For months, every morning when my daughter was in preschool, I watched her construct an elaborate castle out of blocks, colorful plastic discs, bits of rope, ribbons and feathers, only to have the same little boy gleefully destroy it within seconds of its completion.
No matter how many times he did it, his parents never swooped in BEFORE the morning’s live 3-D reenactment of “Invasion of AstroMonster.” This is what they’d say repeatedly:
“You know! Boys will be boys!”
“He’s just going through a phase!”
“He’s such a boy! He LOVES destroying things!”
“Oh my god! Girls and boys are SO different!”
“He. Just. Can’t. Help himself!”
I tried to teach my daughter how to stop this from happening. She asked him politely not to do it. We talked about some things she might do. She moved where she built. She stood in his way. She built a stronger foundation to the castle, so that, if he did get to it, she wouldn’t have to rebuild the whole thing. In the meantime, I imagine his parents thinking, “What red-blooded boy wouldn’t knock it down?”
She built a beautiful, glittery castle in a public space.
It was so tempting.
He just couldn’t control himself and, being a boy, had violent inclinations.
She had to keep her building safe.
Her consent didn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like she made a big fuss when he knocked it down. It wasn’t a “legitimate” knocking over if she didn’t throw a tantrum.
His desire — for power, destruction, control, whatever- - was understandable.
Maybe she “shouldn’t have gone to preschool” at all. OR, better if she just kept her building activities to home.
I know it’s a lurid metaphor, but I taught my daughter the preschool block precursor of don’t “get raped” and this child, Boy #1, did not learn the preschool equivalent of “don’t rape.”
Not once did his parents talk to him about invading another person’s space and claiming for his own purposes something that was not his to claim. Respect for her and her work and words was not something he was learning. How much of the boy’s behavior in coming years would be excused in these ways, be calibrated to meet these expectations and enforce the “rules” his parents kept repeating?
There was another boy who, similarly, decided to knock down her castle one day. When he did it his mother took him in hand, explained to him that it was not his to destroy, asked him how he thought my daughter felt after working so hard on her building and walked over with him so he could apologize. That probably wasn’t much fun for him, but he did not do it again.
There was a third child. He was really smart. He asked if he could knock her building down. She, beneficent ruler of all pre-circle-time castle construction, said yes… but only after she was done building it and said it was OK. They worked out a plan together and eventually he started building things with her and they would both knock the thing down with unadulterated joy. You can’t make this stuff up.
Take each of these three boys and consider what he might do when he’s older, say, at college, drunk at a party, mad at an ex-girlfriend who rebuffs him and uses words that she expects will be meaningful and respecte, “No, I don’t want to. Stop. Leave.”
The “overarching attitudinal characteristic” of abusive men is entitlement.
(Source: lastlifeinuniverse, via starrcat)
![overlookingtibet:
More images at the source. [Russian language]
Someone else on tumblr posted a couple images from Wang Yiguang’s collection of paintings and instantly, I felt a little queasy.
For one thing, in every image, Tibetan people and yaks and other animals are flying. This has roots in a well-known myth that Tibetan monks have the ability to levitate and fly and that the Tibetan people are somehow more connected to nature than the rest of the world as well as being able to master certain aspects of the natural world that non-Tibetans are unable to. (This is not to say that certain things, such as Tibetan monks in meditation being able to retain their body temperature, are not true.) All of the people have carefree smiles, implying a sort of freedom and happiness. Rather than being suspended as a nation-less, oppressed people, they’re portrayed as fairytale beings quite content with their surroundings.
Their surroundings are the traditional fare: yaks, mountains, snow as well as the more modern: a man decked out in Amdo Tibetan traditional dress riding a motorcycle. More insidious, however, are the railway tracks that feature in several of the paintings. The railway, known as the Qinghai-Tibet railway, which has come under fire by pro-Tibet groups for, among other things, promoting Han Chinese migration into Tibet as well as the mass transportation of natural resources out of Tibet.
Interestingly enough, wikipedia states that Wang Yiguang is currently working as a designer for the China Railway Construction Corporation. It can therefore be assumed that the act of placing rail tracks in many of his paintings is both a nod to the continued alteration of the Tibetan plateau by the Communist Chinese government as well as subtle propaganda that many viewers might miss.
His comments, furthermore, do nothing but further promote the Shangri-la myth of Tibet being a place where earthly and spiritual peace can be found:
I have been able to visit the Tibetan plateau a number of times. I’ve been deeply touched by the breathtaking landscape of Tibet and the happy-go-lucky spirit of the Tibetan people. The Tibetan people’s profound regard for the natural world and animals has also cast a life-long impression on me. Their unwavering optimism, all-encompassing and peaceful way of life, are in extreme contrast with the psychological states of modern city dwellers. In my works of life on the Tibetan Plateau, I focus more on movement, so as to convey the beauty of extreme tension and moments of life. When I was in Tibet, I spent a lot of my time lying down in the grass, as I suffered from acute mountain sickness. As I lay there gasping for air, a delightful picture revealed itself before me: a couple of young, spry Tibetan girls racing about the countryside with their herd of yaks. These Tibetan girls reminded me of ‘Feitian’, the flying Devi (literally: ‘goddess’)*, when they are still earthly beings. The fairy tale relationship between man and yak, also called “ship of the plateau”, came to life right before my eyes. In my series of paintings on the Tibetan plateau, I try to convey the unique psychological journey I experienced during this time. Similarly, these feelings surfaced through long periods of “observing and reflecting”. This dream-like state has in turn added a romantic dimension to my works, which can be seen in paintings such as “Sun in a Distant Place” and “Towards the Sun”. By applying surrealistic elements the transfer of images can be fully articulated.
In my oil paintings I try and convey my feelings for a target, as though I were encountering it for the first time. I do this by trying to capture its characteristics and intrinsic humour. I believe that painters should integrate their own impression of a certain experience, observation and/or response in their work so as to create expressive images.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/d3b5aa10dcf1182307bcdfbf82fa164f/tumblr_mmi3ydLAxl1rpvwb4o1_250.jpg)
More images at the source. [Russian language]
Someone else on tumblr posted a couple images from Wang Yiguang’s collection of paintings and instantly, I felt a little queasy.
For one thing, in every image, Tibetan people and yaks and other animals are flying. This has roots in a well-known myth that Tibetan monks have the ability to levitate and fly and that the Tibetan people are somehow more connected to nature than the rest of the world as well as being able to master certain aspects of the natural world that non-Tibetans are unable to. (This is not to say that certain things, such as Tibetan monks in meditation being able to retain their body temperature, are not true.) All of the people have carefree smiles, implying a sort of freedom and happiness. Rather than being suspended as a nation-less, oppressed people, they’re portrayed as fairytale beings quite content with their surroundings.
Their surroundings are the traditional fare: yaks, mountains, snow as well as the more modern: a man decked out in Amdo Tibetan traditional dress riding a motorcycle. More insidious, however, are the railway tracks that feature in several of the paintings. The railway, known as the Qinghai-Tibet railway, which has come under fire by pro-Tibet groups for, among other things, promoting Han Chinese migration into Tibet as well as the mass transportation of natural resources out of Tibet.
Interestingly enough, wikipedia states that Wang Yiguang is currently working as a designer for the China Railway Construction Corporation. It can therefore be assumed that the act of placing rail tracks in many of his paintings is both a nod to the continued alteration of the Tibetan plateau by the Communist Chinese government as well as subtle propaganda that many viewers might miss.
His comments, furthermore, do nothing but further promote the Shangri-la myth of Tibet being a place where earthly and spiritual peace can be found:
I have been able to visit the Tibetan plateau a number of times. I’ve been deeply touched by the breathtaking landscape of Tibet and the happy-go-lucky spirit of the Tibetan people. The Tibetan people’s profound regard for the natural world and animals has also cast a life-long impression on me. Their unwavering optimism, all-encompassing and peaceful way of life, are in extreme contrast with the psychological states of modern city dwellers. In my works of life on the Tibetan Plateau, I focus more on movement, so as to convey the beauty of extreme tension and moments of life. When I was in Tibet, I spent a lot of my time lying down in the grass, as I suffered from acute mountain sickness. As I lay there gasping for air, a delightful picture revealed itself before me: a couple of young, spry Tibetan girls racing about the countryside with their herd of yaks. These Tibetan girls reminded me of ‘Feitian’, the flying Devi (literally: ‘goddess’)*, when they are still earthly beings. The fairy tale relationship between man and yak, also called “ship of the plateau”, came to life right before my eyes. In my series of paintings on the Tibetan plateau, I try to convey the unique psychological journey I experienced during this time. Similarly, these feelings surfaced through long periods of “observing and reflecting”. This dream-like state has in turn added a romantic dimension to my works, which can be seen in paintings such as “Sun in a Distant Place” and “Towards the Sun”. By applying surrealistic elements the transfer of images can be fully articulated.In my oil paintings I try and convey my feelings for a target, as though I were encountering it for the first time. I do this by trying to capture its characteristics and intrinsic humour. I believe that painters should integrate their own impression of a certain experience, observation and/or response in their work so as to create expressive images.
Chandranath Acharya, “Slum dog millionair”
(click through for his website/portfolio!)
Dayanita Singh, “File Room”. 2011. 5 Silver gelatin prints. 38x38 cm.
(Click through for Frith Street Gallery bio.)
Spotted at the Before I Die Wall at The George Washington University in Washington, D.C.
Let’s make this 100th photo of my Instagram as a support towards the Palestinians by like it and repost it. #My100thIGPhoto #Palestine #Anonymous #Gaza #SavePalestine Photo by: @r3volt_now
Leila Khaled : A Complete Idiot’s Guide to Armed Resistance.
“Do you expect our people to throw roses at the planes that killed our children? No. Resistance is something Human!”
