(to all of my regular blog readers - I'm sorry to go off of my usual subjects, like fat cats and chubby babies, but I feel the need to express my views on a topic that hits close to home for me. I promise to return to my regular blogging shortly!)
There's been a topic that's been discussed around the blog world recently. It started out with a preview of an adorable fabric from Heather Ross' upcoming line. I "squee!"-d when I saw it. A drawing of 3 little girls playing with horses. I didn't play with horses as a girl but I loved the innocence captured in her simple drawing. Who doesn't remember being so into something that you lived and breathed it 24/7? It also reminded of the joy I see through Baby J on a daily basis.
Then the grumblings happened. People were asking Heather Ross why she didn't included more skin tones in her drawings, or even boys. Here was her response:
Thanks for all of your comments! I just wanted to offer an explanation for my subject matter to those who expressed a desire to see the children in my prints as more diverse in terms of gender or race. This particular print is a great example of me drawing from memory, trying to re-capture a small moment in my own life. Since I was a pale little girl with a dark haired twin sister and a red-headed mother, those are the colors that usually end up in my palate. The period of my life that has informed this particular artwork was one in which my sister and I were very far away from any other kids, with the summertime exception of our girl cousins (the boys were playing D & D all night and slept til noon every day, so they don’t show up in many of my drawings either).
I guess I never think about my drawings of children being representative of every child, if I did I would certainly give the importance of diversity in every aspect of fine art more thought. On the other hand, I’ve developed a certain amount of defensiveness about choosing my own subject matter. In my licensing days I was often asked to draw things that I couldn’t relate to or hadn’t any real personal experience with. I found that this led to a period of my career that was wholly unsatisfying, during which I created some of my least favorite fabric prints and artwork. And to make it worse, I was working full time and making very little money. We’re talking a dollar or two an hour, here. Really. It was only when I allowed those licensing contracts to end and began to draw the things that mattered to me, things that I actually understood, that I began to love my job, which I do now, whole-heartedly. I also believe that I became a much better artist. Interestingly, it also marks the beginning of when I actually started to make some money. Hmmmmm….
Still, I apologize for offending or upsetting anyone or making anyone feel left out. That certainly wasn’t my goal. I was six or seven when I realized that the reason for art is to make you feel something. Maybe art school would have matured my perspective here, I guess I’m still clinging to my six year old self’s opinions, but I’ve never been able to see the point of making people feel anything but happy.
To me, this was a perfectly logical explanation. Artists (I include Heather Ross in this category) don't need to justify what they create. In fact, I would rather have someone pull from their own upbringing and culture to create art than to force their art to meet other people's expectations of what that art should look like.
Now, here's where the topic started to rub me the wrong way. On Flint Knits, Pam invited Ashley Shannon to speak on the topic in an essay entitled, "On Privilege and Ponies". Please read it in its entirety, but to sum up her essay, Ashley is (was?) a big Heather Ross fan. When she saw the aforementioned fabric, she was thrilled because she used to play with Breyer Horses as a child. A friend of her mentioned that she wishes there was a black girl in the fabric because her niece is black, and Ashley had this to say:
And then I had one of those annoying but necessary moments where I realized that my white-lady privilege had completely blinded me to something that is obviously problematic about something I love — which, that is what privilege does, and so the thing you have to do with privilege is try really hard to find out where your blind spots are, try to make those blind spots as small as possible, and, when someone points those blind spots out to you, you don’t say “BUT I AM RIGHT!” You say, “oh man, I FUCKED UP.” So, here’s me saying exactly that: I fucked up, looking at that print, because my initial reaction to it was “why isn’t it more like meeeeeeeeeeee?” When in fact it was entirely like me, because I am a white girl in America, and my family was well-enough off when I was a kid to buy me an entire stableful of Breyer horses, and 99.9% of representations of human beings in the media, in popular culture, in politics and, especially, in the crafting world, are about me and people who look like me and people who exist in the same socioeconomic stratum as me. I fucked that up. And I will remember that I fucked it up, and next time, I will try harder not to fuck it up.
And then Ashley condemns Heather Ross for her response to people's requests for a more diverse skin palette in her work by saying the following:
Seriously, listen up, Heather Ross: no one is asking you to draw, like, the Lower Ninth Ward, or Hamsterdam, or how it feels to be made fun of because your name isn’t “American,” or how it feels to live in a culture that tells you every single fucking day of your life that you’re ugly because your hair isn’t straight and silky and blonde. No one is asking for that. No one is asking you to step outside of your own lived experience for even two seconds when it comes to the subject matter that you put on your fabrics. What they’re asking for is for you a) to be aware that there are plenty of little girls of color who liked, and continue to like, the same stuff you liked as a kid, and b) to reflect that awareness by using more than one color on your palette when it comes to creating skin tones, and by making infinitesimal changes to faces and hairstyles on a few (not even all! really! just some!) of the little girls that you draw, and possibly even by changing some of them to little boys, who also like dogs and ponies and mermaids and princesses and VW campers.
I have to say that this statement made me feel more of a minority than I have in a long time. A woman, with self professed "white-lady" privilege has told me that the American CULTURE thinks I'm less than a blond-haired, blued eyes ideal. To be honest, I thought I was part of the American culture. And am I really being told everyday that I'm ugly? That I'm being made fun of because my name isn't "American"? Wow, my life must suck! Why can't I be white too?
Is this what people whose skin tones don't fit the norm feel like? From my point of view, no, not at all. It's true, I've searched hard my whole life to find a community who accepts me for who I am. Growing up as a 3/4 Japanese 1/4 Russian freckled faced girl I never had any representation of me in any sort of media. I will admit that being a minority within a minority was hard at times. Really, does anyone else know a Japanese Russian woman? But finally, at the ripe old age of 37, I feel like I have a wonderful community of open minded amazing people to rely on. From all walks of life and all cultures. Part of that community is the wonderful crafting community I have found. But I didn't look to the media or society to find my identity. I looked to myself.
To me, the biggest problem with this argument is the question of skin color. When I first saw the fabric, I didn't think, "What cute white girls!" I thought, "What cute girls!" That's the way I hope most other people view the world. If there was a fabric (made by a Japanese artist) that had Japanese girls wearing kimonos, I hope people's reaction would be, "What cute girls!" not "What cute Japanese girls in kimonos!"
To truly create a culture of social change, we need to get away from skin color as a definition of diversity. Really. The color of one's skin doesn't define us. To me, it is the CULTURE that we own that defines us.
What is culture? I like this definition of culture: "the integrated pattern of human knowledge, belief, and behavior that depends upon the capacity for learning and transmitting knowledge to succeeding generations". When we use "culture" as a means to define diversity, you know what happens? We are all minorities! Think about it - is there another person that has the same exact knowledge, belief and behavior as you? No! That makes us special. That makes us unique.
So, in my opinion, Heather Ross' fabric doesn't offend me. Why? Because it is through her background, her culture that this fabric is created. If she chooses not to vary skin tones in her fabric, that is GREAT with me. Because you know something? When you force political correctness, you end up with some mistakes... like this one.
Does any one recognize this pattern? It's Panda Buns, by Hillary Lang, one of my favorite crafting gurus in the world. But I feel she missed the mark on this pattern. It's almost as though there was a checklist of stereotypes that Hillary went through to create her doll. "Ok, what is Asian? Pandas! Check! Slanted eyes! Check! A kimono! Check!" But, do I think that was her intent? I have to give her the benefit of the doubt and just chalk it up to an excess of excitement over an idea she thought was cute. Did I call for a boycott of her book? Of course not! But, now having pointed it out, I will write her a note telling her my views on the pattern. Who knows if she'll answer in the way I would want. But at least I won't demonize her in my blog.
Ashley said that Heather Ross could just change a few skin tones on a few girls and that would be enough. But you know? That's not the solution. The solution is to embrace our diversity through the exploration of our wonderful country of multiculturism. The change doesn't start with forcing someone to change a fabric that you deem racist. The change starts by looking at your own life and explore different ways to become a scholar of life.
To conclude, Ashley says the following:
Here’s the thing: especially if you’re a pretty well-off white person, it can be genuinely difficult to see past your racial privilege. There’s almost nothing in the world we live in, in America in 2011, that’s going to force to you do it. You have to be willing to want to do it, and you have to be willing to admit when you’ve failed to do it. And when somebody says to you, as people sometimes will, because of how easy it is to fuck up, “hey, that thing you did was kinda racist,” you have to be open to saying, “huh, is it possible that what I did was kinda racist?” AND THEN YOU HAVE TO BE WILLING TO GO TO WORK. You have to make acknowledging and fixing your fuckups with regard to race an active, if occasionally humbling, part of your life. So all of this to say, Heather Ross, if you happen to read this, GO TO WORK. Draw your life! Absolutely! Be super-focused on what you did and what you loved in your own personal staying-true-to-yourself life. And then? Then you zoom out, just a little bit, just the tiniest little bit, because that’s all you need to do, so you can include everybody who’s part of the world. Because those people? Whether you realize it or not? Are part of your life.
In my opinion, this essay is offensive. Ashley is welcome to her point of view. But she seems to be patting herself on the back, saying, "Look at me! I got past my white-lady privilege! Hooray! Now get to work and be like me, Heather Ross!" She also seems to assume that her white racial privilege gives her a life that is better than mine. Guess what? It's not. In fact, I've always believed that I've had the wonderful opportunity of growing up in a family that is wholly unique, wholly special. Seeing a little freckled face Asian girl on a fabric isn't going to change my life one bit. Do you know who I look to to see a role model? I look in the mirror. I look at my mom, my sisters, my friends. I look at my husband and my daughter. I don't need society to tell me I'm worthy. I KNOW I am worthy. That's what we need to instill into our society. Not by essays that presume to know what the minority experience in America is.
The way Ashley uses the word "privilege" as though it's only something that white people in America can know rings false to me. The definition of privilege is: "A special advantage, immunity, permission, right, or benefit granted to or enjoyed by an individual, class, or caste". You know what? I have a privilege that many people in this country don't have. I have the privilege of experiencing my wonderful multicultural life with all of its diversity and beauty. I do it on a daily basis. I wish everyone could have the privilege of living life the way I do. Do white people have an advantage in our society? In some aspects, they do. But do Asians? Have you ever heard of the Asian discount? It's part of all of lives. Do I wish these differences didn't exist? Of course!
My heart sank further when I started reading the comments. Ashley was praised for writing "a reasoned and articulate analysis" and was thanked for being "thought provoking but not mean spirited". Is writing a f-bomb laden tirade not mean-spirited? Isn't this an attack on Heather Ross? I was really shocked at how many people found this to be an appropriate response to the topic. I think a more powerful argument would have been for Ashley to ask a variety of people how they felt about it and dissected their answers, versus championing a train of thought that, in my opinion, fell short of the mark.
I do understand what she was trying to get to. We do need more diversity in crafting. But that won't happen by making some faces on a piece of fabric different skin tones. It will happen by supporting those artists who have their own unique voice no matter what the color of their skin is. It will happen when we look at our own lives and change ourselves, not force others to be the change.
If you've gotten this far - kudos to you! I would ask everyone, especially those who who supported Ashley's essay, to do the following. (I did this in a class on multiculturalism that I took in my Teaching Credential program and everyone was surprised at how simple but powerful this exercise was.) Go outside your boundaries and visit someplace that you normally wouldn't go. Little Italy, Thai Town, the Museum of Neon Art. Before you go, write down 10 things that you expect to see or experience on your visit. After your visit, write down 10 things you did see or experience. Do the two lists differ? Why do they differ? How did you feel visiting somewhere that was outside of your comfort zone? Maybe it'll give you a glimpse into what it feels like to be a minority in America. Now re-read Ashley's essay. Do you see where a woman of "privilege" championing the rights of the underprivileged (because, if white people are privileged, it stands to reason that minorities are underprivileged) reads to me as being offensive?
I said in one of my comments in Ashley's essay that I believe true diversity includes acceptance of diversity of thought. I accept and honor Ashley's opinion and her right to make her feelings known. I wish she would have done the same for Heather Ross.
I know I don't write things like this, EVER, on my blog. So why did I do it?
For my beautiful Baby J. Full of hope and joy and wonder. With her dark hair and blue eyes who will never find a representation of herself in any media. But I hope I can be a strong enough role model to help her believe that this doesn't matter. When the (inevitable) question comes up, "Mommy, am I Asian like you or white like Daddy?" I hope I can say, without sarcasm or cynicism, "My little love, you are an American. And do you know what that means? You can be whatever you want. Don't let other people define you. And most of all, STAY TRUE TO YOURSELF." Just like Heather Ross stayed true to herself.
And Julia will respond, "Finger Kiss!"
(Go ahead! Touch her finger with yours. It'll brighten your day!)
Ok, now back to our regularly scheduled programming! Next up? Don't be crewel...
Jul 2, 2011
