Two Female Judges

I have seen two movies in the past week that make me want to go to law school and switch careers. The first is The Judge, about Kholoud Al-Faqih, the first female judge in a court of Shari'a law in Palestine. The second is RBG, about the life and work of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. 

Both are my favorite kind of film. Documentaries, focused on one person's story, that paint a broader picture of an issue. 

Both women are pioneers. Both are steadfast in their work. Both are humble about their accomplishments. Both have experienced and are experiencing severe setbacks and opposition. The traditional Shari'a interpreters say Kholoud has not place in the court. Many Palestinian laypeople share that opinion, as is clear from interviews in Al-Manara square in Ramallah (images of which brought tears of nostalgia to my eyes!) 

Her work has been reduced by certain overseers to mere clerical work, rather than real litigation. She bears it all, clearly seeing herself as part of a long arch of history which moves towards greater justice for women in the formal courts of law. 

RBG also is part of that long arch. The patience exhibited by these women is awe-inspiring. 

One thing made me curious about RBG while watching it in a theater which, I realized upon exiting, was full of middle-aged women. There was a lot of sort of giddy laughter during the film. And not just at the moments when Gingsburg was being deliberately funny. When she walked, with her diminutive stature, and her large glasses, or her elderly woman mannerisms, there was a lot of laughter, if felt, at her. Or at least at her situation. 

I'm not sure how to describe it. People seemed to simultaneously admire her longevity, and be uncomfortable with the idea that someone this old could still be operating at a level that commands dignity and respect, not titters of laughter as if she were acting a role written for a younger person. Yes, it felt like they were laughing at her as if she were assuming someone else's persona. 

One of the best moments of the film was when she actually did do just that: put on an act. She played the speaking role in an opera, and her stage presence, her enunciation, her facial expressions, were those of a true thespian. It was brilliant to see this creative side of her. 

But otherwise, when she was being herself, I didn't like that people were giggling or openly laughing at the way she moved across the screen. I don't think any of it was deliberately rude, I just think we are uncomfortable with the combination of capability and old age that she represents, and the way we react to discomfort is often to laugh. That's certainly true for me.

There are so many ways to change our society. Attempting to change it the laws seems like a long, hard slog, but my goodness, a worthwhile one. Tess changes society in the hospital, by helping individuals change their current and future state of health. I hope that I help change society by helping some of the newest members of our society read and write English better, and better understand the issues of our world. Mom changes society by teaching care, deliberate action, teamwork and responsibility to inmates who will soon rejoin the citizenry. 

I don't think I'll end up going to law school. But the idea of spending a few years studying in a library sounds really good in the middle of a week of teaching!

Divergent - a simulation doesn't cut it

In the YA fantasy book Divergent, a great deal of the dangerous and suspenseful action takes place within simulations. "Initiates" like the main character Tris face fearsome foes while connected to a machine that creates the simulation. 
It's not very exciting. 

During the simulations, Tris has to drill herself: "This is not real. This is a simulation. It can't hurt me." This does a lot to deplete the suspenseful energy of the scene. As a reader I have to drill myself: "This is real enough to care about. She's really under duress. This is intense. It it!" But it's not. Especially in comparison to the trials that truly try the aspirants in An Ember in the Ashes, book 1 of the quartet of books that I'm obsessed with by Sabaa Tahir, the third instalment of which comes out June 12. 

In Ember, the aspirants face their fears, but not some phoney version generated by a metal chair and some wires attached to the head. They face demons made of sand in the wide, barren desert; they face wraiths that shriek; a headmistress who is one of the most fearsome characters I've ever read about, right up there with Voldemort; they face impossible mental challenges, like the wrenching need to kill some friends in order to save others. 

Another thing about Divergent: Tris seems born to face down terrifying fears, with no real learning curve (in this way she is similar to Hunger Games' Katniss. She is not greatly phased by enormous strains on her endurance. Her mental capabilities are always up to the task. She doesn't fail enough, basically. 

In an interview, Tahir, author of Ember, said that she didn't think the young heroines of YA fantasy should necessarily spring onto the page totally ready to take on the world. Laia, her main character, has to build up her ability to face the challenges she faces, and she fails a lot on the way there. Her failures have real consequences for herself and for others. It makes the story relatable and compelling, because the character shows real growth. 

This week in class students are making their own stories, but our goal is to make realistic fiction. They chose a theme or topic that came up in some of our literature this year, did their own research on the topic, and now are creating scripts and images for a Common Craft-style video of their stories. 
Even the students who do not speak English well have complex and fascinating stories. One is about a politician named Farah who makes lots of promises while he's on the campaign trail. Ali, a citizen, gets really excited about his message and starts campaigning for him. Once elected, Farah's promises are forgotten, and Ali suffers disillusionment. 

I'm excited to see these stories take shape on paper and then on film this week.

Women and traditional roles

This month one of my students, L, who is a major chatterbox in her home language but who hardly whispers a word in English, made two insightful comments. 

The first was "Americans go somewhere, they go for business. They not go to live." This came out during a writing exercise in which students were talking about whether the US should intervene in other countries' affairs. No one else even approached the idea that L. brought up as if it were the most evident truth in the world. I encouraged her to write it. 

The second one, last week, was that women are usually "nature" (natural) to begin with, but then they see "vision" (I think she must have meant television) and wear lots of makeup and they change their hair. This was her comment during a discussion on women who are trying to break out of traditional roles. She and her partner, C, have made a story about a woman who immigrates to the US then changes her entire appearance. 

I encouraged these two students to consider, in their story, whether the character's mind changes too, or just her appearance. "Her mind too!" insisted L, again as if it was obvious. She has clearly watched this happen in several others. She herself arrives at school sometimes in sweatpants and looking as though she slept in her locker, sometimes totally decked out, hair, nails, fancy dress.

My attention was grabbed by this article this week, about a book by a woman who is trying to decide whether to have children or not. The questions which Heti asks are ones which are the same ones on my mind when I contemplate the motherhood question. 

Hamilton, and an America Sings concert

On Friday, 88 students from Utah International went to the Eccles Theater to see Hamilton! the Broadway, hip hop musical. 

Of course I had read all about how groundbreaking Hamilton is as a piece of artwork, not just creatively (the blending of genres) but socially (a cast in which the only white actor plays King George III - all others, including Jefferson, Hamilton, Washington, Eliza and Angelica Schuyler, Aaron Burr, James Madison, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, Marquis de Lafayette, are all played by actors of color). But I was impressed how much the show brought this innovation home. I sat separate from most of my students because I was with the three students who had been chosen to perform their "performance piece" (the school work they were required to create in order to qualify for cheap tickets - an incredible program orchestrated with magnificent panache by a consortium of organizations, headed by Gilder Lehrman.) I could see where my students were sitting from my seat, and knowing that they, as immigrants and students of color themselves, were watching actors of color portray immigrants who helped shape our nation when they were the same age as my students... was a satisfying feeling, especially given the majority of white, affluent kids in the auditorium. 

The show glorified war more than I thought it would. Hamilton is dying for the opportunity to lead a battalion. George Washington tells him, "Dying is easy young man, living is harder." But Hamilton is deaf to warnings. And really, he escapes unscathed, either mentally or physically, from the trenches. The only struggle with death comes from his son's premature death in a duel over honor. The war bears no blemish in this story, and perhaps that's Lin Manuel Miranda's point - it took a war to give us this nation, and nothing short of a war would have, so it was a just war and doesn't need to be dragged through the mud like so many other wars are. 

I thought the play did, however, give a sense of the difficulty women faced when their men were away from their families at war and in governance. Much the way Jane Adams misses her husband when he's off participating in the first congressional meetings, Eliza feels Hamilton's absence as a personal injury - "if I could be enough... isn't this enough?" she asks as she gestures around at his home and his son... and herself. 

At the end, of course, she's the one who "lives" and "tells your story". Her voiced is certainly tinged with desperation when she asks "And when my time is up, have I done enough? Will they tell our story?" Two things. 

First, she seems to do these things in Alexander's shadow, not just inspired but compelled and in fear of his legacy. It's as though she's doing these things so he will rest in peace, not for her own fulfillment. Thanks to my students' research I know that widows had the most freedom and autonomy in colonial and early American society, so her life may have become much more free after her husband died. Good thing the good Lord gave her 50 more years!

Second, ugh! this unquellable need to leave a legacy, to make a mark that all posterity will recall. 

Legacy. What is a legacy?
It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see
I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me
America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me
You let me make a difference
A place where even orphan immigrants
Can leave their fingerprints and rise up
I’m running out of time. I’m running, and my time’s up

I can't decide what to say about the legacy question. If you have been doing good work, of course you want it to be remembered and continued. But not simply with a monument to you. Let's build monuments, rather, to ideas. That might make the likelihood that work on this idea continues. When I look at the Washington Monument, there is no part of me that things - hey, I could do what he did for freedom. But looking at a monument about literacy, or equal rights, might well inspire me to take action in my own small way. Let's not let legacies unwittingly distance us from the humans, for that is what they were, who did valuable work. Yes, Eliza! Your work is enough! It doesn't have to measure up to any Alexander-sized benchmarks. It only needs to stand the test of integrity: was the work done in good faith, for good causes, without overreaching? Since her mission work was in her own backyard, I feel the answer is more likely to be "yes" than it would have been had she gone outside the US to help other poor tired masses. 


Speaking of poor tired masses, the Salt Lake Choral Artists gave a concert called "America Sings" last night. It was a very different portrait of America - songs written about this "great unfinished symphony" in the years after Hamilton helped bring it into being. Most of the songs forgot about the "unfinished" part and just sang about the "greatness". It was a pretty bland concert. And there was no one person of color on stage, though that didn't stop us from trying on Elijah Rock. 

This Land is Your Land
Home on the Range
America The Beautiful
Let There be Peace on Earth
Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor (from the inscription on the Statue of Liberty - whose foundation on an idea rather than a person I appreciate! Thank you France!)

These were not making me smile last night, or any rehearsal night last month. 

The one song on the program that redeemed the concert in my eyes was Song of Democracy, which puts Walt Whitman poetry to words and pays tribute to some of the difficulty of being a democracy, but is essentially hopeful that the "ship of democracy" will carry on. He tells the ship, "Of value is thy freight." I find that a very moving line in this piece. Of value is thy freight, ship of democracy. Don't be reckless. Here's a video of the New England Conservatory giving a concert of this piece, with orchestra (we are only using piano for our version). The part I like best starts at 6:00. The poetry says: 

Sail, Sail thy best, ship of Democracy,
Of value is thy freight, 'tis not the present only,
The Past  is also stored in thee.
Thou holdest not the venture of thyself alone,
    not of thy Western continent alone.
Earth's resume entire floats on thy keel, O ship,
    is steadied by thy spars,
With thee Time voyages in trust, the antecedent
    nations sink or swim with thee.
With all their ancient struggles, martyrs, heroes,
    epics, wars, thou bear'st the other continents,
Theirs, theirs as much as thine, the destination  -
     port triumphant

  

The end of the rail

Today when I set down The Underground Railroad after the final page, I crumpled. I had not experienced the overwhelm I expected to feel in each chapter while reading a book which I knew would text my limits of tolerance, but it all came in a wave at the end. 

Though it wasn't the graphic nature of torture, but the weight and hopelessness of the whole enterprise of slavery which made me cry. I had been steeling myself against descriptions of personal injuries on the page, but it's the book's overall message about the institutionalized atrocities of slavery that walloped me as a reader there at the end.

I don't read reviews of books until after I read them, and here is much more than a review: this New Yorker Article talks about our attempts to rebrand the UR as a white institution that saved blacks. It properly contextualizes risk and heroism in the pre-Civil War south, and refers several times to Whitehead's book. 

I think everyone should read this book. 

A short review by Toni Morrison

I'm now deep into The Underground Railroad, and the most recent lesson it has taught me is that North Carolina criminalized being black when the ratio of blacks to whites become worrying. Indentured servants from Europe were brought in and "the penniless black were replaced by the penniless white, except the whites weren't penniless at the end of the week." Eventual freedom, after earning enough to pay off passage, loomed for whites. Blacks found in North Carolina, free or fugitive, were lynched publically and strung up along the Freedom Trail. 

This book prompted me to watch the Netflix documentary 13th this week, about the 13th Amendment, and its disastrous loophole which granted freedom to everyone "except those convicted of crimes". The film demonstrates that mass incarceration for whatever crime is necessary has replaced slavery as a way to keep black men out of society's mainstream. 

Young Angela Davis

One segment of the film focuses on the history of Angela Davis, who was charged with aiding in a murderous scheme in 1970, at which point she was a professor of philosophy at UCLA. I had never heard of her, but was immediately compelled by her bravery, by the footage of her trial, by the seeming clarity of her commitment to communism and resistance against white tyranny. 

Davis, recently.

I looked her up in the nytimes archives, and found this smoking review of a biography of Davis. The biography was written by a white high school classmate of Davis', and the review was written, carved, by Toni Morrison. She takes the author to town for being a modern-day Harriet Beecher Stowe and presuming to tell the story of a black revolutionary - as if she could possibly know how a revolutionary black person's mind works, let alone is formed. Naturally, the biography gives all credit to white influences, and deems the subject "kind and funny."

Read the review here.

Cruelty - Bible, Shakespeare, Slavery

In adult Sunday school this week the pastor talked about Paul and his attitude on slavery. In his letter to Philemon, Paul tells Philemon to receive his former slave Onesimus not as a slave, but as a friend. Onesimus has come to help Paul survive in prison. Roman prisoners at this time got nothing from the prison, so they died if they didn't have care teams from the outside. 

Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon saying "I am sending him—who is my very heart—back to you. 13 I would have liked to keep him with me so that he could take your place in helping me while I am in chains for the gospel.14 But I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that any favor you do would not seem forced but would be voluntary. 15 Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back forever— 16 no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a fellow man and as a brother in the Lord."

It was strange to read this and imagine such a suggestion - that a slave be received as a beloved brother, not as a slave - in the context of the book I'm reading, Colson Whitehead's The Underground Railroad. 

In TUR, Cora is a runaway slave, and the cruelty she has escaped is so vicious it is hard to fathom. My friend I. says "It is my personal belief that slavery was so horrible that we can't even conceptualize it. There is no way we can imagine how bad it was. I feel the same is true of the Holocaust." Her words ring true as I read Whitehead's no-frills prose describing the everyday treatment of slaves, both delinquent and rule-abiding. Nothing helps me contextualize it in the kind of human treatment I have ever experienced or witnessed. 

It's bizarre to think of Paul's Letter to Philemon sitting on the shelves of all those slave owners who drained the life from the slaves that they owned, and did far worse than that to those that were returned to them. No semblance of brotherhood linked them, and still it seems nearly impossible for white and black to be in true brotherhood in this country. Perhaps that sounds harsh. There are certainly black and white friends. But I have the intense impression that I, as a white person, will never get it. I can try, and trying to get it is the right thing to do, but I'll never get it. 

In Twelfth Night, which was at Pioneer Theater on Saturday night, Olivia is called "Fair cruelty". I bring this up only because it was another use of this word this weekend which fit into so different a category it was also hard to accommodate. Olivia rebuffs the amorous declarations of Orsino, and is labelled cruel for it. Poor Orsino. The obliviousness of the wealthy people in this play reminds me of my Renaissance Theater class at Bread Loaf last summer, where we talked about the atrocious waste of human and physical capital that took place in Renaissance courts. Good people, who wasted their time chasing love and wasted their people's money on clothes and frivolities. Large scale cruelty against the poor. 

At least Shakespeare gave those an opportunity to laugh at representations of the courtiers on stage.

Last week I used this video to talk with my students about how to give a group poetry performance. It candidly talks about cruelty that is subtly dealt out to students by teaching them certain lessons that never appear on the official curriculum. The students found it very impressive.