghraib scandal by promoting women in the military. When women do not know their assigned role in the gender hierarchy, they become disoriented and abuse prisoners.
Implicit in this is analysis the understanding that heteropatriarchy is essential for the building of US empire. Patriarchy is the logic that naturalizes social hierarchy. Just as men are supposed to naturally dominate women on the basis of biology, so too should the social elites of a society naturally rule everyone else through a nation-state form of governance that is constructed through domination, violence, and control.
As Ann Burlein argues in Lift High the Cross, it may be a mistake to argue that the goal of Christian Right politics is to create a theocracy in the US. Rather, Christian Right politics work through the private family (which is coded as white, patriarchal, and middle-class) to create a “Christian America.” She notes that the investment in the private family makes it difficult for people to invest in more public forms of social connection.
For example, more investment in the suburban private family means less funding for urban areas and Native reservations. The resulting social decay is then construed to be caused by deviance from the Christian family ideal rather than political and economic forces. As former head of the Christian Coalition Ralph Reed states: “The only true solution to crime is to restore the family,” and “Family break-up causes poverty.”
Unfortunately, as Navajo feminist scholar Jennifer Denetdale points out, the Native response to a heteronormative white, Christian America has often been an equally heteronormative Native nationalism. In her critique of the Navajo tribal council’s passage of a ban on same-sex marriage, Denetdale argues that Native nations are furthering a Christian Right agenda in the name of “Indian tradition.”
This trend is equally apparent within racial justice struggles in other communities of colour. As Cathy Cohen contends, heteronormative sovereignty or racial justice struggles will effectively maintain rather than challenge colonialism and white supremacy because they are premised on a politics of secondary marginalization. The most elite class will further their aspirations on the backs of those most marginalized within the community.
Through this process of secondary marginalization, the national or racial justice struggle either implicitly or explicitly takes on a nation-state model as the end point of its struggle - a model in which the elites govern the rest through violence and domination, and exclude those who are not members of “the nation.”
Grassroots Native women, along with Native scholars such as Taiaiake Alfred and Craig Womack, are developing other models of nationhood. These articulations counter the frequent accusations that nation-building projects necessarily lead to a narrow identity politics based on ethnic cleansing and intolerance. This requires that a clear distinction be drawn between the project of national liberation, and that of nation-state building.
Progressive activists and scholars, while prepared to make critiques of the US and Canadian governments, are often not prepared to question their legitimacy. A case in point is the strategy of many racial justice organizations in the US or Canada, who have rallied against the increase in hate crimes since 9/11 under the banner, “We’re American [or Canadian] too.”
This allegiance to “America” or “Canada” legitimizes the genocide and colonization of Native peoples upon which these nation-states are founded. By making anti-colonial struggle central to feminist politics, Native women place in question the appropriate form of governance for the world in general. In questioning the nation-state, we can begin to imagine a world that we would actually want to live in. Such a political project is particularly important for colonized peoples seeking national liberation outside the nation-state.
Whereas nation-states are governed through domination and coercion, indigenous sovereignty and nationhood is predicated on interrelatedness and responsibility.
As Sharon Venne explains, “Our spirituality and our responsibilities define our duties. We understand the concept of sovereignty as woven through a fabric that encompasses our spirituality and responsibility. This is a cyclical view of sovereignty, incorporating it into our traditional philosophy and view of our responsibilities. It differs greatly from the concept of Western sovereignty which is based upon absolute power. For us absolute power is in the Creator and the natural order of all living things; not only in human beings… Our sovereignty is related to our connections to the earth and is inherent.”
A Native feminist politics seeks to do more than simply elevate Native women’s status - it seeks to transform the world through indigenous forms of governance that can be beneficial to everyone.
At the 2005 World Liberation Theology Forum held in Porto Alegre, Brazil, indigenous peoples from Bolivia stated that they know another world is possible because they see that world whenever they do their ceremonies. Native ceremonies can be a place where the present, past and future become copresent. This is what Native Hawaiian scholar Manu Meyer calls a racial remembering of the future.
Prior to colonization, Native communities were not structured on the basis of hierarchy, oppression or patriarchy. We will not recreate these communities as they existed prior to colonization. Our understanding that a society without structures of oppression was possible in the past tells us that our current political and economic system is anything but natural and inevitable. If we lived differently before, we can live differently in the future.
Native feminism is not simply an insular or exclusivist “identity politics” as it is often accused of being. Rather, it is framework that understands indigenous women’s struggle as part of a global movement for liberation. As one activist stated: “You can’t win a revolution on your own. And we are about nothing short of a revolution. Anything else is simply not worth our time.”
Andrea Smith is Cherokee and a professor of Native American Studies at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and co-founder of Incite! Women of Color Against Violence and the Boarding School Healing Project.
Rest in Peace and Power Yuri Kochiyama (May 19, 1921 - June 1, 2014)!!!! She was a Compassionate and yet, Fierce Freedom Fighter and Warrior for, for decades, Peace and Justice throughout the world.
Don’t let this go by your dash without understanding just how real this woman was.
She was a civil rights activist who not only fought for the rights of Asian Americans, but African Americans, Hispanics and Native Americans.
She was friends with Malcolm X, even holding his head after he was shot on that fateful day in 1965.
Years after being held in an internment camp during WWII, she championed the cause for the U.S. government’s formal apology and reparations to Japanese American internees.
She was an exceptional WoC that should be taught about in schools so that her legacy may continue to live on and inspire other girls and WoC.
First Mandela, then maya now her….
all the elders are returning to glory
Happy Mother’s Day to our Sisters behind bars, gone but not forgotten…