International Women’s Day: A Look Back

International Women’s Day: A Look Back

2014-03-17 

Women garment workers from New York City were at the front line of protests in 1909. Photo from the Socialist Worker website.

So many people from all walks of life now identify with the annual celebration of International Women’s Day (IWD) , it is hard to believe that it all started with women working in factories more than a hundred years ago in countries where industrialisation began such as England, Russia and the United States. Even before the 1900s, workers in factories were labouring more than eighteen hours a day, had no rest days, dismissed once they got sick or injured, paid meagre salaries and often fell into debt and exploitation.

It was a time of collective awareness that saw the first public demonstrations for better working conditions. Women workers from garment, textile and needle factories were at the front line of these protests. Women factory workers in England began marching even earlier in the 1820s. Meanwhile, the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire that claimed the lives of 146 young women shocked American society into realising that these unfortunate women had not even begun to enjoy their lives before their horrible deaths.

Soon a movement called “bread and roses” demanded decent working conditions that would allow women to enjoy the fruits of their income, be respected and have a full life. The “bread and roses” strikes involved thousands of immigrant women workers, as well as World War 1 widows. They were largely ignored by the male-dominated labour movement and public officials who were in collusion with the growing industrial business class, so much that women started organising themselves and held their own massive labour strikes.

From the same ranks came women who thought that in order to be taken seriously they should also take power through the vote. In war-time Russia, women protesting for ‘Bread and Peace’ one day in February which fell on 8 March on the Gregorian calendar successfully achieved their right to vote.  In 1911 and 1912, European countries such as Germany, Denmark, Austria and Switzerland officiated women workers day while Russia made it an official working holiday after the October revolution but since 1965 declared it a non-working holiday.

Finally in 1977, a United Nations General Assembly resolution invited member States to mark International Women’s Day officially in their countries. Today over 100 countries celebrate IWD and March 8^th is a national holiday in  Afghanistan, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Burkina Faso, Cambodia, China (for women only), Cuba, Georgia, Guinea-Bissau, Eritrea, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Madagascar (for women only), Moldova, Mongolia, Montenegro, Nepal (for women only), Russia, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uganda, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Vietnam and Zambia.

Today, women and men celebrate International Women’s Day all over the world in various ways. In this photo, young people from Bangladesh rode bicycles to show their support for women’s rights.,

Meanwhile, women continue to march in the streets hundred years on, in Cambodia, Bangladesh, and Thailand. Demands for decent wage and working conditions, shorter working hours, social and health services, recognition and respect are as real today as they were then. Justice for victims of violence and discrimination are still as elusive. There are still women who are migrants, widows, single mothers, and from ethnic and religious minorities, gravely disadvantaged and vulnerable to abuse.

However, remarkable progress in the area of women’s political and economic status, recognition and legislation of women’s rights have been made throughout the years. Women’s rights movements gave birth to others such as child rights, environment, peace and development rights. These gains have been achieved for us through painstaking and lifelong work of those who have struggled before us.

In Asia, International Women’s Day is observed on the eve of the establishment of the ASEAN Economic Community and the deadline of the Millennium Development Goals. It is everyone’s duty to continue this legacy of struggle for women’s equality and empowerment towards genuine development for all.

From the Diakonia Asia blog. 
Text by Niza Concepcion.
Photos by Socialist Worker and staff of Association of Development for Economic & Social Help (ADESH).

The Choice to be Child Free

The Choice to be Child Free

Sometime in June or July my husband had a vasectomy. It’s something we had talked about at length for nearly the entirety of our relationship up to that point. Which then had been nearly 13 years. We knew from the beginning neither of us really wanted children. We both have pretty awful genetics in terms of addiction, mental health, and physical deformities (though mild), and we also knew that we just didn’t want the responsibility of parenthood.
About four years after we started dating, my husband went for a consultation with his physician about the possibility of a vasectomy.  The doctor told him they would absolutely not perform the procedure since he was under 28, had no children, and was unmarried. I knew from various friends’ experiences that a tubal ligation wouldn’t be an option to me unless I was over 28 or had two or more children. Only now do I know that there are no laws or requirements in the state of Florida beyond a doctor’s willingness to perform a sterilization procedure. I was also not exactly sold on the idea of having an invasive surgical procedure that wasn’t medically necessary.
As a woman you hear things like “You’ll change your mind.” or “How selfish of you to not want children! That’s what your biologically supposed to do! If you don’t have kids you’re going against nature!” So, I held out. I spent five years on the depo provera shot because I had tried the pill during my last relationship and it just didn’t work with my body chemistry. Neither did the depo, but I wasn’t ready for either of us to go ahead with permanent sterilization, just in case what everyone said was true. Maybe I would change my mind and crave my supposed biological imperative.
Eight years passed by of us using multiple forms of contraception. When we were about to marry, I considered the possibility of children again. I would say I seriously considered it to the point of borderline existential crisis. Married people were supposed to have children. If I was about to be married, shouldn’t the next logical step be children? How do you progress a marriage without children? There was a crushing weight of expectation to have children and every time I avoided directly answering the question of “When are you planning to have babies?” I could feel the air around me prickle with disappointment and immediately cleared with a breeze of skepticism and dismissive, self-righteous commentary of “Of course, you’ll have kids! It’s okay to wait a few years.” Which was almost always followed up with “Don’t wait too long though! You only have so much time to do these things! You don’t want to be the old mom!”
The truth was, I didn’t want to be a mom, but I was terrified of what people would think if I openly embraced the decision to remain childless. My husband and I half-joked about how we were never having kids. His favorite response was always that he was the only child our relationship needed. Mine was that he was the only child our relationship could afford! Grown up toys are expensive!
I still don’t want to be a mom. I am almost 33 years old and the older I get, the more certain I am of my choice not to have kids. Only now I have enough faith in myself and my decision to respond to the You’ll-change-your-mind-ers with a polite “No, I won’t.”
Last summer my husband and I discussed the possibility of vasectomy again and decided that not only was it the easiest form of permanent birth control, but it was also the least expensive or invasive, and also the most effective. And if by some weird chance we ever did change our minds, we would look into adoption. He made the appointment, had the procedure — which only took about 20 minutes, and by the next day we were out to lunch with friends.
My husband had his procedure on a Friday afternoon, which meant he had to leave early and there probably wouldn’t be any partying that weekend. But when my husband told his male coworkers he was going in for his vasectomy, more than a few of them said he should made me have a tubal ligation instead. He rolled his eyes and explained that the vasectomy was way better because he would never have to worry about having kids again, wife or not.  He told me the guys had been giving him a hard time and I was admittedly irrationally annoyed. So I did what I always do. I took to the internet and posted this little gem on my tumblr.

Anyone who knows what a tubal ligation entails vs. a vasectomy and still advocates for a woman have an invasive medical procedure requiring anesthesia and incisions rather than an outpatient medical procedure that can take less than 20 minutes and only a few days of recovery (literally, we went to lunch the next day) should probably re-evaluate their life choices. If you value your sperm more than a woman undergoing a major surgical procedure, YOU ARE PROBABLY TERRIBLE.

Yes, I know it’s rude, but in all honesty, if you and your partner are considering permanent sterilization the vasectomy is the least complicated and most effective (failure rate for vasectomies is 1 in 2000 which is considerably better than tubal ligations for which there is one failure in every 200 to 300 cases). I didn’t expect to anyone to reply since my tumblr following is so small, but someone did.

So, your husband should have his ability to produce offspring removed, so you don’t have to? that’s entitlement, and as a result, you’re an entitled bitch.

I didn’t know this person. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know the situation, which I did explain, and still I was called an entitled bitch. All because my husband came up with the idea to have a vasectomy and after much discussion he finally did it. Some how though, it was my fault that his ability to produce offspring was removed. I was the selfish one.
I was selfish if I didn’t have children, I was selfish if my husband chose to sacrifice his reproductive ability for our relationship. If I had children and wasn’t able to care for them the way they deserved, I would be irresponsible and selfish. If I had children and still worked full time, I would be labeled a selfish, entitled bitch because I should be caring for kids instead of focusing on my career and trying to ‘Lean In.’
You know what? I am selfish. I’m selfish because I refuse to be bullied into submission by name calling or passive aggressive know-it-alls. I’m selfish because I would rather choose a child than have a child. I’m selfish because I don’t know if I would be a good parent and I refuse to take the risk of completely screwing up another person’s life just to fulfill some socio-biological imperative.
I’m okay with that. --Camicia Bennett

The Elephant Nature Park Rescue and Rehabilitation shelter in Chiangmai Thailand

My brother and his son, my six year old nephew visited me in Chiangmai for the first time this week. On Monday we went to an elephant shelter for abused and exploited elephants. My little nephew had never seen real live elephants before so he was all for feeding, petting and giving them a bath in the lake around the park. We joined a group of 10 visitors for a day-long interaction with the elephants which had one form of deformity or another. All of these elephants were rescued from villages, logging industries, tour companies and even neighboring Burma. All are being healed, rehabilitated and given a place of peace and safety from any human activity except for the care and recovery they receive at the shelter. I've been so amazed at the way my nephew treated those elephants. He did not see their "disabilities"-he just loved them all! Being the only child in the group he was constantly reminded to "go closer, she can't walk far- her leg's broken", or "don't let her reach too far for the food, she's totally blind"... the child adjusted himself to the situation immediately! No questions, no pity looks, no drama. And yet who told him about all the horrible things that got them that way? US! Without asking for it my nephew got an education in how bad people can get at the same time that he learned to love elephants in real life. Stupid adults. Why couldn't we just let him enjoy the moment first and wait for him to ask the questions later? Another hard lesson that only children can teach us...

Top Ten Most Influential Feminist Books | Infoplease.com

Geez, I better start collecting them.  I have a niece now and I better be leaving her some of the good things in life.

Top Ten Most Influential Feminist Books | Infoplease.com

Journalists easy targets in the Philippines - Al Jazeera Blogs

According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, 72 journalists have been killed in the last 10 years alone in the Philippines, a figure second only to Iraq.

Journalists easy targets in the Philippines - Al Jazeera Blogs

Thai Language Thai Culture: Ten Steps to Learning Thai

I am just pulling my hair over my homework now :(

Thai Language Thai Culture: Ten Steps to Learning Thai

Motorcycle trauma and the helmet that goes with it

A few days ago, my colleague taught me the basics of... well...starting and moving a motorcycle. In a secluded street in the middle of the day it was easy to go, break, go, break, in a speed and lane of my choosing, where all the cars are parked. I was ecstatic that I learned something new yet again, so I bought a trendy new helmet to go with it, one that looks like an ordinary cap but is made with real helmet material for serious motorists. And so I wore that helmet today, my first day out on the road with the motorbike issued by the office-every staff can have one if they don't own a car or bicycle. My colleague who had lent me her bicycle rode alongside a little bit of the way on her own motorbike but soon I proceeded alone to navigate the busy roads to my gym near the Chiang Mai airport.

I realised quickly whenever I neared any intersection with a red traffic light that I have trouble coordinating the brake with the gas. To my horror, it dawned on me that the left foot pedals where one raises or lowers gears are not suited to the size of my left foot. Meanwhile the right handle bar of the motorcycle where the 'gas' is, is also where the only hand brake is. I am also completely unaccustomed to balancing my weight on a motorcycle at low speeds, such that if I try to squeeze between cars like other motorbike drivers, I WOBBLE!

By the time I got to the moat in the middle of the city I swore that I wouldn't be sweating this much from nervousness if I was on a bicycle. But pour it did, and I had no choice but to take it all the way. I had to look down to shift gears, which is extremely dangerous in these busy rush hour streets. Each time I reach for the hand brake my palm rubs against the gas too so my bike jumps instead of braking! I should have known better than to get too close to other motorists. At the intersection near the mall where my gym is, what happened was exactly as I feared: at the red light I tried to squeeze into the lane between motorcycles and cars, at the same time trying to catch the down shift and braking with the hand. I had completely forgotten my foot brake and had jumped my bike into the motorcycle in front of me, where a lady was driving her son home from school. Luckily it wasn't a hard bump as I was almost stopping already. I apologised profusely, not letting on that I am inexperienced and am driving without a license. I also asked if I was on the right lane...just to keep them from focusing on the small 'bump'.

As if this was not enough, as soon as I put my hands on the handles the bike jumped again and again it plowed into the side of the car to my right. This time a boy got out to look at the paint. I honestly don't know how I got out of that one. There was a little scratch, but it seemed that the boy was more concerned whether I dented the car. He simply went back inside and all of us started up at the green light, and went our way.

The last thing I needed, being already shaken up by the car incident, was to lose my concentration while entering the parking space at the mall. Having trouble navigating small entrances/exits I AGAIN nearly plowed into the parking lot attendant. This time I was sure they were going to call the police because they looked as shocked as I am. Surely this has never happened to them before...EVER! Finally I got my ticket and asked as casually as I can (although I could feel my voice shaking) in English-so as to be taken as the "silly foreigner" instead of the looney local, "is there a payment for parking?".

Upon reaching the gym I was physically shaking with the stress and anxiety. I never wanted to use that motorcycle again, but how will I get home? In a place where everything closes at 9:00pm wasn't I excited about having the motorbike so I could stay late and drive home any time I wanted? Wasn't the motorbike my ticket to the late night bars, night market, karaoke and far away temples and parks?

I was in a daze, like someone who was involved in an accident but couldn't believe she got out alive... I glared at my trainor in case she asks me to start with a warm up. But I found myself stepping on a warm up machine, absent mindedly doing my exercises. I was in shock. My hands were shaking on the machine bars. My eyes were unfocused. I had to compose myself because it's not like my Pilates session will calm my nerves-- in fact it will stretch my body like torture!"Should I go on with this or should I just go home--NO NO-- home means using that bike again..."

"My God I really have to get my own bicycle now because I already told my colleague she can take hers back since I've "learned" to drive the motorbike..."

I realised that one, well...one, I was praying--here-- in the middle of my exercise. Two, that I am in such a trauma to get me praying here and now. Three, I have to tell somebody and get help calming myself down. There was no one else I can call (hands still shaking too badly to hold the phone) except my trainor. So while pushing the pilates pads I told her about my ordeal. She was shocked that I could attempt to go on this 'SUV-speeding' highway on my first motorbike ride (but speed wasn't my problem, it was slowing down and navigating the narrow spaces...). The fact that she looked truly afraid for me made me doubt my decision to do this. But, as my friend Juliette says: "in my heart"... I knew I had to try it. I mean, where else will I learn? On a video game?

The tremors didn't go away during my Pilates exercise so my trainor sought to help me relax by showing me pictures of nearby lakes and parks around the city which I can visit, and by reminding me of the upcoming flower festival. But she couldn't help herself from stressing "this one is just an hour's bicycle ride...this one not 20 minutes on bicycle...here I can take you on MY motorbike". So sweet of her but also so telling of my future fate with the motorized world. I wanted to cry...she must've seen my face because finally she said: "you will get used to it and then it will get better". I wanted to hug her but my torso was entangled in the chain and bars of the...thing.

At last my training session ended and I dreaded going out to the parking lot. I did not want to stay later than 9:00 pm after all.I had dinner to buy me some more time. Finally all the shops closed. My footsteps became heavy and my heart started pounding as I made my way to the motorbike. I became wobbly again at the narrow exit gates of the parking lot and had to literally throw the parking ticket I was returning, to the attendant. I made a mental note to use the other parking lot next time, because this one surely knows by now and I can't return to it without a license.

Fortunately my ride home was less eventful and thankfully, with lesser cars on the road (Jesus, people really turn in early here). I've made a successful second run on Mahidol highway, and finally turned into the street leading to my condo. My shakes were gone by the time I reached the condo parking lot and I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Tomorrow I am taking this motorbike to the office but will go home with the bicycle.

When I reached my room I texted my trainor to thank her for listening to me. She texted back her reassurance and confirmed that when we do go to the lake it will be my turn to help her overcome her fear of drowning by teaching her how to swim. It's a good deal.

Goodnight Trainor Cooper, I look forward to that lake.