Objectification

A female columnist recently wrote about how it was acceptable for female critics to lust after comely male actors, but no longer acceptable for male critics to speak in a similar manner of female actors. She identified this as a double standard, and lamented how the #metoo movement had made us lose our sense of humour and our sense of proportion.
Not all double standards are bad. Not all objectification is  unwelcome. But, we do live in a world where the a women are judged primarily on the way they look, which is not the case for men. Women are also told that their biggest asset (no puns intended) is their looks and most women have to spend a good amount of time warding of unwelcome sexual advances from men. So the context that male and female actors, or any male or female for that matter, operate in is completely different. I have been slapped on the bum by female friends and didn't feel violated in the least. But, I would never do that to a female friend, however close we are. A part of is down to my personality, but a part of it is also an acknowledgement that I need to, as a man, take extra care to make women feel safe around me, which is something my female friends don't have to worry about.  And, that is a small price to pay compared to all the other advantages that men enjoy. 

Perfectionism

I have never thought of myself as a perfectionist. But, I am realizing that I have always been somewhat of a perfectionist when it comes to writing. I hate to turn anything in that I am not fully satisfied, that doesn't give me a sense of  completeness. I have been working on my progression exam report, which, by definition, is a work in progression. But, I am not satisfied with my final draft, which I have to hand in in a few days. And, that is a difficult feeling to live with. I am not off by a huge margin and just need to find the solution to one problem. Maybe  I will, or maybe I will have to  hand in a piece of work that I am not fully satisfied with.  Maybe, it is unrealistic to expect to turn in "perfect" work on crushing deadlines in academia, and I need to get used to being okay with that. In any case, merit is in the eyes of the beholder, and someone might find that  the  work I am satisfied with is rubbish.

Busyness

I remember saying a few posts ago that I wouldn't write any more posts about how busy I am, but what's the purpose of rules if you can't break them once in a while? When I started my PhD I used to often be miffed with my supervisor because it was so hard to catch her. She would constantly be telling me that she couldn't see me because she was so busy. Surely, she didn't spend all her time doing ground-breaking research or illuminating young minds? I follow her active twitter feed. Surely, if she could find so much time for twitter, she could make some time for me?
Things have changed for the better. She has begun to give me more time. And, being busy myself, I  am beginning to see things from her perspective. Sometimes, when people  say they don't have time for you, they mean they value your claim on their time, so they won't commit time to you unless they can do justice to your claim. They want to give you their undivided unencumbered attention. Even now, when I am super-busy, I spend hours mucking about on the internet. I don't feel particularly guilty for it because writing is hard work and you can't spend 10 hours a day doing it. Wasting time is a part of the writing process, not to mention how mucking around can lead to interesting discoveries that contribute to your writing. I have also become more  autonomous and have a better sense of what to expect from my supervisor. I don't expect her to read every conference proposal I write, at least not in the stipulated time-frame, so I don't send them to her. 

Sleep-thinking

My afternoon naps are a surreal affair. When there is a bed or couch available, I nap on my back and often snore. I am usually half-awake so I can listen to my snoring. At the same time, I am dreaming or thinking. Yes, snoring and dreaming at the same time. Usually, I cannot remember my dreams but I am certain that I dreamed. I often wake up with a start feeling mild anxiety, but it blows over quite quickly.
Today, I didn't dream during my afternoon nap. Instead, I was lost in thought about how magical the last few years have been. Yes, they have been the most difficult of my life so far, but there is so much to be happy about. Five years ago, working in a mostly dull by well-paying job in my home city that I have never managed to grow fond of, I would never have guessed my life would turn out this way. My choice of a university to do my master's was made substantially easier by rejections from most of the other places I had applied to. At that university, I had the good fortune of meeting a professor who opened my eyes to new ways of doing economics, which allowed me to channel my disgruntlement with mainstream economics into something productive and creative. He also inspired me to seek a career in academia, putting me in touch with his former student who was a rising star in heterodox economics and doing research in my areas of interest. I didn't have a plan for life after my master's but was reasonably sure that academia was not for me. That former student is my supervisor now and despite having a few teething troubles, I now believe I couldn't have asked for a better supervisor. I had to interrupt my PhD studies but was able to return to them with relative ease, buttressed by the solid support of everyone involved in the process. Also, I almost didn't go to the counselor who showed me the path towards light because she was booked for months. I had arranged to meet with another  counselor, but on the day of the appointment I got a call from my preferred counselor's office offering me the slot of someone who had cancelled. So much good fortune, so much to be grateful for. It is important to remember.

Language and Reality

The book on research methods in the social sciences continues to give food for thought. I was reading about how the classical view of language is it represents or articulates our concepts of reality and in the process reproduces and reflects reality. The modern view is that language is reality and while an independent reality exists, it is only rendered meaningful through language. But, what about experiences which we lack a language to describe. I immediately thought of anxiety/depression symptoms which exist in the grey area between physical sensations and mental feelings--they have a physical as well as mental manifestation. While experiencing the symptoms, especially for the first time, one often struggles to find the language to  describe what exactly one is feeling (used henceforth to refer to both sensations and feelings). Anxiety/depression have become catch-all phrases to describe a wide spectrum of unease. While labeling the feeling does help to reduce its potency, it does so by assuring the patient that what he or she is feeling is transient. "That dizziness is just anxiety, you don't have a brain tumour". But, the tactic being used here is attempted distraction, and not interpretation of the feeling to trace its roots. And just because we lack the language to come to terms with it, it doesn't become any less real, as anyone who has experienced anxiety will tell you. 

Blog Views

Wasn't blogging really big in the noughties and then it fell into decline because less taxing forms of self-expression and more rewarding vehicles for self-obsession made an appearance? When you can  tweet your opinion or instagram your pictures in an instant, why waste time writing a short essay? Who reads blogs anymore?
I have one faithful reader according to my views log, although I have no idea who it is. Or maybe blogger shows one view by default to keep bloggers like me encouraged. In the beginning, my heart would slightly swell with pride if I had more than one reader for a particular post. Now that I have gotten into the habit of blogging, I am just curious about my viewership. I know that I am going to continue blogging whether I have a single reader or not. But, my lone reader, if you exist, I thank you.

Data Fitting

I am taking a course in econometrics, and I am not enjoying it at all. I suppose I don't  have a head for statistics and that, coupled with skepticism  about the potential to untangle cause and effect in economics, is making the going difficult. I suppose an intuitive grasp of statistics would have allowed me to look at it as pure maths while suspending my skepticism. But, I am bad at it and don't particularly want to be good at it, which is a big demotivator.
When I was in school, I thought I was terrible at Maths because my sister was so good at it. Of  course, she never made me feel that way, and was, in fact, very protective of the meek mouse that I was for my first 11 years. Over time, I got over my mental block and although I am far from a math whiz, I am quite competent at it. Maybe it is the same with econometrics. The difference is I am not as perturbed by my lack of competence in econometrics as I was by my perceived lack of competence in Maths.
At least one good thing has come out of taking the course. Before taking this course, I used to think that econometrics is bull-shit and its practitioners were willful or ignorant charlatans. I don't think so any more. There are a lot of people do bull-shit econometrics but the good ones know what they are doing and are well aware of its limitations.

Room With A View

We were informed today that we would  be kicked out of our PhD room and relocated to another PhD room. I am taking it quite badly because I am quite attached to our bright and airy room which is meant to seat about 15 people at least but is never occupied by more than 6 people at any given time. Another colleague who is also comes in every day like me is relieved that we will all be together in the new room. But, I am more attached to the physical space than the people, with the exception of that colleague. My favourite part is the large window which looks out on to the university campus. There is a small table beside the window and I am often found seated at it, gazing into the distance. The new room is directly above our old room but for some strange reason it has been split in two, making both rooms seem drab and dingy. And, I am not looking forward to the ensuing weeks of haggling and arguments over who sits where in the new room. We always suspected that our room situation was too good to be true and that at some point some jealous eyes would fall upon us. That time has come.

I Am Getting Better And Better

I was reading a book on research methods in the social sciences when I came across an axiom which astonished me because I was first acquainted with it in a very different context. The phrase is "Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better", and its author is apparently a French Enlightenment philosopher named Emile Coute. The idea that he was trying to put forth was that progress is inevitable for enlightened humans who have embraced rational ways of thought.
I had first come across the dictum in a famous self-help book called You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay. I was strongly urged to read the book by a friend when I was going through a tough phase in my life. At the time, the message of the book--self-hatred is the root of all suffering and one can heal oneself--had seemed like a revelation to me and I had frenetically repeated self-affirmations to myself for a few months.
I have enough experience of these things to know that what doesn't work for one person might work for another, so I will try not to be too dismissive of it. But, it didn't work for me and after a point it just seemed pointless, and even a little silly. Trying to force yourself into believing that things are going great and you are awesome when they are obviously not and you feel like shit even began to feel a little counterproductive to me. It is easy to slip into self-blame because if  things are going great, and I still feel like shit, maybe I am shit. I don't disagree with the central message that resentment is poisonous and forgiveness coupled with self-love is the key to healing, but the methods didn't work for me. What worked for me is a combination of many things, chief among which were counselling and yoga. I like the yoga approach of taking a step back and trying to come to terms with where you are and how you are feeling. "This is where I am and this is what I am working with" is empowering for me because it doesn't make any tall claims about life or about myself. It is a simple restatement of what is. I also like that it is not just a mental exercise but involves the mind and the breath. When you spend so much time in your head, as I do, it is important to get into your body. And the breath is the connection between  mind and body. By focusing on it, you  harmonize mind and body. Easier said than done, and it doesn't work always, but I usually feel better and never worse after a yoga session. This approach sees loving as a natural ability and not one that has to be rigorously cultivated. One simply needs to look away from the distractions that overshadow the experience of love. Such an approach works better for me. To become better every day and in every way seems like a tedious way of living. 

Royal Wedding

I missed the royal wedding as I was away watching my nephew compete in an athletics tournament. Even if I had been in town, I wouldn't have followed it on TV. I would be more interested in what people were saying about it. After getting back last night, I checked out the press coverage of the wedding. Apparently, a black pastor was a part of the proceedings and had given what Reuters described as a barnstorming sermon in the tradition of black American preachers, complete with screaming, hand-waving and masterful voice modulation. He became a hit in the press and the social media for a sermon on love that was sprinkled with references to slaves and Martin Luther King. I quite liked it because it was a good sermon and also because he had chosen to make it in the lily-white stiff-lipped environs of a British Royal wedding.
I then went on Twitter to check out the opposing point of view. One of the academics I follow called his sermon "placatory", with "obligatory, sanitized MLK references" and not in the tradition of radical American preachers.
To be clear, I don't think this will improve race relations materially just like Obama's presidency did little to improve the lot of America's black population. But, by some accounts, Obama's presidency did change how black people saw themselves and their aspirations. And, did we really expect a black preacher to demand reparations in a wedding sermon, and that too a royal wedding? It felt like the critics on the left were going out of their way to be dismissive of it even though they were surprised by it. Maybe the critics fear that people like Meghan Markle make the monarchy more acceptable--she is black enough but not too black, she is famous, successful and has great media presence. That is a valid fear, but the monarchy isn't going anywhere. Most Britons are indifferent to it rather than actively opposed to it, and I think it is bit of a stretch to suggest that support for monarchy is cloaked in nostalgia for empire in all cases. I think such a view comes from the Left's tendency to define their opponents ideologically. So Union-jack waving white men are likely to be anti-labour, Islamophobic white supremacists. But most people don't yearn for ideologically consistency even if they are aware of political ideologies, which is why you get a lot of seemingly "confused" people. I fully agree with the critics that having a half-black princess doesn't make Britain less racist. But no one is a blanket racist or a blanket non-racist. Racism lives in us, and is coloured by many other '-isms', so it natural that no one is consistently racist or anti-racist.
The criticism also caricatured the preacher as a folksy preacher acceptable to the dominant classes, who preached of love rather than the struggle for liberation. I don't think that's true because I did some background reading on him and turns out he has taken progressive positions--supporting Black Lives Matter, gay marriage and immigration reform. But, why is talking of love a distraction from the struggle?What comes after the revolution? When everyone is "free" and equal, how will women and men find purpose in their lives? 

Stalking

Why is stalking so distressing? I think because it is a case of someone you don't want in your life forcing their way into it. Someone who either makes you feel unsafe or unsound or who brings up unpleasant memories. And someone whom you feel you should have the choice not to have in your life. It makes you feel powerless and weak because it is so easy for someone to rock the boat of your life with their mere presence. There is also the realisation that stalking is irrational because you have already indicated that you want nothing to do with that person and, at least from your perspective, that person should have no expectations that you will ever engage with him or her. If the person is irrational it is really difficult to predict how the person will respond to a given situation. There is no second-guessing crazy, which makes the whole experience even more unnerving. It is difficult for someone who hasn't been stalked to imagine what it feels like, especially when there are no physical threats. 

Fantasies

Do our fantasies reflect our deepest subliminal desires or are they simply flights of imaginations? If you are in the habit of over-thinking, like I am, you are often likely to examine your fantasies. And either judge the fantasies or judge your life for not measuring up to those fantasies. "If I am dreaming about something, maybe that is what I want, then why am I not taking steps in that direction?". Maybe, a healthier alternative is to think of fantasies as an escape from reality, as reducing expectations from reality. Being able to feel like you are living another reality, without all the messy stuff that comes with actually living that reality. Also, to own your fantasies, sexual or otherwise, without guilt or judgement. My fantasies are mine alone, and no one else's business, not even of those people who figure in those fantasies. So, when people don't live up to the roles assigned to them in your fantasies, there is no sense of disappointment. For example, if the academic you look up to fails to be impressed by your presentation and to offer to co-author a paper with you, no worries.
I  used to think that great novels and short stories are mostly autobiographical because there is no way an artist can depict an experience so vividly unless she or he has lived it. I don't believe that anymore. Great works of art are born when experience blends with imagination and breaks out of the bonds of either category. 

No Respite

I thought the stress would let up this week as I have finished the first draft of my progression report. No such luck. I just learned that I will have to present my work at the summer school I am attending in Italy next week. While I hack away at my to-do list from one end it seems to keep growing from the other.  I suppose the only option is to hack away but try to smile while doing it. And sometimes just chip away. In the past few weeks, I have often felt the need to demolish my pending tasks list with a burst of effort. But, it feels like I am chasing a mirage because even though I have been working hard and achieved a lot, I seem no closer to finishing. And, even if I did, what then? It is not like I have a ton of hobbies that I am dying to devote time to. For better or worse, my work is my life. So, why not try to do it with a smile?
And, I have resumed yoga and feel better already. I know my stress symptoms won't go away  immediately but I am prepared to wait. And, in any case, I have enough to do without worrying about worrying.

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day, so I thought I would write about my mother, although she won't read this. Many of us have complicated relationships with our mothers and that is understandable because its one of the, if not the, most important relationships in our lives. The more important the relationship, the more the scope for complications. The more the potential for love, the more the potential for pain. Aai and I have had our problems, which came to the fore during the past few years, causing a lot of turbulence. But, I am happy to say that all that is behind us now. It was a long and painful journey to realizing that there are many ways of living, many ways of loving and many ways of mothering. If you leave aside obviously toxic relationships, none is necessarily better than the others. We all live to the best of our ability and we all love to the best of our ability. Coming to terms with any relationship is more a question of acceptance than of forgiveness. 

Something to burn

My PhD progression report (or rather the first draft of it) is nearly ready. I finally have some idea about what my PhD is at this moment. That idea is bound to change as I go along and I am bound to get a load of feedback from my supervisors that will make me think long and hard before I even turn the progression report in. At the risk of sounding self-important, I am trying to do something for which there is no template, so the potential for going off the rails into La La land is enormous. What is intended to be ground-breaking work can easily break into bullshit territory. As my supervisor says, maybe the reason that  no one has done it before is because there are good reasons not to.

But, research is about burning work--your previous work and that of others--and making something from the ashes. And, in time, burning that piece of work and making something new. I am glad I at least have something to burn now. 

TimeOut

My body has spoken. I need to slow down. Some people don't listen to their mind when it tells them to slow down so it falls upon their bodies to send them the message. This has been a difficult week. My PhD progression report deadline is a few days away and while I have made considerable progress it still has to all come together. I still have to make travel arrangements for next month, and complete an assignment for a course I am taking. I lost my wallet a few days ago and while I coped well, it was a source of stress. And, today I left my phone and money at home, so I had to come back to fetch them. I could always have borrowed money from my colleagues, but the thought that I might have lost my phone would have distracted me from work.
I would have put all this aside and powered through if not for the physical signs--all classic symptoms of stress/anxiety--unsettled stomach, feeling like I am about to fall sick with a flu, lack of energy (funnily enough, I have been sleeping better for the past few days although insomnia is another of my anxiety symptoms). And my maser symptom--dizziness/lightheadedness which has given me no end of grief over the past two  years. Now, I don't panic when I feel dizzy, I just treat it as a sign that I need to slow down. Radical self-care is about being aware of your symptoms and acting to take preventive action. Seeing the hole and stepping around it before you fall in it. Of course, it doesn't mean giving everything up, which would inevitably cause more anxiety. It means prioritizing, giving up on the less important things to do, finding ways to make life easy for yourself. And, most importantly, not feeling weak or inadequate for being stressed. 

Do Unto Others

It is easy to pick hole in someone's thesis and extremely difficult to defend your own. So it pays to be nice to other people. Do unto others as you would them do unto you. I didn't follow that dictum today. A lecturer at my uni was presenting a paper and I asked so many questions that it doubled the duration of her presentation. And, I pasted such a skeptical expression on my face that I could see her squirm while looking at me. I did take some joy in the fact that she herself had been quite the rotweiller when someone else was presenting at the staff research  seminar two weeks ago. Towards the end of her presentation she told me that she would love to know more about my work and maybe I would consider presenting my work next semester. She asked me again what my research was about today and I had mumbled something vague. She had asked me two weeks ago at the staff seminar when she had rottweilled and I had give the same vague answer. I must have come across as a jerk everready to pick holes in  other people's work but too chicken to even say what he is working on. Going by the practice in the staff seminars, I am pretty sure she will rip into me when I present. The price I will pay for being a smart ass. The lesson to be learned here? Be nicer to others and grow a thicker skin. If I only wish I knew how...

Anxieties Cancel Off

I discovered that I lost my wallet this evening, and I am taking it swimmingly well. Not only am I not fussing about the inconvenience or the lost money, the incident has also taken my mind off my PhD report,which I was stressing about. Maybe it is two stress-points nullifying each other or maybe just one distracting me from the other,  but whatever it is, I welcome it. Yes, I will have to spend some time and mental energy arranging for a new student ID, bank card and wallet, which will make my busy days busier. But, I am grateful that I removed my residence permit from the wallet last week, because losing the permit would have meant cancelling my trip to Italy next month. I am also taking inspiration from my nephew, who broke his arm last year and took it like a champ. I took him to an aquarium some time last year and we idled on a nearby beach for a bit afterwards. I have a photo of him in a floppy cap, one arm in a cast, beaming from ear to ear. Maybe we are socialized to react to certain situations in a certain way, and kids are often clueless about the appropriate reaction. It is sometimes liberating to not feel the way you are supposed to feel in a certain situation. I know this tranquility may be temporary, just like anxiety which comes and goes without rhyme or reason. But, right now, I am at peace.

Rah-rah-rah's

I  was watching an episode of Dear White People in which the black dean was telling a black student how he coped with being one of the few black faces on an ivy league campus in his time. His coping mechanism--rah-rah-rah's, as he called it--was hanging out a lot at a nearby restaurant run by Cape Verdeans. That got me thinking about my own rah-rah-rah's (I wish I got the reference). Mine are definitely yoga and blogging, and talking to a friend I met just last year but who I feel I have known for ages. But mostly, yoga and blogging. Yoga helps me relax and "come back into my body" as I spend most of the day in my head. I have a home yoga routine as well as a weekly class. The people in the weekly class are not very friendly and I don't even know anyone else's name, even though I have been going for almost three months. But the class is so good that it is worth feeling like a fish out of water before and after. And, blogging, of course, is the close friend I don't have in Bristol. Every evening after dinner, I blather on my blog. If I may so, I am doing a pretty good job of keeping it reflective but not explicitly therapeutic. And blogging has become as habitual as brushing my teeth.  As the great philosopher Simmel said, writing/vocalizing your feelings takes the edge off them. And, this may sound pretentious but I feel like I have a lot to offer to the world and that my blog is a vehicle for my offerings. Even if the world doesn't give two hoots about my offerings. Even if there is not conversation, there is the potential for a conversation. I am speaking to someone when I blog, although I don't know who that is.
A friend of mine is struggling at the moment. I hope she finds her rah-rah-rah's. Our rah-rah-rah's make us feel whole again after the world has taken chips out of us. You can do all you can to get out of your hole and you may succeed, but staying out of  the whole is difficult without rah-rah-rah's. Most of us have them (some without realizing), and we all need them. But, they are more than a coping mechanism, they are also an expression of what is best and brightest in us. I blog and do yoga when I am happy,  when I am sad, when I am anxious, when I am excited.

Book Club

Today was the third meeting of the female-focussed book club I am a part of and I loved every minute of it. The book was excellent, and discussing it with a smart and engaged group took it to another level. A book club discussion makes you feel like  you are re-reading the book on steroids. You feel like you are plumbing the depths of the book, seeing the characters from so many different perspectives that it feels like you have insect eyesight.
We have managed to create an intellectually charged but comfortable atmosphere in our book club. Most of us are regulars who have been coming since the first sitting, but we are also welcoming towards newcomers. Another man joined us for the first time today, and from his engagement, it is safe to conclude that he really enjoyed himself. He read out two poems at the end, which inspired me to read out a poem I had brought to the first meeting (a poem about which I have blogged earlier). I had felt too awkward reading it at the first meeting because I was the only male there. But, now I feel comfortable enough in their company that I even told them that I had felt awkward the first time. I also feel confident enough to express my opinions without feeling stupid in front of the members, who are all really smart articulate women.
We get along so well that I sometimes wish we could hang out casually. I still just have one proper friend in Bristol and that is my work colleague. I have grown used to being by myself and I accept that friendships take time to build in this culture. But, I also know how much joy and comfort, friendships can bring, and I miss that. Anyway, what will be, will be. For now, I am just glad that I went to the first book club meeting.

Regressive Regressions

I am taking a course in Econometrics, although I am not sure I will be using that method in my PhD thesis. For the uninitiated, econometrics is the "application of statistical and mathematical theories in economics for the purpose of  testing hypotheses and forecasting future trends", according to Investopedia. It is basically trying to infer cause and effect from a given set of data. I have never been intellectually convinced about its efficacy or legitimacy, but so strong is the consensus in economics that any theory must be testable and falsifiable that you need to use it to be taken seriously. So, I did use it in my master's thesis and was complimented for my work by the examiners but I know what I did was bull-shit.
For a long time after that, I thought econometrics, especially of the time series variety, was bull-shit. I don't think so any more because I have now interacted with genuinely bright econometricians who seem to know what they are doing. They are able to answer my questions intelligently and if not all the answers are comprehensible to me, it may be due to my powers of comprehension, or lack thereof. Now, I do feel econometrics is a worthwhile endeavour but it may not be worthwhile for me. I will have to spend too much time understanding it properly to convince myself of its efficacy and, frankly, I think that time will be better spent elsewhere.
Of course, try explaining that to the statheads, two of whom inhabit my PhD room. They believe any theory  in the world must be statistically testable and that empirical (or more narrowly statistical) rigour is the only worthwhile form of intellectual rigour. To them you can say anything you want as long as you can prove it with statistics.
I have long believed that one can play with data until you find the result you are looking for. I don't think that's an easy exercise--you will be caught out by smart people. These people are well aware of the limitations of econometrics and the strong assumptions that undergrid it. You can dismiss econometrics by saying that you don't believe in the assumptions, just like many non-economists dismiss neoclassical economics by saying that the assumptions are unrealistic. But such a position often becomes an excuse for not engaging with a difficult topic more closely. And, with the hegemony that econometrics enjoys, the detractors who don't really understand it can be easily dismissed. The intelligent, open-minded econometricians I have come across are far less dismissive of social theories, but they are few and far between. Economics does attract a disproportionate share of statheads and mathheads who are downright dismissive of any research that doesn't include statistics.
Perhaps it is healthy to be around people who think your research is bull-shit because it forces you to reflect more closely on your methods. Sometimes, it can weigh on your confidence, but if you are prone to over-confidence like me, maybe that is a good thing. But, at least I can say that I am more open to their research than they are to mine, even I can't be bothered to spend time understanding it. I suppose my philosophy is: "I know you are smart as a result of our interactions or because of your successes or because people who I think are smart think you are smart. Which is why I think what you are doing is worthwhile even if I don't have the time or intellectual capacity to understand it."

Redistribution Of Sex (Or rape by sanction)

So, a New York Times columnist wrote a column predicting government-mandated redistribution of sex in the future, citing one of the best articles I have read in a long time. I had written about the article a few weeks ago and was quite horrified by how he had mangled its message. When Twitter blew up on him, he posted that article--which was on the Politics of Desire--whining that no one had read it. Maybe because he failed to understand why people were getting mad at him and not mad at the author of the other article.
The column also cited an economist who had wondered aloud why redistribution of sex was not considered as just an aim as redistribution of property or money. Well, for starters, because surrendering autonomy over your body is the definition of being enslaved. And, you cannot reduce the most intimate human act to the status of a commodity that can be traded or bartered. Paying higher taxes is not the same as being legally bound to sleep with someone, which is state-mandated rape.
The column referenced 'incels', or involuntary celibates--socially awkward men who lust after cheerleader types and hate such girls for spurning them or because they imagine that those girls will spurn them. These men lurk in the dregs of the internet and the craziest ones carry out mass murders. The New York Times was essentially saying that while he don't support their violent actions, their grievance was legitimate. That it is entirely legitimate to expect thin, blond women with big breasts to sleep with you. And with that, he turned the politics of desire article on its head. The author of that article had taken great pains to emphasize that examining the politics of desire and having a conversation about sexual marginalisation was not the same as asserting the right to sex. I come from a country which is teeming with 'incels' and which has staggering levels of sexual violence because many men assert this "right". Sexual marginalisation is a real thing. But there is a world of difference between empowerment, and entitlement enacted through violent means.

University of Life

I went for another discussion of the philosophy club today just to take mind off my thesis. It worked, I suppose. It was mostly boring, but a different variety of boring. We were divided into two groups and, based on the snippets of conversation from the other group that floated into my ears, I wish I had joined the other group. My group had people from diverse backgrounds, or, rather, as much diversity as you can get with a white middle-aged and old crowd from a lower-middle class background. I think I am beginning to tire of it. The level of discourse is good, and the people are unpretentious. But, it just feels like too much of an effort to be the only foreigner in the group. I don't feel uncomfortable any more, it is just tiring. The no-expectations, no-effort strategy is working like a charm, but my focus has shifted from not wanting to feeling out of place to wanting to feel like I belong in a particular place. I am no longer satisfied with just not feeling uncomfortable, I want to be comfortable, to banter, to tease, to be teased. And, if that is hard to find, I would rather be alone and be all the better for it.

Illegals

The WindRush scandal was the tip of the iceberg, as many people had suspected. Yesterday, it emerged that the Home Office had falsely accused 7,000 foreign students of cheating on their English proficiency tests and told them to leave the country, without giving them a chance to appeal. But what really incensed me was a discussion between two colleagues in my PhD room. One of them, who is as Asian on a student visa just like me, was saying that Labour was using the issue to attack the government and that "illegal immigrants" should not be allowed to stay. The government was right to have targets for deportation. I was too worked up to argue that having a target for deportations was like having a target for prison populations. Surely, it should depend on the crime? What is the point at which an "immigrant" becomes illegal? Even if she or he overstays their visa, shouldn't they have a right to explain why they did so? Definitions of "illegal" change with government policy, and someone who is illegal today might not be tomorrow (I don't even want to get into the semantics and morals of the word "illegal", mainly because the people who believe in deportation targets are unlikely to give a toss about the power of words. To be fair, my colleague is a mainstream-as-they-come who believes in quantifying everything, which is possibly why he supports deportation targets).
I don't have a clear view on "open borders", and I wish I could bring myself to support them unequivocally. But, surely there is a middle ground between "open borders" and a "hostile environment"? And, what really gets my goat is black and brown people who identify with the white middle-class rather than with other immigrants of colour. Especially, when some of the people being targeted are exactly like them--foreign students, not cleaners or fruit-pickers.
The Tory party reacted in characteristic fashion by appointing a brown man as Home Secretary. I feel you have to a particularly nasty to be a PoC Tory. However, I realize immigration is not such a big issue for everyone as it is for me. My cousins who work in finance support the Tories because of their pro-financial sector policies (although, they are not Tory ministers/MPs/members and do not have the power to influence immigration policy).
This brings me back to my point that political views are more emotional and grounded in personal circumstance and experience than rational. This might read like an apology for apathy, but I do believe empathy has limits, as much as I wish it didn't.