Applying for Blackness: An Open Letter

By Chiazotam Ekekezie


Dear friends,

No disrespect is intended and nothing but realness meant. I know it’s long, so digest it in slow increments if necessary. Please share your wisdom and let’s dialogue. Things have been on my mind all day and then some. This email is in response to the use of terms like “incog” and suggestions of who’s involved in the black community and who’s not. I refuse to believe that one’s involvement in the black community is limited to something as superficial as “making the right appearances” or lip service. And I want us to take some time to respect each other’s own personal contributions to building black community here at Harvard and beyond. With that said, regardless of what you think you did to make you an authority on who’s black and who’s not, who’s in the black community and who’s not, which organizations are black organizations and which ones aren’t etc, at the end of the day, we’re all in this together. This goes beyond lack of attendance at the MLK celebration yesterday and towards defining what community means to each of us. Yes, there is no singular “black Harvard experience” and no all-encompassing notion of community. But I think that the discussions raised, however passionately infused, all have a common, well-intentioned goal which is to discern how we can better become a community because of the substance of what we do to empower each other collectively, and not how we decide to deride and divide ourselves based on superficial justifications....

“Curriculum vitae of the ‘incog’ seeking a position of blackness”
We were wondering if someone could at some point send out the standardized list of regulations and requirements for fulfilling the criteria of what it means to be black at Harvard and/or involved in the black community. When we got here Pre-Frosh weekend, they forgot to put a handout in our little red folders. And upon arrival that fall, we went to check the various manuals and catalogues laid out on our dorm room desks, but all we saw were manuals for choosing concentrations and picking classes… you know, the unimportant, important stuff.

Every now and then we check our mailboxes and we check our email accounts and we check online and we ask around, but it hasn’t come yet and no one seems to be quite sure of the criteria, as it may have changed significantly since the ’70s. Kuumba’s changed. There’s no more “Afro.” And the Barker Center is no longer the Student Union. And it’s no longer in style to take over the President’s office in the name of divestment; no, now we sign petitions, praise ourselves for caring and showing that activism among our population is not dead. We pray every now and then to silent forces that the administration honors its end of the deal until they decide to backtrack and we silently retreat to problem sets, hoping no one has noticed that the pulse of our passion and action is asystolic. Afros are about as necessary as spirituals ‘cause we’ve traded those in for fades and proceeded to draw our courage/strength/resolve and upliftment from Three6Mafia, DJ Webstar and Young B. After all, “chicken noodle soup” cures all, does it not? And what is our life, but one big “hustle”? Please don’t stop my “flow.” What we reap is what we sow. Don’t you know? Don’t you know!

Don’t you know? It’s been some years now and we’ve been doing our best to tutor and mentor black kids, raise awareness about black women and AIDS, sing and share black music and creativity. We’ve paid dues for certain groups and paid fees to enter different Celebrations and Tributes and dimly lit, poorly secured dance parties where we’ve done our best to gyrate to the beat (simulating African ancestors we tell ourselves we know intimately). We acquiesce to being groped and manhandled by “the man” who’s always fuckin with our groove. We’ve sat on boards and cabinets to help get black events funded and black campus issues more attention. We’ve written pieces on black issues, spent hours in labs researching HIV and sickle-cell anemia, been the voice of dissent in paternalistic discussions on race and black identity in various sections and lectures, yo check this, we even have many. Black. friends. And now, as we look back at all of this, we’re increasingly worried that we’ve forgotten to fulfill certain requirements that could leave us labeled as “incog” or much worse. We don’t know every single black face on campus nor does every black face know ours… but we can work on it. We don’t go to every meeting pertaining to black issues… but we can even try to change this too so long as it means that on the day we receive our respective diplomas, we can call ourselves true black people, which is what we thought we were, but have come to find that we are still in the endless process of becoming.

We know it’s exam period. We know we’re all really busy. But please, whenever you get the chance, do try and send out those requirements because it’ll be a damn shame if we graduate from this place without having fulfilled the necessary requirements. And a lot of us are confused, a lot of us are worried, and a lot of us are in the same boat, enduring a Middle Passage from the mythic to the realness… on a journey towards an ever-purifying legitimacy validating a supreme existence distinct from the regular folk surrounding us, thereby qualifying us as: “real blackness.” My goodness, what we wouldn’t give to be in that Talented Tenth.

Tell us what we have to buy and how we have to dress. Tell us what we have to say and what we have to do. Tell us where we have to be and where we have to go. Tell us who it is we are and who we have to know. We constitute a blank canvas waiting to drop it like it’s hot and quote Malcolm with the best of y’all. We want to be your Deval. We want to be your Obama. We want to be your tribute and your celebration. If only you will let us… let us be. Black. enuf.

We wonder what America would look like today if all those who came before us prioritized their GPAs and YouTube over freedom. And we are increasingly convinced after having been at Harvard and having seen the greatest minds of our generation at work, that that world would have been a beautiful, beautiful, perfect, perfect place… synonymous with a nightmare. But instead they shared a Dream and communal struggle was birthed. Perhaps, now, community is obsolete and, as such, died its death. Yet, in their “Field of Dreams,” they believed as we do now that if we build it, it will come: freedom. Unconstructively divided, however, we destroy it.

With love,
the brother and sister you do not see,
buried beneath the rubble of community.

A Surge of Supremacy: The Neo-Nazi Movement in Russia

By Olga Moskvina

“Isn’t it difficult, having all those non-Aryans around you every day?”

The question caught me completely off-guard. This Russian teenager, my compatriot, had been talking to me for some time and I found him to be agreeable. That is, until I mentioned how interesting it was to be in high school in California, since it gave me the chance to meet people from all kinds of ethnic and cultural backgrounds. The teenager’s words shocked me; never before had I been confronted with such straightforward racism. He continued talking in the same tone, touting the supremacy of the Slavic race.

I remember that episode every time I hear reports of extreme nationalist groups—some of them neo-Nazi—and of violence perpetrated by skinheads. I am still trying to understand the roots of racist and xenophobic attitudes in Russia.

A DISTURBING TREND
Though many countries in Europe have experienced an increase in neo-Nazi activities in recent years, Russia has proven to be some of the most fertile land for hate crimes, many of which are performed by very young people. The SOVA Center for Information and Analysis, a Moscow-based organization that monitors hate crimes in Russia, maintains a website that tracks extreme nationalist and xenophobic activity. It reports that in January 2007 alone, thirty-nine attacks motivated by ethnicity took place in Russia, and that in seven of these instances, the victim died. Some blame the numerous immigrants, particularly those from the Caucasus and Asia—who arrive by some estimates, at up to 20 million a year—for inciting race and ethnic-based attacks because they threaten the native citizens by competing for work and property.

Russian-born Julia Anoshechkina ’10, spoke of immigration with great enthusiasm: “I am very much for immigration; it increases diversity and we need people [who are] actually willing to do work.” However, she also noted, “Unfortunately, the immigration laws are so complicated that it makes it nearly impossible for people to go the legal route.” Indeed, immigration is not inherently problematic, but many of the immigrants in Russia are illegal, which the government and the taxpayers do not appreciate. Moreover, immigrants tend to build their own communities, and, sometimes, criminal groups, rather than interact with ethnic Russians. While immigrants’ tendency to form ethnic enclaves is quite natural considering their shared background, language, and experience, it creates tension, which leads to a vicious cycle: immigrants do not have the support and sympathy of the Russian population, so they depend on each other even more, which makes them tempting targets for violent radicals.

Other European countries, such as Ukraine—which has much shared history and culture with Russia—also experience immigration. Yet Ukraine does not have such a high rate of racial and ethnic strife between its immigrant and native populations. Why then does the emergence of new cultures inspire so much violence in Russia? For Alexander Kobzarev, a 29-year-old citizen of Ukraine, the reason for Russia’s violence lie in the country’s renewed self-confidence. “For about 70 years in the USSR, we all felt that we belonged to the greatest people in one of the most powerful countries, in the sense of warfare potential and political influence,” Kobzarev suggested. “Now, Ukraine is trying to integrate itself into the multinational European Union, whereas Russia once more feels that it is great and self-sufficient. [This] has spurred the development of the idea of the domination of the Russian people and, therefore, catalyzed neo-Nazi attitudes in the Russian Federation,” he explained. Olga Gaidai, also from Ukraine, offered a similar opinion: “Russia remains the leader among the other Former Soviet Republics, and maybe it is this fact that tangentially influences [nationalist] organizations and movements,” she said.

Russia has somewhat recovered economically due to the skyrocketing of oil prices in recent years, but, Ivan Hodyrev, a student of St. Petersburg State University, does not believe that Russia’s intercultural violence is due to growing ideas of the country’s world power. Instead, Hodyrev argues that “Russian youth (like any other) are rebellious. Young people already know that in society there exist certain limitations and that their elders more or less respect these limitations and follow them. But [young people] do not understand the purpose of [these] limitations. [They think] ‘Why shouldn’t we beat Chechens if they 1) Kill our own in Chechnya? 2) Sell overpriced goods in the market? 3) Act in our cities as though they were at home?’ These questions in a rebellious consciousness create a logical reaction of protest. To convince such a person of the opposite is impossible.”

Whatever the cause of the social violence in Russia, steps are being taken towards curbing radical nationalist activities. For instance, the government has been shutting down the websites of hate groups. Now, if you were to search for neo-Nazi and skinhead groups among Russian domains, you would find broken links or skinhead sites that explicitly state that they do not endorse discriminatory violence. Still, government policy cannot so easily change the outlook of certain people: the number of swastikas on walls and attacks signaled by shouts of “Russia for Russians!” are growing.

OUTSIDE RUSSIA
Russians have gained infamy of late as perpetrators of discrimination. But they, too, have been victims of discrimination. After the collapse of the Union of Socialist Soviet Republics, “Russophobic” attitudes developed in some of the Former Soviet Republics. Even many people in the Caucasus—often the targets of discrimination and derision in Russia—have a negative perception of Russians. Similarly, many people in the Baltic States, where Russians remained after the fall of the Soviet Union, are hostile to Russians, as are some Ukrainians.

Neo-Nazism and xenophobia are by no means a uniquely Eastern European phenomenon, either. Ivan Hodyrev pointed out: “Tolerance is a huge problem in contemporary society in general, in spite of the claims of certain countries that they have equality among all nationalities. This particularly includes such countries as the USA, Russia, and countries of Western Europe.” Indeed, many other countries are also experiencing an upsurge of violent nationalist activity. On the website for the South Carolina-based Aryan Nations, for example, the group’s pro-white America message is prominent: “We MUST begin reclaiming areas, town by town, making them White bastions for Our Folk!”

Still, despite the existence of groups like the Aryan Nations, the United States government has been more successful in addressing hate crimes than Russia. In Russia, perpetrators of hate crimes, even when caught, get away with relatively lax sentences. Notably, in a high-profile case of the murder of a 9-year-old girl from Tajikistan, the attackers were sentenced to between 1.5 and 5.5 years in prison. In the US, there seems to be stronger sentiment against those who commit violent, racist, and xenophobic crimes toward people inside the country. In contrast, ethnic Russians may separate themselves from the actions of extremists who attack other ethnic groups, but they do not feel any solidarity with the latter.

PRACTICAL CONCERNS ABOUT THE FUTURE
The irony is that Russians who want to banish people from other countries in the name of preserving Russia, such as the young man I spoke of in the beginning, may be doing just the opposite. In a country where couples are unwilling to have children because adults cannot take time off from work and support themselves, and where many make emigration to a country in Western Europe or North America their life goal, immigrants are absolutely necessary to prevent a demographic crisis and keep the economy running. The Russian government recognizes this, but still has not taken concrete steps toward reforming an ineffective bureaucracy or curbing widespread anti-immigrant attitudes. Until the Russian government and people can find a common tongue of respect and regard for people coming from different ethnic backgrounds, the tensions will continue to preclude much-needed cooperation and tranquility that could benefit Russia socially and economically.

I long for the day when I will be able to enjoy living a month without reading about another innocent person beaten and left in the street, by a wall marked with a swastika.

The Trouble with Diversity

On November 1, 2006, Walter Benn Michael, professor of English at the University of Illinois at Chicago appeared at the Cambridge Forum to discuss his new book, The Trouble with Diversity: How We Learned to Love Identity and Ignore Inequality.
In his book, Benn argues that Americans’ preoccupation with celebrating “diversity” masks growing economic inequality for marginalized society groups.

As Benn noted, the Harvard campus may indeed be diverse and colorful... but our pride for that “accomplishment” should not blind us to the fact that most Harvard students come from a relatively uniform—and unrepresentative—socioeconomic background.

Micofinance: Teaching People to Fish

By David Wang


“We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.”
– Mother Teresa

A curious quality about statistics is that they have no faces. Even while we cite numbers to draw the attention of others when we speak of social issues like poverty and suffering, we often fail to understand that behind each one of the numbers lies a story. These are the stories, not just of little people, but of big problems.

As the world moves increasingly toward a global market, the pursuit of profits has trapped a marginalized people into poverty, disempowering them and reducing them to statistics. Even while there have been attempts to “fix” some of these problems, the traditional form of direct aid has often been inefficient and unsustainable. Most resources are lost in overhead and are ultimately a temporary solution at best to a permanent problem.

An alternative approach is needed—and an alternative approach has indeed emerged. While many seniors spend their fall semesters vying for positions at bulge bracket investment banks, a different breed of finance is taking hold in underdeveloped areas of the world.

INVESTING IN THE POOR
Thirty-three years ago, recent Nobel Peace Prize recipient Muhammad Yunus was Head Professor of Economics at Chittagong University in Bangladesh. Though he had devoted his entire life to the study of economic theory and application, he was appalled at how classroom academia could not explain the tragic state of the impoverished and destitute during the Bangladesh famine of 1974. Confronted with this dissonance between theory and reality, Yunus and his colleagues established Grameen Bank, a financial institution dedicated to investing in the poor through microcredit, a then novel concept designed to revolutionize markets from the bottom-up. Now, three decades later, Grameen Bank has provided $6 billion to benefit seven million people, changing seven million otherwise faceless stories.

The mission behind microfinance is both simple and remarkable: microfinance institutions (MFIs) grant very small loans—typically less than $100 to the entrepreneurial poor in developing countries. That seed money is used to help individuals with proven, actionable business plans get started in self-sustainable ventures that provide an opportunity for economic freedom. Instead of spending daily revenues on servicing debt burdens and middlemen, this nest egg can advance projects such as agricultural productivity enhancement, arts and crafts production, and a wide assortment of other entrepreneurial endeavors.

At the core of microfinance’s success is the group-lending model. Jia Hu ’07, a board member of the Harvard International Development Organization, cites the model as an “ingenious mechanism to curb two issues that limit lending to the poor: asymmetric information and moral hazard.” The group-lending model requires a core unit of 5-8 people to sign on a loan together, offering joint collateral of some kind (i.e. a TV set) and agreeing to repay the sum together. As lending institutions are wary of defaults on loans, this approach ensures that not only will the group members peer-monitor one another and mutually cooperate to increase prosperity, but they will also self-select only the most committed members. As a result, “impossibly high interest rates are mitigated by this reduction of risk for both parties,” increasing both viability and distribution of loans to those who need it most.

Since Grameen’s founding, many other MFIs have followed in its footsteps. Today, more than 10,000 MFIs operate all over the world, largely concentrated in South America and Asia, but with satellite clusters in other areas of great need, such as Africa. According to a joint report by the United Nations Capital Development Fund and the World Bank, MFIs have an annual turnover of about $2.5 billion in credit to 30 million recipients. Though MFIs serve an impressive number of clients, they still only access 6% of the potential market; the other 470 million people remain waiting.

Yet, even as the microfinance sector grows, operations must continue to be executed at the local level. A larger umbrella organization would be incapable of accounting for cultural idiosyncrasies that determine conceptualizations of business, money, and the very idea of a loan itself. Thus, building and growing a sound microfinance industry is both an exciting and intimidating challenge that will require many hands at the grassroots level.

HARVARD: A DROP IN THE OCEAN
Harvard has its own initiative to further this movement. In 2002, undergraduate Melissa Dell ’05 spent her summer conducting data analysis on a longitudinal study for EMCOP, a small-scale MFI working with the poorest of the poor in rural Peruvian communities. After returning to Harvard, she founded an organization in collaboration with other social-justice-minded peers. Thus was born A Drop in the Ocean (ADITO), as named after Mother Teresa’s vision.

Since 2002, ADITO has lent their efforts to five institutions in Argentina, Peru, Mexico, and India. Current President Wojtek Kubik ’07 explains that ADITO works with smaller, understaffed non-governmental organizations (NGOs) who “are much more mission-based than the banks.” Because of transaction costs associated with issuing loans, banks are often unable to cater to the needs of the marginal bottom, and the burden of providing the smallest-sized loans to the most underprivileged falls instead on NGOs.

It is to these organizations with the least working capital, that ADITO strives to make the largest difference. During the school year, twenty-five undergraduates convene every other week to provide strategy consultation on instrument portfolios (i.e. loan type offerings and management), assess the performance of businesses, and, most importantly, produce impact reports for publications and funding proposals. This last responsibility is particularly critical, as the staffs of ADITO’s partner organizations are stretched thin and often don’t have the capacity to handle these projects themselves.

In recent years, ADITO has even started an internship program for interested students to “immerse themselves in the field,” according to Kubik. For example, one student spent his internship in Argentina working on methods to improve monitoring for current borrowers; his data is now being analyzed and prepared by ADITO’s technical team for an impact report, a crucial update to the MFI on their lending health and mission progress. Through their involvement, ADITO aims to raise awareness, both on campus, and on an international scale, about microfinance and its goals.

FACING FORWARD
As microfinance continues to expand its borrower base by nearly 30 percent year-after-year, the issue of sustainability is paramount. One of the greatest obstacles in addressing the lowest income brackets is the transaction cost involved with issuing loans, which is identical for both a $50 loan and a $5000 loan. Since interest rates in the microfinance sector are kept low for the purpose of affordability, variable costs are not recovered. According to Hu, there is significant debate over the long-term trajectory of MFIs, with “a strong division between those who believe that subsidies should be continually channeled in to help the poorest, and those who believe MFIs should ultimately attain self-sustainability through a profitability model.” The adoption of the latter, specifically through higher interest rates and attrition of loanable funds to commercial alternatives, will increase the footing of the MFI, but at a cost to the very people it is established to serve: the poor.

As for ADITO, Kubik is focusing on the smaller picture. As long as the need exists—and, truly, the need is endless—ADITO will continue to directly service MFIs, regardless of which direction the overall industry takes. “[We will] help their needs and wants in whatever way we can,” affirms Kubik. The organization is also partnering with campuses across the nation to start up local chapters with the same vision.

News of microfinance is spreading, and even laypeople can contribute from the comfort of their own home computers through websites like Kiva.org, which connects individual contributors with individual borrowers seeking microcredit for their entrepreneurial activities. Loaned amounts are aggregated and lent to local MFIs at zero percent interest, which, in turn, are then offered at only half the typical microfinance interest rate to local borrowers. Partially circumventing the aforementioned cost restraints, these personal loans function as a free subsidy to MFIs, allowing them to maintain and improve their existing business model—and continue to provide help where they are needed most.

As an approach that targets the roots, microfinance is one that offers a sustainable path out of poverty. It is not charity, and it is not relief. Rather, it is a source of hope that enables and empowers the poor with choices and freedom, both economic and social. For the millions of lives it has changed already, each small loan has been a drop in the ocean. But even single drops form ripples, and ripples combine to form waves, such that there is no action too insignificant: not that of a bank whose entire operating budget is less than the expense account of its corporate peers, not that of an organization of committed twenty-five college students, and not even that of a single economics professor who decided thirty-three years ago to actively confront what he witnessed around him.

Scenes from Chinatown in Argentina

By Fang Yuan

It is currently estimated that there are between 40,000 and 45,000 Chinese residents in Argentina, about half of whom are Taiwanese. According to the latest Argentine Census in 2001, the number of Asians who settled permanently in Argentina was 13,812. Currently, the Chinese residents are concentrated in metropolitan areas. In the Federal Capital, the Chinese population predominates in the neighborhoods (barrios) of Belgrano, Centro, Barrio Norte, Almagro, Constitución and Once.

They are distributed in a more heterogeneous manner in the province of Buenos Aires, in Vicente López, Avellaneda, La Plata, and Burzaco. The Buenos Aires Chinatown is composed of a small area in the neighborhood of Belgrano. It is more commercial than residential, running through four blocks of the streets Arribeños, Mendoza, and Montañeses.

Lift Every Voice and Sing

By Rachel Singh


The Kuumba Singers of Harvard College are adamantly not a Gospel choir. Rather than spreading the word of God, their creed lies in their Swahili name meaning “creativity” or “leaving a place better than you found it.” This secular philosophy of “doing what you can with what you have” replaces the connotations latent in the word “gospel,” the implications of which might limit the group to Christian African Americans. Instead, as noted on the group’s website, the five founders of the choir deliberately chose a Swahili name, “allow[ing] for all modes of Diasporic expression” and rejecting the limitations of the name “Harvard-Radcliffe Gospel Choir.” In the same way that the choir’s founders accounted for the diversity of Black experience, its current leadership has made room in its ranks for singers of all creeds, races, and nationalities. In fact, Kuumba is the only chorus on campus that does not require an audition; all are welcome.

Founded as a safe space for the growing black community on campus in 1970, the choir now includes appreciating black creativity as part of is mission. As one of Harvard’s most talented and prestigious choruses, Kuumba naturally attracts some of the College’s finest singers. But as it is so much more than a choir, membership demands far more than musical ability or even an appreciation for black culture. Beyond just enjoying spirituals or African folk songs, the choir fosters an understanding of where this music came from and the history and experiences that helped create it. As Liz Panarelli ’07, a Kuumba singer who considers herself white, put it like this: broadly, across ethnicities, races and identities, “it would be difficult for someone to fit in, both for themselves and for the choir, without an open mind.” Tabitha Macharia ’08, another singer, agrees. “I hope that everyone comes with… a basic respect for the culture and history that has come before. Respect is encapsulated in a lot of different ways. You come to practice on time...It’s also about respect for other people’s experience. We always make an effort to make sure people learn about other people’s experiences.”

Members remain committed to preserving the safe space and “source of unity and strength for the black students” it has always been. In fact, the warmth of its community has defined and enriched many students’ experiences. Kuumba’s promise of such a welcoming community is often as much of an attraction to new members as its prestigious reputation, broad diversity, and powerful music.

“I was looking for people who were like me… I was looking to be around black people quite frankly.” said Valonda Harris ’09 in describing her choice of Kuumba over other singing groups as a freshman. “At home, everyone looked like me. When I came here, I was trying to involve myself with anything associated with the black community.” But Harris soon discovered that the society she found in Kuumba “had nothing to do with race, I found. The community is so much more meaningful because it’s not built on shared race and political affiliation, but was a community of people who appreciate music and black culture.”

This broadened perspective is a common phenomenon within the group. Members repeatedly declare that “Kuumba is so much more than a choir.” President Naabia Ofosu-Amaah ’07 says, “It’s about a lot more than just singing. I really grew to appreciate, yes, the songs that we sing… but also that we deal with a lot of issues of race, identity, and oppression.”

“I always felt like I had more to learn from being in Kuumba because it is a place where you can talk about really challenging issues with people you care a lot about” said Pannarelli. It was there that she said she learned the difference between telling the truth in a respectful way and being quiet out of political correctness. She maintains that it is important that Kuumba forces its members to confront issues, makes them uncomfortable at times and challenges them to keep learning.

These poignant discussions do more than help members appreciate black culture; in the process, many learn more about themselves. Macharia, originally from Kenya, says joining Kuumba was something of an exploration for her because she initially did not consider herself black. Now, she says, Kuumba has given her something positive to help her become more acquainted with the history of the black people and “has helped me become more secure with my identity….The question of insider/outsider does not really sit on my mind.”

Yet, as evident from the experiences of Macharia and many others, the question inevitably arises as to how much people who are not black can really understand “the black experience.” At some point, Kuumba’s two functions collide and the openness of its membership and discussions can interfere with its provision of a “safe space” for the black community. Every year, the membership has intense discussions on how to reconcile the two missions. According to the leaders, at times it would appear that the choir has failed in providing a safe space because some members who are uncomfortable with “outsiders” always leave. White members have also left because they did not see themselves as capable of fully appreciating the black experience or because they felt they were a detriment to the choir.

Panarelli distinguishes between feeling safe and feeling comfortable. She remarked, “I think that… it’s important for me to feel uncomfortable and for me to be in situations where I don’t fit a mold or don’t belong. I think that is an experience black people often feel and white people don’t. I think it’s important to have that experience. I do not want to have that experience at the cost of other people’s safety in the group… I wouldn’t stay if I didn’t feel overtly welcomed by the group’s leadership… In Kuumba we can maintain a safe space and be uncomfortable and that’s how I reconcile it.”

“People ultimately make a personal choice,” says Macharia. Kuumba’s leadership refuses to make the choice for the group, but attempts to maintain a forum for free discussion of these perhaps irresolvable issues. “It is difficult to be both a black person in the choir with non-white people celebrating black culture and vice versa,” acknowledges Ofosu-Amaah.

A similar problem arises with Kuumba’s selection of gospel music without religious aims. While some Christians have left because of this, others find a way to reconcile their spirituality with the secularism of the choir. Amanda Fields ’09, who identifies as Christian, explains that Kuumba has “turned into a place where I see God moving” and sees it as her personal way of spreading God’s love, whether the audience experiences it in the same way or not. “The songs we sing… a lot of them talk about God and Jesus and the way He moves and my personal feeling is singing that music and being a part of it is a way of understanding it.” At the same time, it does not bother her that non-Christians in the choir sing, not out of spiritual reverence, but out of love for the music itself. “You come to Kuumba with respect for the music and their presence isn’t in any way demeaning to the music,” she said, adding that Kuumba is “a place where you are loved beyond anything else.”

“A lot of the choral music that has been written has been religious. As long as people understand what the purpose of the music is and where it’s coming from…then I think it’s okay for people to sing it,” reasons Ofosu-Amaah, who considers herself “loosely Christian.”

Diversity is never quite the pretty picture painted in college recruiting pamphlets. Oftentimes, embracing one’s own race or cultures comes at the exclusion of others. Harvard certainly boasts a diverse community, but to what extend can members of one culture appreciate and identify with members of another. Kuumba is a unique example of an encounter between different cultures. While these encounters can create some its conflicts and unanswerable questions, it appears that Kuumba’s leadership has been as successful as any multicultural organization can be in both creating a safe space and in fostering an understanding and appreciation of racial issues today. Racial lines blur and the voices of the choir transcend color and experience as members share an appreciation for music that cannot be limited to one group.

May the Force Be With You: A Western Discovery?

By Tara Tai

All around the table are the clink and clatter of chopsticks being put down. My mother sits diagonally from me, fingering the pills by her mug. One of them, I see, is a round, white tablet called Lamisil, terbinafine hydrochloride. She puts it into her mouth and swallows it along with a gulp of Chinese tea.

Then, my mother clears her throat and announces to my brother and me that she is considering taking a local yoga class. “After all, you two are out doing big things and your father spends most of his time in Texas. Since I’ve been in America for so long, I think it’s about time I learned what yoga is.”

I shoot my brother a puzzled glance. My mother had always been a strict adherent to the philosophy that antibiotics are God’s panacea to the world, so yoga…? And when did yoga, a Hindu philosophy, become an American tradition?

Elements of Eastern health therapy are beginning to pervade Western society. Recently, my high school started offering meditation classes. The sale of new extract supplements like ginseng and ginkgo biloba is flourishing in pharmacies and health stores across the nation. And even here in Boston, an increasingly large number of people have switched from coffee to herbal teas—stores such as Teavana and Tealuxe are exploding with business in the Boston and Cambridge area. Tealuxe, for example, which opened in December 1996, has tripled its customer base in just over a decade. What is driving this sudden upsurge of interest in facets of an Eastern lifestyle? Is it for health reasons? Or is it just more of the “Eastern exoticism” that has recently been depicted on so many mainstream pop culture artifacts?

East Meets West
Western interest in Eastern exoticism is hardly a modern phenomenon. As early as 138 B.C.E., the Silk Road already linked Europe and Asia. In the centuries that followed, demand for foreign spices spurred Western explorers Christopher Columbus and Vasco da Gama to find shorter, quicker routes to Asiatic countries. Yet it wasn’t until the early twentieth century that the West started recognizing the East as a potential hotspot for knowledge, and with this recognition came a renewed interest in the East and its disciplines.

By the mid-twentieth century, the development of penicillin and antibiotics was allowing the American population to live longer as a whole. Yet accompanying the blessing of longer life came “unbeatable” disorders such as cancer and later, HIV/AIDS. The changing sees monks perform amazing feats of temperature regulation. He presents his findings in his book titled The Relaxation Response, where he offers a form of meditation accessible to everyone.

Fast-forward to the twenty-first century. The Relaxation Response continues to be a national bestseller, and millions of people in the United States are actively practicing meditation in an alternative attempt to lead a healthier life.

Eastern Exoticism: A Familiar Stranger
So history seems to give us inconclusive answers. On the one hand, transcendental meditation caught on only because the Beatles popularized it. However, the Relaxation Response, based on the same concepts as transcendental meditation, seems to have withstood the test of time.

But to what extent are Eastern and Western medicine incompatible? To what extent is Eastern medicine “other”? According to Kuriyama, in spite of the way in which Eastern health practices may be marketed in the Western world, there actually exist some striking similarities between the two medicinal traditions.

Take breathing, for example. In both Indian and Chinese medicine, control of the breath (the chi) is fundamental to self-transformation, but that breath only connects to the lungs in passing. Circulation of the breath is seen as a holistic movement, something that encompasses the entire body. “Therefore, when someone is ill, the basic idea is that somewhere the chi energy is blocked, which prevents the circulation throughout the entire body,” said Kuriyama.

Looking at this comparatively, we see that Western medicine also charts the flow of oxygen throughout the entire body. When oxygen is cut off from one particular limb, that limb is deprived of an essential, and ultimately becomes useless altogether. What is different here, however, is how the mind is used to focus the breath to various parts of the body. While Western medicine seems to spotlight the lungs when there is a problem with breathing, Eastern medicine utilizes the non-localized power of human concentration as a honing device. Skilled regulators of the breath can even demonstrate seemingly impossible feats of temperature control. According to Harrington, “Some Buddhist monks can produce enough heat to dry cold, wet sheets during meditation.”

Another parallel is the network of conduits that acupuncturists follow to direct chi. This network actually corresponds to Hippocrates network of veins by which medieval doctors let blood. Surprisingly, neither network resembles the actual network of blood vessels. According to Kuriyama, the modern consensus is that acupuncture was actually derived from bloodletting. What is different, though, is the nature of the treatments based on this network. Chinese therapies concentrate on retention of fluids such as chi, while the prime concern of European practitioners throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was evacuation of poisons. Only recently has Western medicine targeted retention.

One Way or Many?
Perhaps Eastern medicine is not as exotic as we believe it to be. Maybe we have been working towards a convergence of Western and Eastern practices for quite a while, and it has only started to clearly shine through now. Throughout the twentieth century, many Eastern practices were adopted, and merely renamed to be more accepted by the public. Benson’s relaxation response is one example of this. Subtle movements were and still are at hand, however. As Harrington points out, the popular movie series, Star Wars, is filled with the “East Meets West” concept: Yoda is the ancient wiseman teaching the young, white Luke Skywalker about the force. Qui-gon Jinn, the greatest Jedi alive, has a name eerily similar to qigong, a form of Chinese healing. In light of all this, perhaps we are only now recognizing Eastern medicine for what it truly is: whether trend or science, the East retains a wealth of knowledge from which the West can learn.

What Kind of Statement?

Earlier last year, Kate Moss appeared on the cover of the September 21 issue of the UK publication The Independent. No, she wasn’t modeling the latest in haute couture from the runways, or even the new line of jeans from Calvin Klein. Rather, she was photographed naked... save for the blackface and the full-on bodypaint. While the issue was meant to educate readers about the struggles of African women and actually benefited the RED initiative, with half of its revenue going to the Global Fund to fight HIV/AIDS in Africa, at times, the controversy over the appropriateness of the photo of Kate Moss seemed to dominate public discussion. The day after the release of the issue, black British writer Hannah Pool opined in the Guardian, “This picture of Moss is little more than a cheap, old-fashioned blacking-up trick, and the fact that it is being used to highlight the battle against AIDS in Africa is a disgrace.” She went on to question: “What exactly is this picture of Moss-as-African-woman supposed to portray? What does it say about race today when a quality newspaper decides that its readers will only relate to Africa through a blacked-up white model rather than a real-life black woman?”

The publication of the photo led D&D to wonder: What qualifies something as art? Should art be immune from charges of racism or insensitivity? When is imagery provocative and subversive? And when is it just miscalculated and uninspiring? Why is it okay for Kate Moss to cover herself in black bodypaint to demonstrate just how enlightened and worldly she is? And how might we differently interpret a photo of a black person donning white bodypaint?

Chinese Tattoos

Thinking about getting a trendy Chinese character tattoo? D&D cautions that in beauty lies peril: the peril of living with a misspelled character for a very, very long time. Observe closely these correctly written exemplars.

On the World Wide Web: D&D Recommends...

Firstgiving.com
Firstgiving.com is an online portal that allows you to personally raise money for any tax-exempt non-profit organization. You can design your page and personalize your message with pictures and comments. Money donated through the website goes directly to the organization, and donors can leave messages with their contributions. You can link to the page from your own blog or website, or mail out the link to friends and family. The site capitalizes on the idea that people are more likely to give to causes that are familiar to them; charities that they can personally connect to through their friends and family. The innovative social networking aspect and outlet for creative promotion puts charitable giving in a whole new light.

Media that Matters Film Festival
mediathatmattersfest.org
“An image captures a feeling, a story shares a message, a movie becomes a movement. Media That Matters brings you 16 inspiring films by youth and independent filmmakers committed to changing the world, in 8 minutes or less.” Each June, Media that Matters presents short films made by independent filmmakers under the age of 21 that span a variety of social justice issues, from racial justice to the environment to health advocacy. If you miss their film festival launch and Media in Action Workshop in New York, you can catch all of the winning films on their website. Striking and socially conscious, each eight minutes of film has the capacity to spark a lifetime of introspection, discussion, and activism.

Magnum Photography: InMotion
inmotion.magnumphotos.com
Magnum is an international co-operative of photographers that provides stunning pictures of a wide range of events, cultures, and social topics. Decades worth of pictures are housed in the online archives, but the real pleasure is watching the photo essays, slide shows, and video podcasts that are available on their InMotion feature. The diversity of perspectives and topics are apparent on the InMotion homepage: today, it’s a travelogue of Tokyo (“Tokyo Love Hello”), the “Bitter Fruit” of mourning Iraqi soldiers’ death in small town America, and a photo essay on silence—from social movements to mental disorder—called “No Whisper No Sigh.” Enlightening, empowering, and beautiful, these features break down the barriers between pictures and words, thought and feeling.

Blackness in a Box: A REVIEW of Beyond Beats and Rhymes: A Hip-Hop Head Weighs in on Manhood in Rap Music

By Tess Hamilton


“I WANT TO MAKE IT CLEAR: I LOVE HIP-HOP."
These days, it is getting easier and easier to criticize hip-hop for its skewed portrayal of black culture, its hypersexualized images of women, and its rampant homophobia. Easier to criticize the producers and executives who denigrate black culture for commercial gain. Easier to criticize the lyrics, the videos, the concerts. In Beyond Beats and Rhymes, however, filmmaker Byron Hurt forces us to examine our own complicity in the marketing and consumption of hip-hop by showing how mainstream hip-hop constrains men and women, black and white. The documentary avoids the cheap shots and straw men that would be so easy to find with out-of-context sound bites and street corner ambushes.

Hurt opts instead to explore hip-hop from the inside out, through sustained discussions with hip-hop artists—professional and amateur—and producers, and honest interviews with consumers and academics. Tied together with the director’s introspective narration and insightful archival footage—everything from Hurt’s flattop days as a Northwestern football player in the early 1990s to scenes from Birth of a Nation—the film is a nuanced discussion on the challenges and triumphs of hip-hop. It is clear throughout the film that Hurt is looking for constructive change on a personal, painful journey to reclaim the music he loves.

"WHY CAN'T WE ALL JUST WALK AROUND AND SMILE AT EACH OTHER?"
Mainstream rap has become synonymous with the commodification of women, exploiting females’ bodies for commercial gain. But rarely do we think of the ways in which the black American entertainment industry works to commercialize black masculinity in order to move records, boost sales, and draw in white male listeners. Men become objects in much the same way that women do, and the music serves to create and reinforce a set of expectations and behaviors that are ultimately destructive for both sexes. Hurt describes black masculinity in rap music as a box, a prison that limits the movement, growth, and creative expression of black males. Aggression and anger play themselves out in the form of sexual assault, abuse, and gang violence, only to be codified in the next new release. People, especially non-blacks first being exposed to “black culture” through hip-hop, come to expect young black men to adhere to a certain set of behaviors, and black men come to expect it of themselves and each other. Hurt’s interviews with aspiring rappers show an artistic environment where homosexuality is a taboo, but rape isn’t.

Many of the interviewees point to the larger culture—the American love affair with guns and burly, heterosexual men, fighting to protect home and country that makes violent hip-hop emotionally and commercially attractive. Rapper Jadakiss, in fact, seems particularly confused by the concern over hypermasculinity: “You watch movies? What kind of movies do you watch?” he asks the interviewer, referencing the violence and masculine posturing that pervades American blockbuster films. Hurt makes it clear, though, that this American archetype has been largely distorted in hip-hop culture, and in black culture in general. It is true that hip-hop arose as a response to systematic urban violence, economic depression, and powerlessness in the face of structural change and racial antagonism, but the film makes it clear that the days of uplifting social commentary are largely gone and increasingly being replaced by anger and antagonism directed inwards—towards women, towards gays, and towards other black men. He brings up the rise of black animosity—where camaraderie among blacks has given way to short tempers, feuds, and murders, only to be exploited in battle performances and hip-hop promotion.

"I KNOW HE'S NOT TALKING TO ME."
The objectification of women does get another look later in the film, but not in the way one might expect. Hurt spares no words when describing the effect of hip-hop on women, particularly black women. He frames it in terms of victimization: rape, physical abuse, and sexual assault. Instead of merely opining on footage from Nelly’s “Tip Drill” video—in which the rapper slides a credit card in a woman’s behind—Hurt turns his cameras on young men and women at Black Entertainment Television’s (BET) Spring Bling spring break concert event to see how the behaviors celebrated in hip-hop have influenced gender relations outside of video sets. As the film reveals, there often seems to be no line between flirtation and assault in interactions between men and women. In one interview, a man justifies his use of words like “bitch” and “ho” to describe the women at the event, saying that they dress and act the part; the women there weren’t “sisters,” but willing sex objects, and they had it coming. While this segment alone might have been enough for many filmmakers, Hurt does not let the women off so easy.

One scene is particularly effective, for it has the makings of a farce: A woman and her friends, in bikinis and shorts that barely hide the matching bottoms, speak into the camera about how they are exempt from the exploitation and denigration of black women in hip-hop videos. “I know he’s not talking to me [when they refer to women as bitches or hos],” one says, continuing, “We are classy women” just trying to enjoy the weather. The camera then pans out to show men—at least three—with video cameras pointed at the woman’s backside and those of her equally scantily clad friends. The men were taping these women’s asses in real time, some on recording equipment that could have rivaled that of the filmmaker. It was serious. And it happened over and over again. While some women were up to modeling for the cameras, others screamed and tried to assault the aspiring filmmakers. It was clear that the behavior of some women was producing expectations for other women, giving rise to a dynamic just as confining and just as commercialized as the branded masculinity offered in hip-hop. This dynamic confirmed that the treatment of only a few video girls can reflect on all black and brown women, whether they want it to or not.

"OUR MICROPHONE TO THE WORLD."
Hurt recognizes the commercial pressures facing contemporary hip-hop artists and urges his audience to raise their expectations and think more critically about the effects of hip-hop lyrics, images, and artist behavior on their own lives. “The real change will come from consumers who demand it, who boycott it,” he said in a Q&A session after the film. In interviews with aspiring artists outside of a hip-hop conference in New York, Hurt took issue with the rappers over their lyrics. In response, the young men explained that they could not find producers or record labels who wanted to hear the truth. As one man noted, record deals aren’t forthcoming to those who “speak righteous.” Another man jokingly suggested that instead of rapping about selling drugs, he could tell the truth, in his songs: “I sold water last summer—holla!” The humor and insight of these men, as captured by Hurt, didn’t match the expletive-laden, angry demos they had in hand, but the men nonetheless felt that they had few other options for distribution or airtime; the overwhelming sentiment was that hip-hop artists had to conform or be marginalized.

It is important to take back hip-hop from the commercial exploitation of black violence, poverty, and death because, apart from the destructive consequences the music has for blacks themselves, this is what the world sees of black culture when we export Top 40 music. Ultimately, Hurt is hopeful that his film and the conversations it inspires will help change the state of hip-hop today. The innovative and genuine approach of the documentary seems to be doing that already, sparking discussion on mailing lists and eliciting an encore showing at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. As Hurt put it at the Q&A session, “We have to raise our voices, expect more from artists, more from fellow consumers, more from corporate structures. We have to do what Frederick Douglass said: “Agitate, agitate, agitate!” [We have to] push, prod, and ask questions; not settle for anything less. Continue to raise awareness. I don’t want hip-hop to die; I want to breathe life into it.”

That’s love.

Ten Thousand Villages: From One Family to Another

By Alli Chandra


The light catches the beautiful white luster of the stone carving you are holding. The stone is cool and smooth, depicting a mother holding her child. If this were any other store, you would know how this product came to sit in your hands. If this were any other store, it would have been designed by someone sitting in a cubicle; then passed down to engineering; then manufactured in a factory; then shipped in a truck; then tagged by a barcode; and, finally, placed on a shelf where it sat until it caught your eye.

But this isn’t just any other store. This is Ten Thousand Villages, and behind the creation of each product is a face with a story. In this case, it is the story of Athanas Matoke Sure, an artisan from the Tabaka region of Kenya. Everyday, he sits in the brilliant Kenyan sun with twelve of his colleagues, carefully crafting each piece using only traditional tools, materials, and skills. Sure makes a good living; he and his fellow artisans are able to feed and clothe their families with ease. In a country where the per capita income is no more than a meager $360, this is no small feat.

A VILLAGE’S BEGINNINGS & GROWTH
In 1946, during a visit to Puerto Rico with the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), the relief and development agency of the Mennonite Church, Edna Ruth Byler met a group of women who were sewing beautiful handicraft items. Upon learning that the women were also living in dire poverty, Byler decided to buy their handicrafts and resell them in her basement back home in Akron, Pennsylvania. Soon, she was buying handicrafts from other artisans in need, including woodenware from Haitians and cross-stitching from Palestinian refugees.

In the 1970s, this fair-trade store became too large to be contained in Byler’s basement and became an official program of the MCC, named SELFHELP Crafts of the World. In 1996, the store’s owners, inspired by the Mahatma Gandhi quote, “India is not to be found in its few cities but in the 700,000 villages,” renamed the store Ten Thousand Villages. What was once just a fledgling operation had become, 50 years later, an established organization, helping people like Sure all over the world.

Today, Ten Thousand Villages is a non-profit independent organization. It has 76 stores—including one in Cambridge—and its products are carried in an additional 160 locations in the United States and Canada. Ten Thousand works with artisans in 32 countries and enjoys an annual profit of over twenty million dollars. In 2005, highlighting its increased popularity and continued growth, Ten Thousand was able to increase the volume of its purchases from artisans by one million dollars.

HOW TEN THOUSAND FINDS ITS ARTISANS
“[As a fair-trade organization], we purchase handicrafts, home décor, and gifts from artisans from developing countries, mostly in Africa, Asia, and Latin America,” said Lisa Stratton, marketing manager for Ten Thousand Villages. According to Stratton, “A lot of the groups we currently work with are relationships [that were] started through MCC… We also have country representatives in a lot of the countries that we work. They often work on job creation with local artisans [and can] recommend a group to Ten Thousand Villages. Sometimes, a Peace Corp volunteer comes back and says, ‘I think that these rug weavers from Kenya would be a great group for you to purchase from.’”

According to Stratton, Ten Thousand sends an employee to an area to assess conditions before deciding to work with any artisan group. First of all, the group must be in their target population: “artisan groups from the poorest sectors of society.” While acknowledging that, in certain countries, a majority of the people live in poverty, Stratton notes that Ten Thousand tries “to work with a specific group of disadvantaged people,” whether that be women afflicted with HIV, or people who have physical or mental handicaps, or an ethnic group that has been discriminated against in society. Next, the buyer tries to ascertain if the artisans “have the capacity to make what [Ten Thousand] needs to sell.” That is, are the products marketable? Ten Thousand Villages’ buyers continue to visit each artisan group at least once a year to speak with the artisans directly and to ensure that workers aren’t being exploited.

Once Ten Thousand Villages has identified artisans, it seeks to create long-term, sustainable relationships with them. As Fiorella Triaca, the owner of the Ten Thousand Villages store in Cambridge, points out, “We don’t find that it’s fair for people not to have continuity; if you buy only once, you don’t make any difference in their life.”


THE ESSENCE OF FAIR TRADE
After an artisan group has been selected, a product is designed. Oftentimes, an indigenous product is already marketable in the United States; if not, the artisans work with Ten Thousand designers to create one. Even before the product is actually made, “an artisan group can receive up to 50% of the money upfront,” said Stratton. By the time the product is en route to Ten Thousand’s headquarters in Akron, Pennsylvania, the artisans have already received the payment in full. Thus, by the time the handicraft reaches a store, it has already made an impact on some artisan’s life.

The price paid to the artisans is determined via a negotiation between the artisan group and the buyer. According to Stratton, “The price [we pay to the artisan] is based on the cost of the local labor market and costs. Sometimes, the price is too low. For example, a group will believe the wild grass they picked for a basket was free but they hadn’t figured the amount of time they spent picking the grass as a part of the cost of the basket. So we will pay them more than they are asking. Sometimes, a price will be too high. There, we work with the artisan group… to create a new, more affordable design.”

This design essentially turns the artisans into entrepreneurs and, in some cases, supports an entire system of people with work. Athanas Matake Sure is a very clear example of this entreprennneurship and its extent: “Behind us there is a big line of people. The people who work at the quarry, the people who are contracted to bring us the stone, the women who sandstone… You kill the person at the head, you kill all the people behind.”

THE PEOPLE OF TEN THOUSAND VILLAGES
Ten Thousand Villages is still, at its core, a business. In order to forge this essentially direct connection between artisans and consumers— and to retain as a large an amount of money for the artisans as possible—Ten Thousand depends on many thousands of volunteers. In fact, there are almost as many volunteers as paid employees working at Ten Thousand Villages.

On a recent visit to the local Cambridge store, there were several volunteers helping out. One of those volunteers, Leslie Kilduff, a middle school teacher, first discovered Ten Thousand Villages when she was doing research on Co-Op America and green businesses. “I just loved what they were selling and their mission. It’s a very good cause, and a great way to inform [people],” she said, as she carefully unwrapped delicate jewelry boxes glimmering with hand-embroidered mirrors. Ted Bergey, another volunteer, nodded his head in agreement. He arranged the jewelry boxes on a shelf inside the store, as he spoke: “I got started through my Church. I’m a Mennonite originally from Pennsylvania, and I remember Mrs. Byler. She had these things in her basement that she had gotten from abroad. She loved them and thought they would sell well, so she had these things in her basement. After I retired, I needed things to do, and I always want to help others. I feel like I’m truly making a difference here.”

Many of the customers that shop at Ten Thousand Villages are aware of the store’s purpose. When asked why they were shopping at Ten Thousand instead of another store, customers replied, “I want to buy presents that have meaning in the world,” “I feel like I’m making a contribution,” and “I’m supporting arts and crafts from other countries.” For many customers, the idea of fair-trade is just as important as the quality of the products themselves. As one customer put it, fair-trade means a “reasonable exchange.” Others noted, “Somebody’s getting value for their labor” and “You don’t pay people five cents for their work.” While most of the clientele seemed acutely aware of Ten Thousand Villages’ purpose, even those who knew less seemingly knew enough; a slightly fish-out-ofwater teenage girl replied, “My sister is the one who really knows about this political stuff. But I do know where it’s coming from. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t spend so much.”

By simply walking into the Cambridge store, one can sense the vitality and genuine purpose of the organization. Just as important as the glimmering handicrafts and the pulsating music played in the store are pictures and quotes from the artisans. For example, an informational bookmark depicts a photo of Illies Mahmoud, a silver artisan from Niger who visited the store last year to demonstrate how he makes his jewelry.

Elsewhere in the store, a picture of Laskmi Devi, who works with 64 other women in India to create beautiful woven cloths, is on display next to her handicraft. These designs are intentional, showcasing Ten Thousand’s genuine desire to spread awareness. Cambridge owner Triaca stresses, “[We want to] talk to people about what we do, we really try to educate people to the mission.” She want on to explain, “We want people to buy something for their family [and realize] they are helping someone in another family.”

The Cambridge location of Ten Thousand Villages is in Central Square, at 694 Massachusetts Avenue.

On the Commodification of Culture

Etc.

Dear Readers,

Earlier this year, I attended a bazaar featuring fair-trade handicrafts from indigenous peoples around the world. As I stood by a stall, taking in the sights of the colorful wares and the sounds of the bustling crowds, I overheard a conversation between a customer and a vendor. The customer had just purchased a small, hand-embroidered pillowcase made in Laos and wanted to know where she could buy an appropriately sized pillow. The vendor replied that she could check out any crafts store or, better yet, Wal-Mart, where “you can get pillows for a lot cheaper.”

To me, that conversation really highlighted some of the nagging concerns that I have about what influences and motivates us to consume in the ways we do. Here was this woman who had just purchased a handmade pillowcase from Laos. Certainly, from a material perspective, the appeal of the pillowcase, with its exquisite embroidery, was apparent. But what role did its provenance play in inducing the woman to purchase it? And did it not seem somehow incongruous that was she now going to stuff that pillowcase with a pillow from Wal-Mart?

In his 1899 book, The Theory of the Social Class, the economist and sociologist Thorstein Veblen coined the term “conspicuous consumption” to describe the consumption habits of elements
of the upper class who use their wealth to flaunt their social power. These days, with our most basic needs met, the surplus purchases that we make are as likely to fulfill a social imperative as they are to satisfy any kind of utilitarian need. In an increasingly commodified culture, we have come to assert our identities through the purchases that we make.

It is difficult enough to establish a fair-trade price for agricultural goods like bananas and coffee beans, but it seems to me that the task becomes infinitely more difficult when one must determine a “fair-trade” price for artistic works. This difficulty became apparent to me when I came across woven goods for sale at the bazaar, produced by the same community of Mayan women in Chiapas, Mexico where I had worked and studied over the summer. The price of the goods, in the course of their trip up North, had increased sevenfold. On the one hand, this seemed to me patently outrageous. On the other hand, this markup allowed the vendor to bring authentic artisanal crafts to an audience that would otherwise not have access to them. So what exactly is a fair price to charge?

More broadly, to what extent can culture be commodified? And is this a good thing? This issue of D&D explores some of the tensions between majority and minority cultures.

Sincerely,
Frankie Chen

Winter 2007