Monday, August 8, 2011

INAPPROPRIATE





The Family Series at Boston’s Institute of Contemporay Art decided that my work Manufacturing Consent was not appropriate for a young audience because people rolling on the floor screaming intensely for three minutes, as well as people taking off layers of panties and crawling under the chair of an audience member might raise questions that parents may not be ready to answer or address. The work can be performed for the general “older” community, but not for the family program.

I was amused, annoyed, angered and saddened by the decision.

What is ironic is that the dance is inspired by Noam Chomsky’s book and movie, Manufacturing Consent, which proposes that corporate media tends to serve and further the agendas and interests of the dominant and elite groups in society.

What annoyed and angered me is that:

1. It is fine to see paintings, photographs or sculptures of naked people in museums, but not to have a dance where people remove layers of underwear or scream for three minutes.

2. I grew up watching bugs bunny, which is full of sexual innuendos that I didn’t understand, and I was not emotionally or mentally scarred by watching the cartoons. I find people often underestimate kids ability to understand and process complex issues.

3. Kids (people) ask questions in an attempt to understand life; and good parenting, teaching and mentoring is about providing answers.

4. Kids who have seen earlier iterations of the work have often laughed at the removal of the underwear (not been traumatized), as they know that you are not supposed to show your underwear. Also kids can and often do scream for long periods of time.

5. I recently listened to a conversation on the radio with Jeff Kinney about his book Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Some parents love the book as it got their kids to begin reading, other parents hate the book and feel it should be banned because it establishes a bad role model. Stating that the eleven year protagonist in the book is “a jerk. He repeatedly abuses his best friend, lies, blithely abandons a group of small children and attempts all sorts of desperate and dishonest ploys in the name of becoming popular." However does reading a book about an “odious” kid or seeing a movie that is violent, scary or sexual cause a person to behave inappropriately or to become violent, aggressive and sexually maladjusted? The real issue is not the scary, violent or sexual movie or book, it is the lack of parenting and resources to provide kids with tools to navigate a violent, sexual and challenging world. Japan has extremely sexual and violent video games, however Japan in proportion to its population has fewer cases of rape and murder than the United States.

6. American’s hypocrisy and prudery in regards to sexuality, violence and anger, will prevent us from having real discussions about the issues.

As a choreographer and artist I am interested in creating work that people cannot be neutral about. I am interested in asking audience members to make choices. The Institute of Contemporary Art Family Series choice was to not have the work be performed for a young audience. I saw no point in arguing, as I am not the one who has to deal with the consequences if people are offended, complain or decide to no longer support the Institution. However, I am amused that the Institute of Contemporary Art, when you scratch the surface, is not that "contemporary"

Ultimately the dance, Manufacturing Consent, was performed on Saturday July 30th at the ICA, as part of Summer Stages Dance Festival Choreographer’s Project Showcase at 3:30pm (general audience).


LOLA & HER MASTER


The original plan was for Darryl to join me for the last week of Prodanza (I was excited as it was going to be his first time travelling overseas), following which we would spend several days relaxing in Firenze. When he was denied a passport (long story, tell you in person over a good drink), and it was going to be too expensive to change my ticket, I decided to use the time to hole up in a hotel room and do research for the upcoming Thomas Paine project.

A feature that bothers me about Firenze, especially in the old town around the Duomo, is there are no trees. Except for a few scattered parks, it is a completely stone city of narrow winding streets, ancient buildings, expansive plazas and imposing sculptures. The sculptures are predominantly of men and the few women depicted are either being abducted or rescued by a man. I consider trees a necessity in cities as they provide oxygen, filter polluted air, reduce stress, provide shade, lower the temperature and as a result help conserve energy. In the old town there is an occasional flowerpot or trellis of vines decorating the façade of an outdoor restaurant, but no dirt, no trees, no deeply rooted plants. I don’t know if the lack of trees is a result of the streets being narrow and the buildings densely packed, or because tree roots in search of water can displace the cobblestones lining the streets and wrap around water pipes, breaking them; Or if it is a form of pest control, i.e. making sure there is no exposed dirt where rats can burrow, propagate, and spread disease; Or perhaps it is a way to encourage people to go to church. None of the old buildings have air conditioning and churches are a cool place to sit and escape the heat. Whatever the reason, I miss seeing a tree and decide to explore the area east of the Duomo where several parks are listed on the map.

It is a long walk to Orto Botanico park. I find a bench to sit on, but Orto Botanico is a drab, uninviting park, without much foot traffic. I contemplate moving on, but want to give my feet a rest. As I am pondering my next move a small silky black dog approaches and plops under my bench. The man attached to the dog tells me her name is Lola. We talk. He is from southern Italy and just returned from a long bus ride visiting his mother and sister. I am surprised to learn that dogs are allowed on buses.

I find out the man is a philosopher, specializing in ethics and human behavior. He would like a job working as a professor in a European University. He is 38 years old. He is single. His last relationship ended six months ago. His father is dead. He doesn’t earn a lot of money. He has been in Florence for a year working a construction job, as he can’t find work in his field. He doesn’t like the Italian education system as it involves a lot of nepotism and waiting for a person to retire or die, so a position will open up. He is working on his third paper for publication; this one discusses whether people are a series of chemical reactions, as neuroscientists would propose, or an arrangement of memory, behavior, environment and spirituality, which is what he proposes.

I mention that I am in the park because I wanted to see trees. He informs me there is a nicer park, would l like to walk there? When I stand up he is taken aback by my height, and mentions a few times that without my danskos or “platform shoes” we would be the same height. Which is delusional. He is not a tall man. The sidewalks are narrow and it is hard to walk without occasionally touching, however nothing blatantly inappropriate. He mentions a few times that I can come back to his apartment, or that “he is my tree”, which I ignore. It dawns on me that he might think I am a prostitute. We cross Piazza San Marco and Piazza della Independencia and finally reach Firenze Fiera park by the central train station. It is a pleasanter park with a pond and fountain in the middle. There are children, dogs, people playing ping-pong, and several disabled people with their caretakers. The park features a small open-air cafe with a DJ spinning old school records (Run DMC, Jacksons, Prince). The man asks about the tattoo on my ring finger and I figure it is a convenient time to talk about Darryl, let him know I’m married and I’m not going to his apartment. He is quiet for a moment. He is especially taken aback when I tell him I am 44 years old. He thought I was about 27/28. He has a sister my age… It is getting dark, so we walk back to the Duomo area. He mentions that his neck is stiff, and asks if I am good at massage… No way am I massaging his neck. I tell him it is not my skill set. Lola is panting heavily and looks thirsty. He declares she is fine and can wait till they get back to the apartment. I pour water from my canteen into my hand for Lola to drink. She is hesitant and then drinks eagerly. We reach an area that I recognize so say good-bye. He gives an overlong hug, and tries to kiss me on the mouth. I decline. He suddenly holds my face and abruptly, forcefully sticks his tongue in my mouth. Disgusted I pull away and walk away feeling violated. Yuck, so much for principles and ethical behavior. Maybe that’s why he mentioned several times that he does not earn a lot of money, so as a “prostitute” I would not charge high fees.

The next morning in the vicinity of the train station, I walk by an African woman walking alone. A short distance behind her there is another African woman strolling down the street. Both have heavy make-up, high heels and wear tight short dresses. The two women assess me, and although I nod at them, they do not nod or smile back.

I find I am stared at a lot in Italy. As a tall black woman with a big fro and walking by myself – I am an unknown. I could be a tourist, a prostitute or “Brown Sugar” as several of the vendors called out to me.

I perused the web and found out that prostitution is legal in Italy, however organized prostitution and brothels were outlawed in 1959 in an effort to eliminate organized crime’s involvement. As a result prostitutes have to work the streets or out of their homes. I also found out that there are an estimated 20,000 African women, specifically Nigerians, working as prostitutes in Italy. Apparently, Nigerian women began appearing on the streets of Italy in the 1980’s, when the fear of AIDS rendered “drug-addicted Italian girls no longer attractive propositions on the prostitution market.” (From the United Nations Interregional Crime and Justice Research Institute report on the Programme of Action against Trafficking in Minors and Young Women from Nigeria into Italy for the Purpose of Sexual Exploitation). Nigerian women now constitute 60 percent of all immigrants working in the commercial sex industry in Italy. Albanian women are the next largest group.

According to the United Nations report and other sites I searched, Albania has high rates of poverty and unemployment, a crumbling infrastructure, and corrupt elected officials, which makes it fertile ground for trafficking in weapons, drugs and people. Nigeria has similar issues of overwhelming poverty, lack of education and job opportunities, inadequate infrastructure and corrupt officials. In addition Nigeria has a history of slavery and trafficking in people. In Nigeria trafficking is an industry. People are organized into specialties, such as recruitment, document forgery and transportation. Recruiters are often relatives or people known to the family, who enlist young women with promises of legitimate work and of providing a better life and salary payments to the family.

After the initial recruitment, a woman is put in contact with an Italian Madam who often becomes her sponsor and arranges a “pact” that obliges the woman to repay the cost of transporting her to Europe. The pact is frequently sealed by an indigenous priest, who traditionally also functions as a magistrate or registrar. The pact ensures the woman’s silence and compliance as it threatens her and her family with ‘curses’ or retaliation if she does not fulfill the pack.

When women arrive in Italy, the Madam keeps them in nearly slave like conditions. Their documents are taken away from them and kept as a guarantee. If they refuse to cooperate or attempt to escape, they are harshly beaten as examples or threatened with reprisals against their families. Women are made to work until they can pay off their debt, which is generally between $40,000 to $100,000 (women have to cover the cost of documentation, transportation, room and board and any other fees that traffickers add onto the debt). A woman working the streets can earn up to $3,700 a month for her “sponsor”. The Madam or the women send money and gifts back to the families in Nigeria, which allows families to buy cars, land, build grand houses, dig boreholes, and purchase material goods. As a result working abroad is seen as a “golden ticket” and the best strategy for escaping poverty and ensuring a better future for one’s family.

I am not against prostitution and believe it should be legalized, however it is one thing if a person has voluntarily chosen to enter the field - like sex worker and porn star Annie Sprinkle, Grisélidis Réal, Jenna Jameson or Tristan Taormino. It is a completely different scenario if a person is an illegal immigrant without resources and coerced into sex work. The risks involved with street prostitution for Nigerian women in Italy are huge! AIDS, lack of health care, no legal representation, deportation (which can result in retaliation against the woman’s family for not fulfilling the “pact”), social ostracization when they return home and people realize they have been working as prostitutes, and especially the chance of being raped, brutalized or killed by either a client or trafficker.

What angers me about the situation is the exploitation of the poor and disenfranchised, and that 195 years after Sarah Baartman died (Baartman was the “Hottentot Venus.” A Khoisan woman from South Africa who was exhibited as a “Freak” in 19th Century Europe for her large butt and elongated labia), the black female body is still being objectified, sexualized and de-humanized in Europe. What makes the situation insidious is there are no images in Italy of black women as educators, lawyers, doctors, mothers, architects, artists, business owners or politicians, to counter the image of black women as sexual objects or sexual deviants.

Reflecting on Lola and her owner, I was annoyed that the man’s needs and assumptions overrode any principles he may have. He was not at all concerned about who I am as an individual. If I had been paying attention, I would have recognized that Lola was a red flag. For a little dog, Lola didn’t have much personality. She had beautiful silky black fur, but no spunk other that an occasional stubbornness when she wanted to sit down or pee. She had no awareness of cars or traffic. I got the sense she is not played with or spoken to or what I would consider to be truly loved. She is taken care of, but not cultivated.

She is clearly attached to the man but I would propose out of necessity, not love. I wondered how much of what the man told me is true. He had never heard of Thomas Paine – which doesn’t mean much, but as a philosopher I would think Paine would be among the writers studied. Based upon his nebulous principles, I hope he never gets a teaching job.

In researching human trafficking and the commercial sex industry, it was disturbing to realize people are trafficked in America. According to CIA analysis, approximately 50,000 men, women and children (primarily from Mexico, East Asia, South Asia, Central America, Africa and Europe), are trafficked annually in the USA as sex slaves or as domestics, garment and agricultural slaves. It is also interesting to find out that overseas American military bases coordinate brothels for soldiers as a way to reduce the likelihood of civilians being raped, control the spread of venereal diseases amongst soldiers, and “boost” morale. In the 1940’s the military established Paradise and Shangri-La, brothels of local women for the soldiers guarding the Firestone rubber plantations in Liberia. (Firestone was the main supplier of rubber for the Allied Forces). The sex tourism industry in Thailand developed in the 1960’s as a result of the Vietnam War and an R&R contract between the United States and Thailand, where soldiers returning to the states after a years tour of duty, first stopped in Thailand for a week of R&R. Currently in Iraq, military contactors organize prostitution rings with women from Europe, Vietnam, Korea, China, and the Philippines.

What keeps human trafficking going is POVERTY, GREED and WAR. What also doesn’t help are the high profit margins and low risk in human trafficking. The penalties for trafficking in humans are much lower than the penalties for smuggling drugs or weapons. If as a global society we could reduce poverty (livable jobs, education), regulate greed (decrease the emphasis on high profit margins and stress that Chief Executives Officers can not earn more than 100 of their employees), and emphasize principles of respect for all people - the world would be a more equitable place to live in.

For more information on trafficking check out:

http://gvnet.com/humantrafficking/Nigeria.htm
http://www.migrationinformation.org/feature/display.cfm?ID=318
The United Nations Interregional Crime and Justice Research Institute report on the Programme of Action against Trafficking in Minors and Young Women from Nigeria into Italy for the Purpose of Sexual Exploitation

Summer 2010

In June 2010 I spent two days in Florence (Firenze), Italy teaching at Alambrado Dance Studio, and then all of July teaching technique, choreography, improvisation and partnering at Prodanza, a dance festival in Castiglioncello, Italy. Castiglioncello is a sleepy, seaside, resort town, which on Friday and Saturday nights becomes a hot spot with people cruising the cantinas, restaurants and nightclubs that line the seashore. Since I don’t drive and needed a way to get from the villa where I was staying to the dance studio, I rented a mountain bike. The seat was HARD and the handle bar low, but at the price (18 Euro or $23 a week) it was a good deal. It took a while to not be exhausted by the 20-minute ride up, down and over the hills or envious of the Italian bikers in their riding suits who would whizz by like colorful butterflies.

There is so much to savor in Italy:

• The freshness of the food (makes me aware how much processed food I consume in the States). I couldn’t eat enough nectarines, cantaloupes and figs.

• How people take time to be with each other.

• Inexpensive great wine (drank way to much of it).

• The wealth of history everywhere I went.

• The sea – At the end of a long day and bike ride, it was wonderful to plunge into the sea and be lulled by the waves.

• People working at the registrar in supermarkets are allowed to sit in chairs.

• People working in post offices do not have to wear uniforms. I was helped by a very sexy grandma in heels, which was jarring. I’m not used to thinking of postal workers as being sexy.

• In several public restrooms the water faucets in sinks are turned on by stepping on a pedal on the floor.

• Prodanza was started by Pola Chapelle (a former Cabaret singer with a wonderful husky voice)and run like a mom and pop organization – informal, slightly disorganized, generous and never dull. Pola is married to Adolfas Mekas who with his brother Jonas Mekas helped develop avant-garde film in America. I was delighted to learn that Adolfas had been involved in the
Fluxus Movement and knew George Maciunas (considred the founder of Fluxus). I couldn’t absorb enough stories or the lemoncello that Adolfas was mass-producing in the Villa’s tiny kitchen.

* Enjoyed meeting, working and performing with Amy Chavasse. An amazing woman, colleague and creative spirit. Also enjoyed working with the participants at Prodanza. A very focused and dedicated group.

What frustrated me:

• It is very hard to get a firm commitment about when, where or how an event will happen. I never received a contract for the two teaching jobs I did. It was all based on emails and phone calls, so I had to be patient, go with the flow and trust that everything will work out. Which it did, but not without some last minute turbulence and adjustments.

• The dance studio floor was HARD. No jumping.

• Not being able to speak Italian and fully communicate. Used a lot of hand gestures and bastardized Spanitalian.

• The HEAT. Totally understand why people take siestas!

• Being apart from Darryl for 4 ½ weeks was difficult. Helped that we skyped and video chatted practically every day, although sometimes I felt like I was in Midnight Express. Specifically the scene where the woman visits her boyfriend in prison and they are talking through glass and she lifts up her shirt and pushes her breasts against the glass while he tries to touch them… Was good to finally reconnect in Brooklyn. : )