Heroin | Heroine

I struggle with the privileged white American woman's burden. Not the white man's burden of Kipling, which is considered a justification of Western imperialism in developing countries. My origins are humble, but because of the circumstances of my birth I enjoy opportunities and privileges ranging from exemption from suspicion to quick dispensation for minor legal infractions (e.g., speeding). I care deeply about issues and problems faced by those less privileged then myself, and admire people who bridge the distance between their similarly privileged positions and disadvantaged people they commit to help.

I read Three Cups of Tea, a book about Greg Mortenson, a privileged white American man who committed his energy to building schools for girls in Pakistan, expecting to elevate him in my mind to hero status. The book, written by David Oliver Relin, portrays Mortenson as selfless and self-sacrificing as he tirelessly raises money and spends long stretches in Pakistani villages arranging for materials and other resources to build and run these schools. I was uncomfortable with his story and my lukewarm reaction. I was left cold by the narrative that read, to me, like a promo piece in a fundraising pamphlet. Why, thought I, did readers react so positively to the book, such that every person I knew who read it (save one, and you know who you are!) raved about it? I'm heartened to see a few reader reviews on Amazon that mesh with my views, but in general the book and the subject (Mortenson) are handed, a la Kipling, "the lightly proferred laurel, the easy, ungrudged praise."

A more captivating story, in my mind, is one I read about a privileged white American woman, Sarah Chayes, who makes her life in Afghanistan, working with Afghanis in a cooperative that manufactures unique soaps. Maybe I find her story more interesting because she's a better writer than the Relin/Mortenson combo. But I think it has something to do with the person she is: a woman who did not impose her values and vision on the people who were so very different from her, but who crafted a business that took a cue from elders and that benefits the villagers who plant and harvest the ingredients of the soaps they produce. In Afghanistan, where heroin cultivation is out of control, the work Sarah does provides a viable alternative to production of illicit crops and products.

Chayes also writes about and discusses Afghanistan beyond her own interactions and experiences, understanding that she contributes to the fortunes of the community but also that there are large and complex forces that determine the fates of the people of Afghanistan, including her own. In other words, it's not all about her. Along with her wonderful work, her reverence and humility are what, in my eyes, makes her a heroine.

What's love got to do with it? Everything!

This is the most wonderful story, with video.

My headache

“I don't take the movies seriously, and anyone who does is in for a headache.” - Bette Davis

As a movie buff, I watch movies, read about movies, think about movies. In other words, I take movies seriously. In a previous blog entry, I pointed out my observation that cinema reflects the political times. In the Bush years, movies have included torture-fests and Westerns and now we're saturated with superheros. The levels of arrogance and testosterone are higher than probably any other time in recent memory. We have been overrun by the "male gaze." This is the source of my headache.

The male gaze is so ascendant, it's easy to overlook. We are used to movies about stoners ("Pineapple Express"), sad sacks ("Yes Man"), and superheros (you name it) valiantly pursuing their quests to break free from whatever constrains them and also to score the frequently much younger hot babe along the way. Even romantic comedies, which generally attract more female viewers, focus on simplistic interpretations of women's points of view and these are often subverted by the male characters' pov's. This is a likely outcome of the disproportionately male dominance in the film industry. From producers and directors all the way to writers, men rule.

Women are a huge audience, but are rarely treated to the 'real' female point of view. We caught a glimpse in "Juno," the quirky comedy about a pregnant teenager who faces her condition stoically and with humor. Given the buzz and wild popularity of the film (not to mention the attention given to the talented, somewhat flamboyant, and female writer, Diablo Cody) it's no wonder than the film faced a backlash from the right. What's disturbing is that it faced a backlash from people who should know better.

The heartening thing is that it was considered enough of a player to warrant multiple academy award nominations, even among a host of "serious awards contenders," including the heavy hitters "No Country for Old Men," and "There Will be Blood," both dark stories about tragic (not super) heroes. Even more encouraging is that it was the highest-grossing of the five best picture nominees.

I confess that "Juno" was not my favorite movie last year, but I feel like it "represented" for women, which seems to be a rare accomplishment for movies these days. I'm not talking about a strictly feminist sense of representation; I simply mean that Juno was a lone female voice in a world that is so heavily-dominated by the male. If I could get a little more of that medicine, I think my headache might go away.