Flying north from Juneau

     Returning home to Alaska, much like riding a foreign bus through Brooklyn or Queens, is a constant discovery of the radically new amidst the so-called familiar. 
    The plane that brought me up here to Haines from Juneau was a striking reminder of such.
     It also functioned nicely as the latest installment of what I call "The Lenseless Chronicles": those breathtaking occasions of my life in which I managed not to have my camera on me, narratives spanning everything from the Berlin Wall to that frigid November day in 2001 when in British Columbia my dog cornered a mountain goat on the brink of a precipice. (Both goat and dog emerged unharmed.) 
     It's a five hour flight from New York to Seattle, and a two hour flight from Seattle to Juneau, and even at the end of that exhausting pilgrimage, one is still eighty miles south of Haines, my childhood home.
     There exist two options for closing the remaining gap: a five-hour ride on the Alaska State Ferry, or a forty-minute ride on a single-prop, eight-passenger airplane, the like of which Alaskan mythology is based upon. Though the ferry is my preferred mode of transport, not to mention the cheaper of the two, connection times prevented me from partaking this time 'round, so instead I hopped a veteran performer of the tireless Wings of Alaska and headed north into the 5PM sun.
     We sped off the runway and banked to the right. Seated as I was on the starboard side of the aircraft, directly under the wing, I watched the wingtip cut a line across the body of the sprawling Mendenhall Glacier; watched the balloon tire of the plane's landing apparatus slide past the bottomless blue of the Pacific Ocean and the fishing port that huddles to the north of the Juneau Airport.
     I've flown this route dozens of times in my life, and never failed to find it astonishing in its beauty, but have nevertheless grown at least to anticipate the landmarks of the journey. It would be a straight shot up the salty reach of Lynn Canal, North America's deepest fjord, and a final bank and vulture-like circle to the Haines air-strip at the end of the line.
     Only this time it didn't play out quite like that.
     Our pilot, impromptu-style, dropped the suggestion of a "more scenic route," and when the passengers voiced their adamant support of the idea, we cut west off the Canal and up the Endicott River valley, thereby entering what felt to me like a parallel universe, existing in elusive proximity to the route I knew so well.
     A ridge to our right eclipsed the ocean. Jagged peaks on either side soared to a height half again the altitude of our plane. Ice fields and miniature glaciers spilled over their crowns, and newborn streams, fresh from the ice, rushed down the sides of the mountains, down into the encroaching green of the alder jungle.
     We left the Endicott River and continued north.  Ridges beneath us brought the ground within a thousand feet of our posteriors, and then broke without warning into valleys of mud-brown rivers that quintupled the gap between our plane and the Earth, paralyzing abysses that cut out of nowhere. The white points and thin brown wings of Bald eagles circled at the fridges of visibility, as high above the valleys as we were above them.
     At last we came to the Davidson Glacier, a stunning mass of ice that lurches right to the fringes of the ocean, which throughout my life I'd known only from a distance, and only in small part, and now we flew with the whole of its mass right before our eyes, stretching from mountains to saltwater, our pilot turning us to the east to rejoin the Lynn Canal, banking so the plane stood almost on its side, the wingtip pointing out the fissures in the ice, the blue-on-black, the chasms that reached down into that for-God's-sake-I-don't-want-to-think-about-it underworld where fallen hikers just vanish.
     We landed on the airstrip in Haines, my first time home in two years. Shaken from the abruptness of it all, I stepped out onto the runway, the Davidson Glacier Valley still faintly visible in the distance, the smell of cottonwood saturating the air.
     All and all, it felt like a reasonable welcome.

The Norway Massacre: Islamophobia Again Spills Blood

     I've spent the last week visiting my family and childhood home in Haines, Alaska.
     As such, I haven't made it a priority to post on the Norway massacre, a detail for which I apologize, though my feelings on the matter should come as no surprise to my readers.
     People often ask me what inspired me to write a novel on Islamophobia. My answer is brief: Islamophobia is, I feel, the most unacknowledged bigotry of our era.
     I by no means intend to downplay the severity of sexism, or racism toward America's black population, or of xenophobia toward our immigrants, but insofar as I've witnessed ignorance and hatred toward Muslims penetrate even those circles of individuals who oppose the preceding triad of idiocy, I feel the message of my book is one that very much needs to be heard.
    By now, most should be aware that when Anders Behring Breivik put his finger on the trigger, Islamophobia, as articulated on a global scale, was a tremendous part of what inspired him. His manifesto denounced his perceived failure of Norwegian politicians to defend the country against Islamic incursion, and quoted Robert Spencer, operator of the Jihad Watch website, 64 times.       
     Marc Sageman, a consultant on terrorism and a former C.I.A. officer, cited the darling argument of anti-jihadists that the fundamentalist Salafi branch of Islam “is the infrastructure from which Al Qaeda emerged. Well, they and their writings are the infrastructure from which Breivik emerged.”
     Mr. Sageman tempered this claim by saying it was unfair to hold anti-jihadist writers responsible for Mr. Breivik's behavior. Given my belief that everyone must at some point be responsible for his or her actions, I agree, but to claim that a culture of fear and hate can be divorced from fearful and hateful actions is nothing short of absurd.
    Sadly but predictably, this is precisely what the Western media appears to be doing. A recent report from the New York Times suggests that Mr. Breivik is likely insane, a claim that gives me horrifying flashbacks to Jared Lee Loughner and the shooting of Representative Giffords in January. That too was an atrocity that seemed so obvious an extension of the hateful climate surrounding it, but the media quickly de-politicized and de-contexualized the act with the self-same designation of insanity.
     Meanwhile, New York Representative Peter King, chairman of the House Homeland Security Committee, said he had no plans to broaden hearings about the radicalization of Muslim Americans to address terrorist threats from non-Muslims, and proceeded as planned.
      Where and when does it end?

An article I wrote on Islam and feminism has been published online

     I'm excited to announce that an article I composed on feminism in Islam for Encompassing Crescent, an online publication, has now been posted. Thanks to all those who helped me with the editing thereof, and thanks again, Fatih, for providing me with the publishing opportunity.
     The article deals in large part with the subject of Islamophobia, an overall focus of the issue. There are plenty of other articles that are worth checking out as well, and I'd encourage anyone who's interested to take a look.

The Arab Spring: Widening the Lens

   Trying to ascertain the current state of the Arab Spring is a task uniquely vulnerable to the age-old accusation of idealism. To place any meaningful hope in a democratic, sustainable outcome, as I continue to do, is immediately subject to attack.
    This week's issue of The Economist ran a feature on the uprisings.
    Given that The Economist has, on a number of occasions, drunk from the idealist chalice, its overall optimism about the Arab world is perhaps not itself encouraging. It does, however, have a solid track record for promoting broad strokes, big-picture frames of discussion, and, as such, puts a crucial detail in perspective: the fact that the Arab Spring is bigger than the five states that dominate the news.
     If Egypt, Tunisia, Libya, Syria, and Yemen predominate the public imagination, it is due only to their uprisings' having a more overt and recognizable character. But while pundits extrapolate from Egypt's struggles an overall breakdown in the pace of reform, a swelling protest movement in Morocco persuaded King Muhammad VI in March to draft a new constitution, that was overwhelmingly improved on July 1st. Jordan, too, has implemented democratic reforms. And while the Gulf States, minus Yemen, have so far succeeded in keeping their populations quiet through bribery and cash-showers, their actions are, by definition, a response to the mood of the people.
     Constraining the aspirations of an entire region of humanity to the struggles of select states in their midst is much like limiting the breadth of, say, Egypt's revolution to the toppling of Mubarek.
     The moral of the story is to reject myopia. Only from that basis can skepticism, for good or for ill, be properly fostered.

The Egyptian Revolution & the Fallacy of the "Done Deal"

     Every time I encounter another commentator gloomily opining on the "failed outcomes" of Egypt's revolution, I find myself wondering why the devil people were foolish enough to start talking about it in the past-tense. I was dance-in-the-streets happy with Mubarak's fall, and I'm happy to admit it, but how could anyone have expected a tidy solution with a military junta swooping in to take his place?
      Much of the public imagination, along with the media that helps inform it, seems to have chopped Egypt's narrative into two mutually exclusive chapters: "the revolution," ending with Mubarek's ouster, and "the outcome," encompassing everything that followed. Because this model precludes the concept that the revolution is an ongoing process, one that could in fact encompass a very large amount of chapters, any given challenge in the present can be used as a brownie-point deduction  - just one other thing the revolution "failed to make possible."
      Pascal Boniface, a prominent French political analyst, and Director of the Institute for International Relations and Strategies, assures the readers of Egypt's Al-Ahram Daily that what Egypt is going through is normal. "You cannot pass from one system to the other in one day," he says.
     While this outlook might appear to swing to the opposite, permissive side of the spectrum, broadening the time-frame over which we assess results is, I believe, imperative.
      Just yesterday, the Egyptian government fired 669 police officers, recognizing a key demand from protestors that murderous raping factions of the so-called law enforcement body be brought to justice.
      Are these grounds for rejoicing? No, not properly, but it should be grounds enough for remembering that no perception of Egypt is acceptable unless it makes room for surprises.
      Such is the nature of transformation.
   

Asylum applications in the context of the Strauss-Kahn case

     I've maintained throughout, and will continue to maintain, that no amount of indiscretion on the part of the plaintiff in the Strauss-Kahn case gave DSK the right to rape her. Indeed, to assume that her character deficiencies lesson the severity of her trauma is to perpetuate the myth of the "perfect victim" - that is, in order for someone's injury to be valid he or she (but overwhelmingly and regrettably "she") must be unblemished, an extremely oppressive and destructive stereotype.
     That said, it doesn't hurt to point out that the maid's dishonesty on her asylum application might in fact have been completely understandable, and a far cry away from the slyly self-serving gesture the media would have us subscribe to.
    Jesse Ellison, a writer for the website of MSNBC, makes a highly illustrative argument to this effect:

     "Those who, like . . . the woman at the center of the case against Strauss-Kahn, apply for asylum after entering the United States represent just one-tenth of 1 percent of the world's refugees, and for them, according to [Ms.] Arnold-Fernandez [legal expert] it's been, on average, 17 years since they left their home countries. Legal representation is scant, and language is often an issue. But most notably: judges are given tremendous leeway. Approval rates swing wildly from courtroom to courtroom. One court officer can approve 90 percent of the cases that come before the bench, and just down the hall another might decline nine of the 10 that come before him. It's a discretionary system—a 'refugee roulette'—that has contributed to myth-making within immigrant communities, where the stories that 'worked,' are passed around like lucky charms."

     Ms. Arnold-Fernandez, quoted above, goes on to say:

    "'When you're going into a legal proceeding that hasn't been explained to you and you don't have adequate or ethical legal counsel and you know that your life or death may hinge on what you say, the temptation to use a story that worked for someone else is incredibly high . . . We have had clients whose real circumstances are more compelling than the stories they have been advised by others to use. But there's such a lack of adequate legal advice…. And in the absence of accurate information and legal assistance, refugee communities may end up filling in the gaps with inaccurate information.'
    The temptation is so great, she says, that some asylum seekers have been exploited by people charging $100 a pop for stories that "work."

    A non-refugee passing judgment on how a refugee should behave is a lot like someone who is not a victim of sexual assault passing judgment on how a rapist should behave.
    In short, unacceptable.

I refuse to give up on the Strauss-Kahn Case

     Let's get something straight: the charges aren't dropped until someone drops them.
     No matter how many news sources bludgeon us with the purported likelihood of their being dropped, no matter how oppressive the incessant construction of the case's being "in tatters" or "teetering" or "likely to fail," no matter how overwhelming the voices who refer to the prosecution as if it's already collapsed, it's not over until it's biGod over.
     Therefore, with respect to the standing allegation of sexual assault against Dominique Strauss-Kahn, I'd like to champion two encouraging moves.
     One, Keven Thompson, the plaintiff's attorney, has called upon District Attorney Cy Vance, Jr. to step aside. Mr. Thompson is quoted as saying "District Attorney Vance, we ask in earnest that your office voluntarily recuse itself from the Strauss-Kahn case and that you appoint a special prosecutor."  Seeing as Mr. Vance has in fact been prognosticating the failure of the case even more loudly than Strauss-Kahn's defense team, this seems a more than fair demand.
     Second, the maid is seeking damages for defamation and intentional infliction of emotional distress against the New York Post for calling her a prostitute. According her suit: "All of these statements are false, have subjected the plaintiff to humiliation, scorn and ridicule throughout the world by falsely portraying her as a prostitute or as a woman who trades her body for money and they constitute defamation and libel per se."  Speaking as one who, reading the article, wanted to blast the Post's headquarters with sheep excrement, I can only say amen.   
     It bears mentioning that the Post has already dropped at least one other bucket of slime on the plaintiff: its privacy-breaching revelation in May that she lived in housing reserved for individuals with HIV. HousingWorks.org rallied people across the country to contact the Post and condemn its decision. Not content to play the AIDS card on her, the Post went on to call her a whore.
      For that matter, Mr. Vance Jr's counter-productive behavior toward the plaintiff's case has some precedents of its own. Indeed, authorities in New York City have a less than impressive track record where rape is concerned: it took a Change.org campaign to get NYC to look into counting sexual assaults properly.
      It's been said before, but I'll say it again: this a case of critical importance for rape and assault victims all over the city, the country, and the world.
      I, for one, refuse to lose faith.

Chapters 1-5 of Companions of the Garden are now available at Scribd

    I'm excited to announce that Chapters 1-5 of Companions of the Garden can now be read or downloaded from Scribd. You can access them by clicking here, or by clicking the picture on the right side of blog page.
    Both readers and reader feedback are encouraged.
    Thanks, everyone, for their support.

National Organization for Women: National Conference of 2011

     On the downside, the constant deluge prevented us from leaving the hotel for any great length of time, so Sunny Florida might as well have been the rainy five boroughs we left behind. It was just as well, since the 2011 National Conference for NOW was the kind of thing from which it was difficult to disengage.
     Attending the conference last weekend, to say nothing of presenting therein, was an incredible honor, if only to breathe the same air as the countless movers and shakers who have worked so hard to bring gender equality to fruition.
     I took part in two separate panels in the course of my time there.
     The first was part of the Young Feminist Task Force panel. I spoke on the subject of male feminism, and how to recruit men in the struggle for women's rights. Other panelists, including the monumentally inspiring Erin Matson, Action Vice-President of NOW, addressed means of bridging the generational gap between feminists - how to foster mentor/mentee relationships and make the feminist movement a truly ageless machine.
     My other panel also addressed the subject of male feminism, this time in the company of two other men whose commitment to achieving gender equality lent much to admire.
     My presentation began by focusing on my own story of becoming a feminist - what worked for me, what held me back - and then, echoing my focus on the previous panel, how to recruit other men to the cause.
      I was followed by Ben Atherton-Zeman, author of Voices of Men, a one-person play that offers incredibly moving portraits of men and boys making stands against sexism and violence against women. Ben spoke on the stumbling blocks that can arise once men join the movement, including but by no means limited to their tendency to act in a domineering capacity toward fellow female activists.
    Our panel wrapped up with Ken Gruberman, a music copyist, librarian, contractor, orchestrator, score  supervisor, researcher, and six-time winner of the Grammy Award, who in typically humble fashion discussed none of his own accomplishments, but spoke instead to his experience of "living with a powerful woman" - his wife, Ellen Snortland, an astonishing artist and activist in her own right. Ken's presentation also included recordings from his exclusive interview with Dr. Riane Eisler, author of The Chalice and the Blade, who endorsed the need for all genders to participate in the struggle for equality.      
     Long story short, I felt great about the presentation, and working with Ben and Ken was as much of an honor as any I experienced in the course of the conference.
    Jerin moderated my panel with Ben and Ken. She was also involved with two other workshops, one on the intersection of feminism and the immigrant woman's experience, and the other looking at feminism in the context of Islam.
    As Jerin has frequently brought to my attention, I speak from a certain bias where she's concerned. Nonetheless, I have no reservation saying she was outstanding on both panels, particularly the latter, which attracted a number of people whose attitudes toward Islam were, to put it gently, less than enlightened.
    Those who arrived with an inflexible mindset left with an inflexible mindset, but from my vantage point at the video camera, clumsily trying to capture the discussion on tape, I could see many an attendee who were simply misinformed, whose faces slowly shifted from criticism to curiosity as Jerin and the other panelists discussed the Qur'an's strong declaration of equality between men and women, and the role that women have played through the development of the faith. It was a beautiful thing to see.
     Participating as we did in a total of four different discussions, we had limited opportunities to partake in the rest of the conference, but we made sure to attend the closing plenary. Its speakers included Maya Rockymoore, President and CEO of Global Policy Solutions, who made the outrageously cool suggestion that someone wrap the Capitol Building in saran wrap with the label "misogynists work here." Maya was followed by Patricia Shroeder, a former member of Congress and a lifelong activist, who said, "You know your dreams are big enough when they scare you. They have to scare you." As a testament to the thoroughness with which gender norms have saturated my thinking, I'm halfway embarrassed to admit that the line brought me to tears.
     To round out the experience, and to raise the bar on just how many honors a single weekend can contain, Jerin and I closed out the night by sharing dinner with Sonia Fuentes, one of the founding members of NOW, who was gracious enough to give us her time.
     Alongside her incredible strength of character and her immense capacity for story-telling, I was most struck by her willingness to listen, and her openness to new ideas.
     More and more, I feel as if it's the world's most unsung virtue.

DSK & the credibility factor: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn"

     News sources have erupted across the world with the purportedly devastating revelation that Dominique Strauss-Kahn's alleged victim lied on her asylum application and thus, by implication, could have lied about the assault. Coupled with her potential connection to criminal activity, this detail has, as the headlines would have it, led to a sea-change in public perception of the case.
     Never mind that other women have come forward and accused Strauss-Kahn of assaulting them: these "major holes in the maid's credibility" are enough to put the case in jeopardy.
     Even when scenarios don't pit immigrant single-mothers against the world's most powerful men, rapists have an overwhelming tendency to get off free, while the victims are left with the pain of blunted justice to augment the pain of the assault itself. While bloggers, columnists, and commentators go wild with renewed commitment to conspiracy theory, I see this as just another installment in the age-old tradition of victim-blaming.
     The maid has a spotty history, so she must be a liar.
     Strauss-Kahn has a spotty history, but ladies and gentleman of the jury, that has no bearing on the case.
     I read opinions that question why Strauss-Kahn appeared to act so calmly after the alleged assault, how he seemed surprised by his arrest . . . in short, how antithetical his behavior was to that of a guilty man.
        Excuse me: could it be because guilty men are often of the opinion that they've done nothing wrong, that this is in fact a prime characteristic of the criminal? Could it be because he thought himself immune to repercussions, an attitude completely in line with past behavior? And if we want to play the game of logic where people's motives are concerned, why would the maid have fabricated an assault against Strauss-Kahn when she knew the deck was so heavily stacked against her?
      Toying with motives is a slippery slope, but there's nothing ambiguous whatsoever about the reality of power, privilege, and sexual atrocity. While the conspiracy theorists see proof of their positions in the progression of events, I see yet another manifestation of innocence by force and the oppression of the powerless.
      Has the maid lied in the past? Do her phone calls to an incarcerated man indicate that she herself is a criminal?
      Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.