For those of you who helped out with the Imagining Ourselves project (and that's a lot of you), you'll be pleased to know it won another award...the Voices of Courage award.
You'll note from the link that it appears to be an award for an individual. But what I said in my acceptance speech (which I actually had team members read as I was unable to fly to SF for the ceremony) is that I was accepting the award on behalf of the literally thousands of people in more than 100 countries whose acts of generosity made the project's success possible. It's extremely humbling when we step back and think about how profoundly dependent we all are on one another, and how the little things we do (that we don't even take seriously ourselves, usually) add up to huge impact. If you even spent a second forwarding the website to friends, that's the kind of thing I'm talking about. You helped. We depended on that kind of thing.
Thank you.
Thursday, 29 May 2008
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Dunkin Donuts pulls Keffiyah ads
Loyal blog readers (of which there are clearly millions for my blog) will remember a key previous post on keffiyahs and the seeming oddness of them popping up as a purely commercial fashion symbol across Europe.
So particularly bizarre today to see (thanks, Lee) that Duncan Donuts has pulled an ad showing Rachael Ray in a keffiyah because conservative commentators said it was "too Arab."
There are too many bizarre things to point out here. So I'll let you discern them all for yourselves.
So particularly bizarre today to see (thanks, Lee) that Duncan Donuts has pulled an ad showing Rachael Ray in a keffiyah because conservative commentators said it was "too Arab."
There are too many bizarre things to point out here. So I'll let you discern them all for yourselves.
Monday, 26 May 2008
body language and home
Okay, so the real reason I haven't written in a few months is that... I admit it... I've fallen for London.
Is it home? I don't know. (Probably not, although you never know.) Do I love it here? Yes. I love the long spring days, the feeling of being at the world's doorstep, the unbelievable plethora of amazing art to see and watch and hear, the level of debate and concern about what's going on in the world, the stained-glassed windows on the buildings on my street, the open-air markets in Hackney, the wonderfully creative programs on the radio right now, nearly midnight on a Monday...
And when you feel at home and comfortable, you tend to notice things just a little bit less, and feel less of a need to comment on (or criticize) your surroundings.
I realized this when, the other day at the office, a new American volunteer walked in and introduced herself. She entered the room chest held slightly high, a big beaming smile, a sort of here-i-am body language, and gave everyone a big wave.
And my own body, involuntary, recoiled. Not in horror or shock, but a kind of confusion. It was a moment of cognitive dissonance. I've adjusted, physically, to being here-- or so this moment taught me. More loud, typically American, body language was momentarily unfamiliar to me. And in a split second, I realized it shouldn't be unfamiliar, and placed it. But there was this moment where I couldn't tell whether the culture she was coming from was my culture-- and then somehow the memory kicked in that it indeed was.
Amazing how adaptable human beings are.
(And amazing how much of a simultaneous blessing and burden it is to keep moving from place to place and culture to culture... and keep readjusting. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this routine up.)
Is it home? I don't know. (Probably not, although you never know.) Do I love it here? Yes. I love the long spring days, the feeling of being at the world's doorstep, the unbelievable plethora of amazing art to see and watch and hear, the level of debate and concern about what's going on in the world, the stained-glassed windows on the buildings on my street, the open-air markets in Hackney, the wonderfully creative programs on the radio right now, nearly midnight on a Monday...
And when you feel at home and comfortable, you tend to notice things just a little bit less, and feel less of a need to comment on (or criticize) your surroundings.
I realized this when, the other day at the office, a new American volunteer walked in and introduced herself. She entered the room chest held slightly high, a big beaming smile, a sort of here-i-am body language, and gave everyone a big wave.
And my own body, involuntary, recoiled. Not in horror or shock, but a kind of confusion. It was a moment of cognitive dissonance. I've adjusted, physically, to being here-- or so this moment taught me. More loud, typically American, body language was momentarily unfamiliar to me. And in a split second, I realized it shouldn't be unfamiliar, and placed it. But there was this moment where I couldn't tell whether the culture she was coming from was my culture-- and then somehow the memory kicked in that it indeed was.
Amazing how adaptable human beings are.
(And amazing how much of a simultaneous blessing and burden it is to keep moving from place to place and culture to culture... and keep readjusting. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this routine up.)
Monday, 7 April 2008
Huffington Post: Delivering Hope
A piece I wrote on an amazing trailblazer, Simone Honikman, working on post-partum depression in South Africa.
It's here.
It's here.
Saturday, 5 April 2008
Overestimating Difference
The other day at dinner, a friend of mine was describing her brother to me, who tended to be very conservative politically. "He'd hate you," she said to me, "He hates me, and I'm liberal, but I'm not nearly as liberal as you are, so he'd hate you more." To which I flinched. "Are you sure," I asked her, "that you actually know my political views?"
This was not an unusual event for me. Over the past month, in both overt and not-so-overt ways, I have had many people express their assumptions to me about my political views. The basic presupposition is that I'm an extreme leftist. They probably infer that since I worked with a women's museum, come from San Francisco, and am getting a PhD (in anthropology no less) that I must be a pretty darn liberal. Logical enough, I suppose, but in point of fact, off the mark. (And if you question that, then you, too, should ask me what my views are.)
On a similar note, last month, I was interviewing a fairly prominent US political figure-- whose faith and religious motivation is well-known in motivating him to work on global poverty issues. He spent about half the interview with me reassuring me that efforts to have motivations that aren't limited to religious Christians, and that are also bi-partisan and multi-faith in foundation. All fair enough, except that I hadn't uttered a word to him that would indicate I would have a problem with acting from a foundation of Christian ethics...or Republican values. By the way he kept referring to my work with the museum and on human rights work, I can only infer that he had read my bio and made (what probably seemed like reasonable) assumptions about the politics that followed from my professional trajectory... or perhaps my last name.
Except again- he got it wrong by assuming that I would judge him, and made me in fact feel more uncomfortable than if he had just shared his motivations in a more straightforward manner.
We can't avoid making assumptions about people-- we do it all the time, unconsciously even. And often times it helps. Before I give a speech at a university, I always ask my hosts to give me a rough demographic breakdown of the audience so I know roughly who I'm speaking to and can fine-tune the presentation accordingly.
But there are things we shouldn't assume we know about people. We should never assume, for example, that someone will be judgmental about our own views, and thus feel the need to water them down. The US political figure with whom I talked revealed far more to me about his own insecurities and self-perceptions than he would have had he just played it straight.
We should never assume we know someone's politics unless they've actually told us their politics.
And finally, and most basically, we should never simplify the complexity and robustness of someone else's point of view or their ability to understand the opposite perspective. In yet another interview, a leading UK NGO figure told me about a trip he took to Africa with prominent conservative US politicians. "It was our chance," he said, "to size up our enemy, so to speak. To feel them out." But then he told me this beautiful story about how his organization actually learned a thing or two, about return on investment and other matters, from the people he'd assumed he'd needed to teach. And he also found his counterparts, the so-called 'enemies', to be extremely intelligent, reasonably open-minded, very decent people.
Which all goes to show that we often construct in our heads far more distance from people than actually exists in real life.
This was not an unusual event for me. Over the past month, in both overt and not-so-overt ways, I have had many people express their assumptions to me about my political views. The basic presupposition is that I'm an extreme leftist. They probably infer that since I worked with a women's museum, come from San Francisco, and am getting a PhD (in anthropology no less) that I must be a pretty darn liberal. Logical enough, I suppose, but in point of fact, off the mark. (And if you question that, then you, too, should ask me what my views are.)
On a similar note, last month, I was interviewing a fairly prominent US political figure-- whose faith and religious motivation is well-known in motivating him to work on global poverty issues. He spent about half the interview with me reassuring me that efforts to have motivations that aren't limited to religious Christians, and that are also bi-partisan and multi-faith in foundation. All fair enough, except that I hadn't uttered a word to him that would indicate I would have a problem with acting from a foundation of Christian ethics...or Republican values. By the way he kept referring to my work with the museum and on human rights work, I can only infer that he had read my bio and made (what probably seemed like reasonable) assumptions about the politics that followed from my professional trajectory... or perhaps my last name.
Except again- he got it wrong by assuming that I would judge him, and made me in fact feel more uncomfortable than if he had just shared his motivations in a more straightforward manner.
We can't avoid making assumptions about people-- we do it all the time, unconsciously even. And often times it helps. Before I give a speech at a university, I always ask my hosts to give me a rough demographic breakdown of the audience so I know roughly who I'm speaking to and can fine-tune the presentation accordingly.
But there are things we shouldn't assume we know about people. We should never assume, for example, that someone will be judgmental about our own views, and thus feel the need to water them down. The US political figure with whom I talked revealed far more to me about his own insecurities and self-perceptions than he would have had he just played it straight.
We should never assume we know someone's politics unless they've actually told us their politics.
And finally, and most basically, we should never simplify the complexity and robustness of someone else's point of view or their ability to understand the opposite perspective. In yet another interview, a leading UK NGO figure told me about a trip he took to Africa with prominent conservative US politicians. "It was our chance," he said, "to size up our enemy, so to speak. To feel them out." But then he told me this beautiful story about how his organization actually learned a thing or two, about return on investment and other matters, from the people he'd assumed he'd needed to teach. And he also found his counterparts, the so-called 'enemies', to be extremely intelligent, reasonably open-minded, very decent people.
Which all goes to show that we often construct in our heads far more distance from people than actually exists in real life.
Tuesday, 25 March 2008
Gives New Meaning to the Phrase "Lie Back and Think of England"
Amusing item for sale in a local drugstore... durex limited edition england supporter condoms. I particularly like the photo of Foosball soccer players on the cover-- very sexy indeed. If anything represents masculinity, it's got to be Foosball soccer players, wouldn't you say?
It is, thank heavens, made with recyclable packaging. Good to be environmentally aware while supporting England through your sex life.
A brief explanation on the back cover. "'Durex England Supporter' is a limited edition assortment of condoms designed to maximise your fun in the bedroom." Followed by a series of legal disclaimers about how even though the condoms are designed to prolong ejaculation, if they don't help you, it may be due to a condition that requires medical supervision.
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