Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Humanizing an Anti Human Agenda: Sugar, Pineapples - A Subtlety & This Is Paradise

Humanizing an Anti Human Agenda[1]
Sugar, Pineapples - A Subtlety & This Is Paradise

            Kara Walker’s A Subtlety was widely seen and critiqued for the two months it was on view at the historic Domino Sugar Factory in Brooklyn. Now cited for demolition, this opportunity was consciously utilized to tell the story of the sugar commodity, and the bitter exploitation that made its wide distribution and consumption possible. My visit began with a trusted friend, speaking about our personal memories of the Domino sugar factory. We spoke of the iconic nature of the sign, anyone who has ever passed through the FDR drive has spotted it, billions of people by now. As someone who is not from New York, but moved herself here, I remember my frequent trips to NYC as a child and seeing that worn yellow sign. I didn’t know the history of sugar then like I do now, or have the critical understanding to place it in a historical context, but I knew the image of sugar, and ask anyone who knows me well, I’ve always loved the taste. By the end of our experience in the factory, we were heavy, quiet, and tired. We needed to digest exactly what we were seeing and how it was being presented, but there were so many intertwined layers. I knew immediately upon exiting the premises that A Subtlety reminded me of another exhibit I had seen in 2013 at el Museo del Barrio’s Bienal. The artist, Hector Arce Espasas, used the pineapple commodity to tell a similar narrative about colonization and erasure, exploitation and murder, the connection between enslaved black bodies and other trans-Atlantic commodities, and the rhetorical contradictions power uses to mask the reality of an oppressed life. I’d like to take some time to outline my experience in both shows, and discuss why these artists know it is beyond important, and in fact necessary, to make work about colonization’s effect on modern life in the midst of severely confused and bleached ‘post racial’ and ‘post sexist’ dominant cultural attitudes.

Upon entering the premises of A Subtlety, a wooden wall encased the old factory, creating a visual barrier, but even more noticeably, a sound barrier that would carry with me throughout the entire show. We talked about the slightly upturned smile on the sugar babies faces. It reminded us that children don’t want - or accept - pity for their situation. They appear resilient, but they are holding baskets, the indicator that they have been stripped of their childhood entirely and have already been inundated as laborers. Their bodies produced, not even viewed as birthed, to be groomed for their labor power and submission. “An import of 400,000 slaves produced a population of 4 million at the time of the American civil War.”[2] We can see here how reproductive labor becomes central to the success of the southern US colonies, which I believe Walker was touching on by including children and their labor so explicitly in the exhibit.  It’s a slavery narrative that has clearly been stricken from the record - what of black motherhood then?



Especially striking were the sugar babies whose broken pieces lay dismembered in a pool of molasses. As we stood in Brooklyn, which had had shootings over that very weekend, we remarked that this image was as much an image of history as it was an image of 2014. As I write this, Twitter is on fire with tweets from Ferguson, Missouri where protests have erupted, demanding justice for Mike Brown, a young black man who has been murdered by the Ferguson police with eyewitnesses sharing the account live.[3] Weeks ago the story of Eric Garner shook New York after he was choked to death by the NYPD.[4] The stories of Shantel Davis, Renisha McBride, Kimani Gray, Ramarley Graham, Amadou Diallo, Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, Oscar Grant, and a horrendous list of so many others crossed my mind at that moment. These cases are the ones that were able to penetrate the media, and it troubled me that so many people’s lives have been snuffed out, and no one cried out. So often do I listen to the way black people who are close to my heart speak about their lives in terms of having not been one of these cases, including my brother who accompanied me through this experience. We have had countless conversations about this topic, and the dismembered sugar subtleties[5] were the embodiment of those dialogues.

 Impossible to ignore at any point upon entering the premises, the Sphinx woman commanded the entire room with her awesomeness - how I would imagine it would feel to stand before a Sphinx in Egypt, but it was clear that her form and image was far more complex than to be defined as simply a Sphinx replica. This particular Sphinx has lived all the generations of lives of her history - a modern woman who carries Mammy and Minstrel and so many other weights on her body and her face right into this present moment to tower over all of us. Walker describes her: “It’s not a kind of Egyptophile relic, this is someone from the New World.”[6] The enormous body and posture of the Sphinx took us to ancient Egypt roughly 4,000 years ago.[7] The archetypal mammy face and handkerchief took us to 1889 where a tune called “Aunt Jemima” was being sung by a blackface performer who was wearing an apron and bandana.[8] The sculpted sugar curvatures recalled the life of Saartjie Baartman & the Hottentot Venus[9], a body always on display, complete with racist, ignorant white participants.[10] And she was filming you the whole time![11] Damn, you wish you were on Kara Walker’s level.





She sits inside of the Domino sugar factory - an industrial giant whose roots are in excess, commodification, and its operational system: capitalism. Arturo Escobar writes that, “Capitalism…is of the essence for both the conception of modernity and its darker side, coloniality.”[12]  The industrial booms that are praised in the dominant historical narratives are impossible without the exploitation of black bodies - and we see a keen focus here on black women, specifically and unapologetically.

The floor of the old Domino Sugar Factory was soaked in years of molasses compounded - The air smelled sweet, but it was suffocating in the same breath. The stark contrast between the dark walls of the building, which have been stained with layers of sugar from the refining process, and the bright whiteness of the Sphinx, made striking visual and metaphorical connections. Brown sugar is bleached and refined to turn pure white for aesthetic and cultural reasons, colloquially known as ‘plantation white sugar’.[13] There is, and never has been, a utilitarian purpose. Interrogating the refinement of sugar - the whitewashing of sugar - is key to understanding its symbolism as a colonial commodity that simultaneously symbolized wealth status among whites.  Howard Zinn writes that “it is noted that, even before 1600, when the slave trade had just begun… the color black was distasteful… Elizabethan poetry often used the color white in connection with beauty.”[14] He is discussing the naturalizing of race through the social construction of racism and the capitalistic incentive for enslavement, and it manifests in the sugar refinement process we commonly know today. Frantz Fanon put this even more succinctly when he said “Imperialism leaves behind germs of rot which we must clinically detect and remove from our land but from our minds as well.”[15]

The sensory nature of this experience relayed the contradiction of sugar and its social history. Kara Walker sees her work not as ‘effectively dealing with history’ but being ‘subsumed by it’[16] and I’m inclined to agree because the most successful part of the show, which we know now was intentional, was the social experiment it became as people experienced and interacted with the work. The various backlashes and pings of social media discussions raged about the way the work was perceived, and under whose narrative the story of the Marvelous Sugar Baby was told. Walker had access to a space that was an intersection for multiple contradictions - historical and contemporary. We are often told in mainstream settings, be they academia, media, or otherwise, that these contradictions aren’t worth discussing because revisionism and erasure makes it easier to justify anything the powerful deems useless of preservation.

“The ‘discovery’ of America and the genocide of Indians and African slaves are the very foundation of ‘modernity,’ more so than the French or Industrial Revolutions.”[17] These events are the bedrock foundation of our modern culture.
Kara Walker is not the only artist to literally mold their art through the layered and intersecting contradictions of the 'colonial wound'. I’m borrowing this phrase from the brilliant author Walter Mignolo, who writes in the preface of The Idea of Latin America, “Perspectives from coloniality, however, emerge out of the conditions of the ‘colonial wound,’ the feeling of inferiority imposed on human beings who do not fit the predetermined model in Euro-American narratives.”[18]


I saw Hector Arce Espasas’ piece This is Paradise at the 2013 Bienal at El Museo del Barrio and I immediately saw connections while I was viewing A Subtlety because they were using similar materials. His piece used the pineapple, another transatlantic commodity whose presence in the lives of Europeans and Americans as a fruit of ‘tropical paradise’ was not possible without the exploitation and cold blooded murder of black people. This is Paradise along with the accompanying print, command the room. The pyramid arrangement of mercantile crates with shiny silver pineapple ewers signify colonization and the triangular trade (and the eventual triangular hierarchy of capitalism). My other immediate reaction was to associate the ewers with struggling bodies, reminding me of reading on slave-ship mutiny, which most often went unrecorded by the white men on the ship, especially when committed by women.[19] I couldn’t help but think of Billie Holiday's Strange Fruit as somehow being related to this. The ewers really evoke a 'strange fruit' and what would have been flowing from the vessels, had they been filled, would be blood, like Holiday's lyrics 'blood on the leaves.'[20]


            The small parrot at the top of the triangle also brought the viewer abruptly to the image of the ship - I believe Espasas wanted to bring us right there - perhaps to insert what history has been lost from those voyages.

To the left is the print of King Charles II receiving a pineapple from his gardener - believed to represent the first one grown in a European hothouse[21]. The social history of the pineapple serves as a great symbol for colonization’s evil mask. It was received in England as an 'exotic' commodity, so rare that the King of England posed with the fruit as a measure of royal privilege and status. It was considered both sweet and visually compelling, and over time the pineapple made its way to the dinner table arrangements of high class Europeans.

Arce-Espasas is using the pineapple as a profound motif for the transportation of commodities and emigration-enslavement of exotic bodies. In the same ways that Europeans received the pineapple as this 'otherly' and 'exotic' fruit, the justification for the exploitation and export of black bodies also relies on a naturalization of a difference i.e. exoticisation. The pineapple's context in Europe masks colonization by celebrating it as a sign of hospitality. Ironic, of course, because it's presence in Europe originates in violence, not hospitality. But all of that is erased from the European narrative because this is the very moment in history where primitive accumulation of capital begins on these exploitative terms.[22]

Whitewashed sugar was mass produced in places like the Domino Sugar Factory and sold by mid century advertisers who whitewashed its history for consumption by white people - this was a project to mask the utter exploitation, violence, and oppression that it takes to mass produce sugar along with many other commodities.  It also masked the bodies of black people that such violence was enacted upon. This was carried out through the production of advertisements such as this Domino sugar ad, which pictures white faces at a kitchen table with a bowl of fruit - but not just any fruit - notice the pineapple centerpiece is present. So here we have the sugar and the pineapple in the same room in this image. This advertisement generates correlations between the erasure of history and its revision to appease the desires of white people, providing a sweetness that was not previously available. Hector Arce Espasas and Kara Walker have been using these two sweet substances of the tropics to speak of our modern understanding i.e. lack of understanding of the wake and perpetration of colonization. At the time where mass production and marketing came together to sell the idea behind sugar as a commodity, the pineapple was, and still is, widely recognized as a symbol of hospitality. Quietness - and then connections - more specifically - contradictions.

            Both of these pieces stayed with me in my consciousness. They mapped an alternative landscape to understanding colonization - to understanding modernity. Kara Walker and Hector Arce-Espasas are rejecting post racial attitudes of tolerance and taking it to the root. What are the present day struggles of peoples, workers and their families, communities, who cultivate sugar and pineapple under global finance capitalism today? What are the present day struggles of black people to be, to simply live freely? What are the unique struggles of black women, whether they be cis, queer, or trans* women? They continue to exist in a world that has always used and hated them at the same time. Arce-Espasas and Walker are pointing out how the cultural attitudes towards white supremacy, misogyny, and capitalism are directly rooted in colonization - and at every turn we are encouraged to forget, move on, stay silent. These artists refuse that. Mass convergences of people are refusing it. We are armed and empowered with the knowledge of history - a history that has been purposefully untold. It is our collective responsibility to uncover the contradictions of our present life. 




[1]The irrationality of capital’s rational accumulation, its constant humanization of an anti-human agenda was, in the onslaught of its expansion, understood to require profound structural shifts in the operation of mediation in order to adequately distort the field of intelligibility and operationalize it in accord with its deeper though unrepresentable logic.” - Jonathan Beller, The Cinematic Mode of Production p. 298
[2] Martin Klein, Towards a Theory of Slavery
[3] http://mashable.com/2014/08/15/live-tweet-michael-brown-killing-ferguson/
[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Eric_Garner
[5]Once a luxury — subtleties were sugar sculptures made for the rich as edible table-decorations — sugar became more widely available due in large part to slave labor.” Roberta Smith, NY Times.  http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/12/arts/design/a-subtlety-or-the-marvelous-sugar-baby-at-the-domino-plant.html?_r=0

[6] Kara Walker: "A Subtlety, or the Marvelous Sugar Baby" | ART21 "Exclusive" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRkP5rcXtys

[7] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sphinx
[8] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aunt_Jemima
[9] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saartjie_Baartman

[10] Kara Walker's Sugar Sphinx Spawns Offensive Instagram Photos, Cait Munro http://news.artnet.com/art-world/kara-walkers-sugar-sphinx-spawns-offensive-instagram-photos-29989

[11] Kara Walker Secretly Filmed You Taking Selfies in Front of Her Sphinx by Rachel Corbett http://www.vulture.com/2014/11/kara-walker-filmed-you-in-front-of-her-sphinx.html

[12] The Idea of Latin America, Walter Mignolo
[14] A People’s History of the United States, Howard Zinn
[15] Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth
[16] Kara Walker: "A Subtlety, or the Marvelous Sugar Baby" | ART21 "Exclusive" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRkP5rcXtys
[17] The Idea of Latin America, Walter Mignolo
[18]  The Idea of Latin America, Walter Mignolo

[19]  "Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book,” Hortense Spillers
[20] Strange Fruit, Billie Holiday https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4ZyuULy9zs

[21] King Charles receiving the first Pineapple cultivated in England http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=3231524&partId=1

[22] Primitive Accumulation of Capital http://encyclopedia2.thefreedictionary.com/Primitive+Accumulation+of+Capital

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

They Can See Us

I’ve always thought I had a good handle on love
Like it was something I could plan for, calculate,
Like an itinerary, or a map with a compass.
Almost so calculated that it was easy to avoid the thought of it,
See the multitudes of ain’t shit mothafuckas in the street and laugh
They never had a chance with a woman like me,
It’s part of what got under their skin.
It’s a part of their attraction to me - their need to dominate me just… being.
All these people moving in, moving through, moving out, of the mountains and valleys of my existence - But that, that was never love, or even came close. 
Love is present - constant throughout my journey without a map or a compass, no plans, wrong turns, calculations awry, nothing is handled, I am the golden rule, I am every plane of direction, I am reckless, tidal waves of me… being.
Like color theory, me next to you changes the primary landscape
And they can see us from far out. 
We are what it is to file away at the confines,
Shatter the perception of what it is to love in present tense.

Though my being is a tantrum and a solace - you understand my process.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Street Harassment & Primitive Accumulation

            This paper will explore the historical relationship between primitive accumulation and contemporary street harassment. Primitive accumulation and its subsequent forms of antagonisms set up the conditions for gender roles that continue to oppress women and break female solidarity. By attempting to control and violate our bodies and minds, men demean us by openly verbalizing and asserting that our existence is for their pleasure or use.  When the female body moves through public space, she is subconsciously considered to be outside of her prescribed area, the domestic, where the process of women’s unwaged labor as reproducers and homemakers is set to take place. Our presence in public space signifies our independence from domestic work, and thus we must be reduced to sexual objects when we enter it. Men’s gaze, words, and actions, tell us that we should see ourselves the way they see us, as objects to be used. Our use is prescribed to us on a daily basis, it is reinforced in our psyches, and some of us believe it. But the concept of ‘use’ is exactly what surfaces the connection between the process of primitive accumulation and street harassment. Primitive accumulation is a “social system of production that does not recognize the production of the worker as a social-economic activity, and a source of capital accumulation, but mystifies it instead as a natural resource or personal service, while profiting from the wageless conditions of the labor involved.”[1] In this historical transition to capitalism, the female body was appropriated as a machine to be used and controlled; the female mind was shaped to deny her own thoughts, desires, and agency.
       The effects of these 19th century transversal antagonisms in our contemporary society are real; they have penetrated the culture through the “creation of homogenous bipolarized fields of subjectivity.”[2] As this subjectivity is reproduced, certain behaviors are normalized, and many forms of street harassment, sexual assault, and other gender based violence fall into this cycle of value production.
       I will begin by redefining contemporary street harassment.  Cynthia Grant Bowman defines street harassment as “the harassment of women in public places by men who are strangers to them,”[3] in Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women. My critique of this definition lies in that this is a gender binary-based understanding of street harassment, which does not include the diversity of ways gender-based violence manifests. These forms vary, depending on a number of prejudices, xenophobias, and/or intersectionalities including race and sexual orientation/presentation. This paper focuses on the relationship between women in public and street harassers, but acknowledges the complexity of forms of gender-based violence and the need to firmly denounce all forms of such violence.
            I also part with Cynthia Grant Bowman’s definition of street harassers only as ‘strangers’. Because the focus is on street harassment in an urban environment, many women do not drive vehicles. This means that they must walk regularly in and through their neighborhood in what is often called a ‘daily round’[4]. Women walk to and from the train or the bus, to the bodega, the grocery store, or the pharmacy. This presence moving through public streets is a very different process than a suburban woman who drives to each location and enters a private institution. Under urban circumstances, many times women’s street harassers are repeat offenders, often occupying the same public spaces as a woman’s daily round. This means that not only must a woman deal with street harassment from strangers, but that she must also make a choice with whether to respond, and deal with the repercussions from someone she very well may see again in the neighborhood.
          
          So perhaps street harassment can be defined as the gender-based harassment of a person who moves through public spaces. This harassment can vary from sounds, to words, physical touching, and sexual assault. It can occur from strangers or familiar harassers. Legally, sexual harassment “has entered the law as a form of sex discrimination forbidden under title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964,”[5] which demarcated the acceptable social interactions between people of different gender presentations in the workplace. In the 50 years since it was enacted, street harassment is still a “phenomenon that has not generally been viewed by academics, judges, or legislators as a problem requiring legal redress, either because these mostly male observers have not noticed the behavior, or because they have considered it trivial and thus not within the proper scope of the law.”[6] With this in mind, I would like to examine a decisive turn in history where so many socio-economic relationships changed in ways that continue to reverberate in the contemporary moment. This is what Silvia Federici calls the “transition to capitalism”[7] and of particular interest is how the process of primitive accumulation set up the conditions for the patriarchal family and signified the loss of women’s control of the commons.

            Federici explains that “Primitive accumulation” is the term that Marx uses, in Capital Vol. 1, to characterize the historical process upon which the development of capitalist relations was premised… However, my analysis departs from Marx…Whereas Marx examines primitive accumulation from the viewpoint of the waged male proletariat and the development of commodity production, I examine it from the viewpoint of the changes it introduced in the social position of women and the production of labor power.”[8] Federici examines the ways in which that social position was restructured, with methods including the subjugation of women’s labor to the “reproduction of the workforce” and the “mechanization of the proletarian body,” as well as the exclusion of women in waged work.[9] Caliban and the Witch delves further into understanding the connection between the “body in their applications to an understanding of the history of capitalist development.”[10]

            Federici examines a 15th century political project, which decriminalized rape, giving male proletarian workers unlimited access to proletarian women’s bodies, creating a sharp rift in their solidarity. “The gang rape of proletarian women became a common practice which the perpetrators would carry out openly and loudly at night, in groups of two to fifteen, breaking into their victims’ homes, or dragging their victims through the streets without any attempt to hide or disguise themselves.”[11] This physical violence is just one of the manifestations of a changed power relationship between proletarian men and proletarian women. This was only the beginning of “violence by means of which male-centered systems of exploitation have attempted to discipline and appropriate the female body, demonstrating that women’s bodies have been the main targets, the privileged sites, for the deployment of power-techniques and power relations.”[12]
            The transition to capitalism included “the expropriation of European workers from their means of subsistence, and the enslavement of Native Americans and Africans,”[13] which each deserves a lengthy critical look beyond the scope of this paper. However, a method of primitive accumulation often overlooked was the “transformation of the body into a work-machine, and the subjugation of women to the reproduction of the work force.”[14] Federici examines how, in the 16th and 17th centuries, policies encouraging population growth begin to take shape. Jean Bodin was quoted as saying “the strength of the commonwealth consists of men.”[15] These policies surfaced at the time when mercantilism was at its height and nation-state formation was underway. This created a paradigm of the female body as “raw materials, workers and breeders for the state… laws were passed that put a premium on marriage and penalized celibacy… the family was given a new importance as the key institution providing for the transmission of property and the reproduction of the work-force… intervention of the state in the supervision of sexuality, procreation, and family life… witch hunts literally demonized any form of birth control and non-procreative sexuality.”[16] What is most important to take from this is that both enslaved black women in the colonies and European proletarian women were “turned into an instrument for the reproduction of labor and the expansion of the work-force, treated as a natural breeding machine, functioning according to rhythms outside of women’s control.”[17]
            With this came the devaluation of women’s work and the relegation of women to domesticity. By the end of the 17th century, “the assumption was gaining ground that women should not work outside the home, and should engage in ‘production’ only in order to help their husbands… [Arguing] that any work women did at home was ‘non-work.’” This denied the agency of women, taking the female body and prescribing and mechanizing its purpose, and removing it from public space. This differs greatly from feudal organization in which “’collective relations prevailed over familial ones’ allowing for great solidarity to fester among serf women.”[18] With the creation of the patriarchal family under capitalism, this ceased to exist, and the women who resisted were denounced as “sexually aggressive shrews or even as ‘whores’ and ‘witches.’”[19]
            This restructuring also speaks to the cultural perception of the ‘pure woman,’ whose primary role is wife and mother. The pure woman is the mechanization of her body, which exists more as a vessel that reproduces labor power than an autonomous human being. Contemporary examples of the effects of this restructuring are widespread, and the link between misogynist violence and the absence of a pure woman perception is rooted in the political restructuring of gender relationships that had occurred by the end of the 17th century.
            Domesticity is a private space, and the family became a small economic unit with the male patriarch as the owner of both property and people. Borders between public and private land were more clearly demarcated, and public space became a place where workers moved to and from their home, rather than a space that was occupied as a commons.
            The ways in which Silvia Federici examines the architecture of white supremacist capitalist patriarchy can be examined through the contemporary urban phenomenon of street harassment. When we look at how deliberate this restructuring was, we can begin to see its relationship to its contemporary effects. Street harassment can be examined in relation to the “Perception that every woman is merely a sexual object, [this] results when stereotypes surrounding the ‘pure woman’ – wife and mother – are exhausted. A woman who works and has no need for masculine protection becomes the antithesis of the ‘pure woman’ fantasy… a circle of hatred is closed and violence is unleashed: a situation that moves from the body to territory.”[20]
            In what ways could the roots of the restructuring of gender relationships under white supremacist capitalist patriarchy be exemplified through street harassment?  This relationship between body and territory is important. The presence of the female body in public continues to invoke a deployment of power techniques, which make it known that this body has a specific purpose that is prescribed to it.  The contradiction in street harassment lies in that the female body must exist for the entertainment of men, or to allow ones body to become public, while simultaneously reinforcing that public space is not a space that the female body should be allowed to occupy. “Any incident of harassment… reminds women that they are vulnerable to attack and by demonstrating that any man may choose to invade a woman’s personal space, physically or psychologically, if he feels like it. Thus, street harassment forms part of a whole spectrum of means by which men objectify women and assert coercive power over them, one which is even more invidious because it is so pervasive and appears, deceptively, to be trivial.”[21]
            What is troubling about the triviality with which this topic is discussed is that the psychological effects and emotional distress of street harassment is damaging, but not recognized as such. It disrupts women’s image of self. “Street harassment reduces women to sexual objects. The comments and conduct of a harasser then force this perception upon his target. One woman explained: “…There is more involved in this encounter than their mere fragmented perception of me. They could, after all, have enjoyed me in silence… But I must be made to know that I am a ‘nice piece of ass’; I must be made to see myself as they see me.” [22] In this way, street harassers attempt to reproduce their subjectivity in the minds of the women they harass, in hopes that they will believe it and succumb to the subservient status of an object to be used. 
           Street harassment becomes a legitimate concern to geographical mobility through urban space.[23] Women tend to be conscious of what spaces or circumstances may be particularly unsafe for them, especially after having long term experiences with street harassment. “Unlike men, women passing through public areas are subject to “markers of passage” that imply either that women are acting out of role simply by their presence in public or that a part of their role is in fact to be open to the public. These ‘markers’ emphasize that women, unlike men, belong in the private sphere, the sphere of domestic rather than public responsibility.”[24] This again brings us to the conclusion that the female body is not welcome to move with autonomy outside of domesticity, and confirms that street harassment is rooted in a historical restructuring of gender relationships which places women in an inferior role and then shames them for occupying space.
            Through the dense work of Silvia Federici, we learn that so much of our history as women has been taken from us, that our greatness continues to go unrecognized and unappreciated. We learn that the ways gender relationships are expressed in the contemporary does not derive from an ahistorical or natural phenomenon that places men above women in terms of strength and leadership, but rather from an intentionally directed political project in which a massive amount of generational exploitation could be disguised. Street harassment is one of the many methods in which rape culture rears its ugly head. It damages our self-esteem, makes public space an unsafe place, and continues to keep us from holding healthy and loving relationships with one another. Through an understanding of how these conditions developed over the last five hundred years, we can act in a way that reaches outside of the confines of these hierarchies to a world that respects all people’s bodies, minds, and choices.             



Works Cited 

Federici, S. (2004). Caliban and the witch. (p. 8-96). Autonomedia.  
González Rodríguez, S. (2012). The femicide machine. (p. 34). Semiotext(e). 
Grant Bowman, C. (1993). Street harassment and the informal ghettoization of women. Harvard Law Review106(3), 518-580.  
Guattari, F. (2008). The three ecologies. (p. 21). Continuum Impacts. 
Logan, J., & Molotch, H. (2007). Urban fortunes: The political economy of place. (p. 103). University of California Press.  





[3] Bowman, Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women, 519.
 [4] Logon, Molotch, Urban Fortunes: The Political Economy of Place, 103.

[1] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 8.[2] Guattari, The Three Ecologies, 21.
[5] Bowman, Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women, 518.
[6] Bowman, Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women, 519.
[7] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 4.[8] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 12.[9] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 12.[10] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 15.
[11] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 47.
[12] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 15.
[13] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 63.
[14] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 63.
[15] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 87.
[16] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 88.
[17] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 88.
[18] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 25.
[19] Federici, Caliban and The Witch, 96.
[20] González Rodríguez, The Femicide Machine, 34.[21] Bowman, Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women, 540.
[22] Bowman, Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women, 538.
[23] Bowman, Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women, 539.
[24] Bowman, Street Harassment and the Informal Ghettoization of Women, 527.