Showing posts with label Stereotyping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stereotyping. Show all posts

June 4, 2019

In Argentina “Cholita” Using Folklore in Singing, Dancing and Challenges Gender and Stereotypes





Screen capture from “Ramita Seca,” produced by Elisa Portela via YouTube, featuring choreography and interpretation of “Bartolina Xixa” a drag persona inspired by Andean indigenous aesthetics.
In the middle of a large garbage dump, surrounded by fog, a figure in a wide pastel pink skirt and long braids dances a vidala, a form of traditional poetry accompanied by music typical of Argentinian folklore.

                         
A small portrait of Romina Navarro
Written byRomina Navarro
Translated byDaniela Cristain



It's Bartolina Xixa, the Andean “drag folk” character created by Maximiliano Mamaní, who reassesses Argentinian northern folklore from a gender perspective and aims to decolonize it with a focus on indigenous peoples.
In their most recent work, “Dry Little Branch, the Permanent Coloniality,” the artist chose the open-air dump setting of Hornillos, located in the Quebrada of Humahuaca, a region declared as a cultural and natural heritage of humanity by UNESCO in 2003.
The vidala has plenty of symbolism. Composed by singer-songwriter Aldana Bello, the lyrics explore the topic of mining exploitation and atrocities perpetrated against Indigenous communities: 
 This vidala I'm singing / Is bleeding with grief and pain / The injustices of centuries / Still stand fierce […] In the Andean zone there are mining [companies] / They pollute dreams / Water, land, everything / [everything] that surrounds them.
Mamaní was born in Jujuy, located in far northwest Argentina, and grew up in the neighboring region of Salta. They study Anthropology at the National University of Salta and work as a professor of folk dance.
With Bartolina Xixa, Mamaní challenges stereotypes found in folk art, in which gender roles perpetuate binary structures that leave out a range of identities. As Mamaní points out in an interview with the Argentine site VOS:
I perform Argentine, Peruvian and Bolivian folk dances. I like folk music, which is why I had the need to reflect on it and on my position as a gay man in it, as I was being denied the opportunity to express myself when it came to build a choreography and make a partner dance…
And they add:
I realized that the same thing was happening to many others, because folklore has been designed from a heterosexual point of view. Certain attributes are given to the male figure, to the gauchos [for example], such as strength, firmness, and courtship. He is the one who leads. Women, meanwhile, are submissive, complacent.

A tribute to an Aymara heroine

Mamaní's social questionings are not limited to the world of folklore — they also address the tendencies that dominate global aesthetics with which “drag” is approached, an aesthetic that the artist says is linked to stereotypes of Western cultures’ notions of the feminine.
Their drag character is a departure from that tendency: Inspired by Bartolina Sisa Vargas, an Aymara leader who rebelled against the Spanish empire and subsequently captured, tortured and murdered in La Paz, Bolivia, in 1782, Mamaní pays tribute to this Andean woman, the “cholita” — “a hardworking woman, head of her household, who goes out to work every day, and who has ties to her family, her community, her ancestors, her traditions.”

Bartolina Xixa during a presentation in Buenos Aires, June 2018. Photo by Elisa Portela, used with permission.
In an episode of the podcast “Relatos Disidentes” or “Dissident Chronicles,” from the Salta-based portal, VóVè, Mamaní describes his character:
I usually say that I lend my body to Bartolina Xixa. [A character that] was born from the urgency of being able to think of other ways of doing folklore, another way of understanding identities that cross my own experience and that cross a whole group's experience.

Challenging the construction of Argentine masculinity and the “LGBT-norm”

Mamaní's activism and militancy appeal to social networks — especially Facebookand Instagram — through which to convey provocative messages. The best example is a Facebook post that became known as the “gay kiss,” which went viral on the platform in November 2018.
They shared the post during the pre-game soccer match between Boca Juniors and River Plate soccer clubs, featuring images of Mamaní kissing another man in front of the convent, San Bernardo, in Salta, while wearing the shirts of the rival teams. They declared it the “Super Classic Gay Kiss”:
An extract of the text in the post reads:
The super classic Gay Kiss. We're black, we're from the slums, we're from the countryside, we're poor. We don't have the stereotypical slim body, we're the face that coloniality refuses to acknowledge. We're fags, empowered and subaltern, away from the steretypical “classic” gay [man] […] We live our lives in spaces and memories that are always silenced by the heteronorm and the LGBTnorm […] An Argentine clssic is not Boca vs River. An Argentinian classic is seeing we're stigmatized, insulted, expelled (from our lands), hated, killed.
The post attracted all kinds of reactions and comments of support, rejection, ridicule, admiration, love, and hate from users. Global Voices spoke with Mamaní about the post via WhatsApp:
An interesting thing was seeing how they were attacking us by saying we were not Argentinian […] What they were trying to say is that the face of Argentina is white, is heterosexual, and has no brown or indigenous attributes, nor it has any sexual diversity.
Mamaní acknowledged that he is cautious when he publishes on social networks, aware of how it exposes them to attacks and intolerance. But they do not let attacks and negative criticism interfere with their main goal to disseminate artistic work through their drag persona, Bartolina, in the spirit of environmental, social, political and gender activism.
Mamaní also stressed how they are constantly challenged within the “drag queen scene” and LGBTQ communities of Argentina. Their way of expressing diversity from a “peripheral perspective” — away from the urban centers of power, Mamaní says, is questioned by choosing, instead, a drag character from the aesthetic of Bolivian indigenous culture:
It is not the same to be a white gay [man] from the city than a brown gay [man], with body that is not normative [according the dominant idea of beauty], with an indigenous face, who lives in a community far from all capitalist culture. [Being] gay, poor, from the working class… all of that defines and differentiates [our social] structures [and experiences].

July 13, 2015

Stereotyping on Gay Speech: Do Gays Sound Gay?



You know we are getting places of gay liberation when the media is discussing how we speak. Why? First because someone in the spotlight who happens to be gay brought it up. Secondly, now that the media is more comfortable with us and hopefully we are generally speaking also more comfortable with ourselves, that at least in the West, we are seeing results from our fight for equal rights civilly and humanly speaking.

After reading Time and other publications I decided to print The New Yorker because it was the best written and it had humor since talking about high tones and ’S’ tones is funny; but also because we have mature to the point we can look at ourselves with a critical and funny ways. I think that is a good thing. Since chances are you wont be able to read all the media stories, I brought you this one and that you read it in the way it was intended; In a light hearted way and also looking inside of us and discovering how some of us are different from straights and some are not.

The filmmaker David Thorpe has a warm, woolly speaking voice with a bit of a lilt. It’s a little floaty on the cadences, a little strong on the “S”s. You know what I’m getting at? He sounds gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Or is there? Not long after Thorpe broke up with his boyfriend, he began thinking about the way he speaks, and the way other gay men speak, and why both suddenly bothered him so much. When he listened to himself, he felt “out of synch” with his own voice. On a train to Fire Island, he was repelled by the chattering men around him, who sounded like “a bunch of braying ninnies.”
This is how he describes the moment in his documentary “Do I Sound Gay?,” which opens this weekend at the IFC Center. The subject sounds slight, but Thorpe digs surprisingly deep, asking questions about stereotypes and self-loathing that are seldom asked. (Try saying that last sentence out loud with a lisp.) Putting himself on camera, Thorpe visits a speech therapist who points out his “upspeak,” his “nasality,” and his “singsong pattern.” He talks to a linguistics professor, a film historian, and a Hollywood voice coach who trains actors to sound straighter. He interviews gay public figures, including David Sedaris, Tim Gunn, Don Lemon, and George Takei, who have had to listen to themselves for a living. He even asks people on the street if they think he sounds gay. “I woulda just maybe lumped you in with the artsy-fartsy,” one woman tells him. 
The subject turns out to be a minefield, because what’s more connected to personality than the way we speak? Gay adolescents, Thorpe points out, often learn that the “tell” of their sexuality is their voices, even more so than physicality—a limp wrist is easier to straighten out than an inflection. The world’s homophobia becomes internalized homophobia. Even within the gay dating community (and in gay porn), hyper-masculinity is habitually prized, so self-disgust gets easily turned back outward. The pop-culture roots run deep, from the aristocratic pansies of the pre-Hays Code cinema through wink-wink camp figures like Paul Lynde and Liberace, up through the effete Disney villains of “Aladdin” and “The Lion King.”
Of course, not all gay men have the same voice, or any “gay” voice: it is a stereotype, after all. Thorpe talks to a straight friend who sounds “gay” (he grew up on an ashram, surrounded by women), and a gay friend who sounds “straight” (he has jock brothers). But Thorpe admits that there’s something unnerving about having learned, subconsciously, to adopt a stereotype. Did he choose to sound gay or did sounding gay choose him? A friend from childhood tells him that, when he came out in college, his inflections suddenly changed, and part of her still hears the voice of an “imposter” when he talks. It reminded me of a straight friend who once told me, soon after I came out, that I was starting to sound “essy.” (The gay “lisp” is a bit of a misnomer, usually referring to a sibilant “S.”) Was I finding my true voice, or just reprogramming myself to conform to a different group?
Obviously, the conclusion—the film’s, and mine—is to dissociate the “gay voice” from shame and reattach it to pride, but it isn’t so easy. “For many gay men, that’s the last vestige, that’s the last chunk of internalized homophobia, is this hatred of how they sound,” Dan Savage tells Thorpe. The obstacles, once you think about them, are seismic, given the countless ways our culture awards status to masculine attributes over feminine ones. One of the ways gay people tend to compensate, the film suggests, is to adopt the supercilious speech patterns of the leisure class, i.e. sounding “artsy-fartsy.” You might also call it wit or intelligence, a benefit of cultural remove. Either way, you can end up sounding like Addison DeWitt.
Any marginalized group faces its own version of this dilemma, whether it’s immigrants straining to erase their accents, the debate over Ebonics, or women of the “Lean In” age redefining what it means to be assertive without imitating men. The CNN anchor Don Lemon tells Thorpe that he worked harder to neutralize his Southern black accent than his “gay” accent. (The phenomenon of gay white men imitating black women’s speech is its own thorny subcategory.) Hillary Clinton’s speech patterns—that here-and-gone Arkansas twang, those “authoritative” masculine cadences—are sure to keep linguists busy for decades. As gays and lesbians gain cultural capital, helped along by equality victories like the one just handed down by the Supreme Court, “gay voice” will surely evolve, too. For more and more people, there will be less need to hide it, at school, at work, or on television. On the other hand, it could assimilate into oblivion. But I hope not. Because how do you spell “fabulous” without a treble “A” and a sibilant “S”?
Newyorker.com                                      

March 24, 2015

What it means to be a Man: Male Stereotypes Hurt Boys from the get go



                                                                         
       

“Be a man,” “suck it up,” and “don’t cry” are only a few phrases handpicked from a plentiful basket of ego-damaging constructions built into today's society. Reinforcing rhetoric that feminizes emotional expression and masculinizes violence has the power to stunt empathy, drive dominance, and connect respect with fear. Boys are born loving creatures, but at a very young age they are taught the traits, diminutive language, and mindset that aligns them with society’s concept of what it means to be a man.

The United States has designed an unrealistic definition of American masculinity. Every single day, there is a boy who feels inferior because he is unable to fit the standard. For some that manage to, it is only an exhaustive façade covering the truth of his likes, dislikes, emotions, priorities, and passions — he is constantly putting on a show for the rest of society. In the case of young boys, this happens in school, the ultimate microcosm of our country. School is a time in a child’s life when he postures himself by finding a group of friends, a favorite class subject, sports, hobbies, and musical preferences. Ultimately, it's a time to discover who he is in the world.

Feminism only speaks of one lopsided perspective in the gender inequality story. There is a common misconception that men are a gender exempt from burdening expectations, stereotypes, and societal pressures; free from glass ceilings and slut shaming. But in truth, boys may be faced with a force entirely different, more complicated, and more painful — being told to fit into a hyper masculine and misogynistic mold. They must mask their emotions. If boys have a natural love for art, theatre, or singing they are immediately categorized, boxed up, and put on a shelf where children are called “gay” and “fag.”

“There were perceptions about males in theatre and up until about 10th grade — I was a pretty quiet kid,” 26-year-old Thomas Policastro of Long Island, N.Y. told Medical Daily. “I was hit with a couple of mocking jabs along the lines of ‘real men don't do drama’ in grades 7 and 8.”

Policastro reflects back to middle school and high school theatre, when kids brought their stereotyping jabs along with their book bags to school. But he attributes his happy childhood to being surrounded by an accepting support system of family and friends who disregarded the ridicule. It’s difficult to tease someone who doesn’t care for the negative and embraces the positive. 

1. The Battle for Boy Belongingness

No one can fault a child for walking school halls burdened by the natural desire to fit in, feel accepted, and be well-liked. Both the failure and success of trying to fit the mold of this male illusion can be linked to bullying, high male suicide rates, and even sexism. Cultivating a sense of belongingness among boys is the psychological fertilizer that grows gangs, cliques, and tightly knit friendships all the way into adulthood. It’s the reason why the school cafeteria is the center for socialization, where who you sit with reflects the group you fit into.

Barbara Williams, who holds a master’s degree in counseling psychology and mothers three boys aged 18, 15, and 12, recalls a memorable lunchroom experience with her youngest son: “In the beginning of the school year, Ethan was pushed off the school lunch bench by a boy from his basketball team and told he wasn't cool enough to sit there anymore. He didn’t tell me for over a month. Then the boy shoved him very hard on the basketball court. Ethan told the coach and then it all came pouring out. What hurt him the most was that his friends didn’t say anything or stand up to the bully.”

Previous research looking into patterns of social bullying — also called relational aggression — among both boys and girls found that boys engaged in mean verbal behavior in attempts to exclude the target from the social group. It also found they were more physically aggressive than girls, which is no surprise. Harming others through damaging or manipulating relationships is often more derimental to a boy's self-esteem, whether it's done verbally, or by physically shoving the child out of the group. 

Oftentimes, bullying stems from a home environment in which emotional expression is suppressed.
It turns out that the boy who shoved Ethan is the youngest of nine, and comes from a long line of bullies. After his parents divorced, he was raised by a father with a history of getting kicked out of sporting events. Williams recognizes that “anger and anxiety don’t just pop out of the blue." They come "from somewhere, whether it’s problems at home or school.”

This isn’t a story about bullying, however; bullying is only a mask boys wear. It represents a long-held lineage of teaching aggressive and powerful patterns born out of the emotional silence, according to the widely read parenting book Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys. Society needs to transform into one that provides role models who show boys emotion doesn't equate to weakness, and exerting dominance leads to fear rather than respect. 

2. A Gender of Silence

They are the aggressors, the ones who slam fists against lockers and have fights on the school bus. We’re raising large groups of the human population to lock themselves within their anger, and it isn’t long before they become prisoners to it. We can break these barriers down easily; a dad who cries during a sad movie or recognizes the beauty of a flower teaches his son that it's okay to be sensitive, Williams said. She also points out, of course, that not everyone has a father. Those circumstances are when uncles, grandfathers, coaches, and teachers need to step in and recognize their responsibility to show that child a healthy model of masculinity.

“The problem we see with boys — they don’t have an emotional literacy,” Williams said. “They say ‘I’m angry’ or nothing at all. They don’t have the tools to express exactly what they’re feeling, and we created that problem as a collective society. Parents and schools need to take part in promoting self-expression.”

That verbal expression, of course, should start with the parents. One study found mothers may be the best initiators of this emotional literacy, since they tend to use more emotional words with their children than fathers. However, they're also more likely to use those words in conversations with their daughters and not their sons. Changing this, so that mothers can talk to their sons in the same way, could teach boys how to express themselves without fear. 

Teaching boys empathy and emotional awareness will help them navigate through social traumas as children and teenagers, which will equip them for the pressures they’re bound to face in adulthood. Williams said her school district has already made great strides in encouraging both boys and girls to confront their emotions through the anti-bully, anti-drug, and anti-drinking and driving video lessons they’re exposed to as early as sixth grade.

Without an outlet or opportunity to foster healthy emotional expression, any child, boy or girl, can be left with dead ends and a deafening sense of loneliness. Every day, at least three boys commit suicide in the U.S., according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Males dominate suicide statistics and it is no coincidence they are the gender more likely to suppress emotions. They resort to violence or extreme behaviors, desperate to express themselves, yet unable to fit the stereotype of what it means to be “a real man.” The frustration can quickly build, fester, and ultimately manifest into shame and humiliation.

On the other side of the coin, girls are also hurting. Boys may have more successful suicide attempts, but girls resort to less lethal avenues, with pills and self-mutilation. We constantly search for ways to improve misconceptions on gender, but feminism has monopolized the podium. Women publicize their unhappiness with gender inequalities because they have been given the tools to weave together beautiful, expressive words. But who will stand up and speak for our boys? It’s time we did something about it.

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