A Post On Poetry Nobody Will Probably Care About

Well, I thought of this the other day in relation to Jen's topic, but then I came down with a serious case of Spring Break syndrome. So basically I've been lazing around doing nothing the past few days. Anyway, I'm going to say some things in this post that will probably offend some of the liberal readers. But again, I'm probably the most left leaning person on this blog (socialist). I'm just going to lay down some broad generalizations. So feel free to flame.

In the poetry world, as is common knowledge, it is easy to get a book published if you make it about your "identity." That is, if you are from a non-majority culture, especially one that is rare, then if you write your book about wrestling with your identity, it can probably be published. Are your parents Zimbabwean lawyers? Write some poems! Is your father from Iceland and mother from Lilliput? Write poems! Win some awards! (Well, Jane Miller, a pretty big poet and smart person said identity poetry is dead, but I don't think it is quite yet. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part).

Anyway, I've always felt this trend is the poetry world's equivalent of ethno-tourism. The vast majority of poetry readers, if I may generalize for a moment, are wealthy white liberals. When they read books about, say, a Saudi woman emigrating to America or poor gay black man in the American south, they can in turn say "See? I support all of these diverse ethnic groups. I'm not a racist, classist, or homophobe. Look at my books! Sure, my friends are all white and I drive a big gas guzzling SUV, but I read about these poor others. That means I'm a good person."

This sort of attitude is something that's always bothered me about liberals (I'm generalizing for the sake of my argument. Obviously, it's only a certain kind of liberal I'm complaining about). When I worked at Publix in Tallahassee, rich white liberals would come into the store a lot, and then speak to the black cashiers or baggers like they could actually identify with them just because they watched some special on Thelonius Monk the previous night on PBS. (Here's a story that doesn't really fit my argument, but is pretty funny anyway: I remember one time in particular when this bagger, Terrence, asked an older white lady what kind of music she liked. Her response was "Well, classic rock, country, some hip hop." Hip hop? Give me a break! You've never listened to one rap song in your life unless it was playing in a movie by Michael Moore. You don't have to say hip hop just because a black man asked you what kind of music you like. He won't think you're racist if you don't say hip hop.)

Well, that last paragraph sort of strayed from my argument. That's another reason I didn't post on Friday. Because I knew I didn't have the energy to make my post coherent. I guess I've already established I'm not the brains of this operation.

Anyway, one more issue with ethno-tourism in poetry books, and other books. When I was at AWP in Atlanta I went to a panel my friend Hayan was on, about Arab-American writers in the 21st century. One of the panelists (whose name I forget because I am a bad person) discussed that it's easy to get a novel or memoir published if it's told from the perspective of an Arab, but only if that perspective shows how bad the culture is, and the main character is rejecting the culture. She named a couple of examples, one of which I think was called Raghead, though I am not a good enough blogger to look past two pages of google search results, that had female protagonists who were routinely abused in their Arab cultures, and then escaped them for the land of the free. Something else for readers to read and then be relieved that we're bombing civilians. I guess that excuses things, their crazy mixed up culture.

Sorry, this was not a very good blog. I have ADD.

People Are Strange When You're A Stranger

I'm afraid I haven't had much time to think about this topic during the week, so I'll try to keep this brief, mainly just so I could say I posted.

Sean brought up the point that you could just barter. The problem with that is you still have to choose very carefully. I (technically) minored in anthropology (technical only because I never declared) and this was a topic we discussed - not ethno-tourism per se, but needing to be careful about interaction with other cultures. One technique used to be able to study tribes is to bring gifts or things to trade, but as with money, the wrong items can totally throw off the structure of the society. Bringing these gifts shows that you aren't hostile, but a dependence on these items can be dangerous. I wish I could give some good examples, but it's been a few years since I had any classes.

There's also the point that the encroachment of modern civilization may cause a change in their customs and way of life. If you have people come through all the time, eventually you would pick up some of their mannerisms, style of dress, etc. Then they would lose what made them special, what was bringing people there in the first place. Kinda like Times Square - I was there last night with Laurie, and it was packed! But about 90% of the people were tourists - they go there and then think that that's what New York is really like, but it's only that certain section, and it's that way mainly because of tourism.

I couldn't imagine if people came into my town and started taking pictures of me and gawking. It would be different if they were really interested in the culture, and I'm sure a good portion of these tourists are, but they must also be instilled with the idea that they need to adapt to the surroundings and the society they are entering and respect it. I don't go to France and photograph the people there, why do it elsewhere? (And yes, you could argue that their culture is very similar to ours, but I don't think I'd do it in China or Somalia either.) To help put this into perspective (maybe) read this article on the Nacirema.

And as far as ethnocentrism (believing our culture to be the best), I don't think that's always the motive behind it. Like Nick, I would probably even envy some of these tribes because they have the luxury of being so secluded.

That's all I have - sorry if this was kinda crap, like I said - I'm tired and didn't have much time to think about this before posting.

Tourism, Voyeurism and Photography

For starters, if you haven’t read the article Voyeurismo by Roger Sandall, which Jen linked to in her post, go read it now.

I do a lot of traveling. While I have never ventured to the sort of remote and utterly undeveloped villages described in Sandall’s piece, I have certainly visited places that are less and/or differently developed than the US. I love exploring other countries and experiencing new cultures. I also love to take photographs. Photography has been a hobby of mine for years. However, if you take a look at my photographs (sorry, shameless plug, I know) you will notice that there are very few people in my photos other than my friend’s and family. Those few strangers who do appear in my photos usually only appear at a distance.

Last year, when I was living in Russia, one of my readers wrote to ask me if the population of Vladimir (the city in which I was living) was really small, or if the locals simply kept off the streets as much as possible. Well, for one thing, the population of Vladimir is around 400,000. For another, those of you who are familiar with the Russian culture of gulyat’ (walking around and hanging out with your friends outside) will probably feel as shocked by this question as I did. But, then I realized that if one were evaluating Vladimir by my photographs alone, one might easily conclude that it was inhabited by a small number of anti-social people! The same conclusion might be reached by someone viewing my photographs from my current location of Daegu, South Korea (pop. 4 million).

Vladimir, Russia

See, I’m one of those people who is simply not comfortable taking photographs of strangers. There are several reasons for this. One reason is that I’m pretty shy when it comes to talking to strangers. I feel that if I’m going to take a picture of a person I don’t know, I should ask first. (Seriously, how would you feel if some obviously foreign stranger started photographing you without asking?) Being that I’m not likely to talk to strangers in general, it’s highly unlikely that I’m going to ask their permission for a photograph.

Putting my anti-social tendencies aside, I have other reasons for being wary when it comes to photographing strangers when overseas.

Here in Korea, there are many outdoor markets, the likes of which I’ve never seen back home. I love them: the bustling crowds weaving in and out of a hodgepodge of unregulated stalls and stands, from which vendors sell all sorts of foods and goods which cannot be found in the States. The sights and sounds and smells always make a trip to an outdoor market a full sensory experience, and I love going. Every time I wander through a market, I would love to whip out my camera and take hundreds of photos, but instead the most I’ve managed are a few hasty shots here and there, taken when no one was watching.

For one thing, Korea has quite the social hierarchy, and the people who work in these markets are pretty near the bottom. Meanwhile I, as a white, English-speaking foreigner, am pretty high up on the totem pole. I worry that if I were to go into a market and start photographing, they would feel as though I were looking down on them. Oh, look at these quaint lower-class Koreans, selling fish! While *I* know that I wouldn’t be looking down on them, would they? In a culture where showing respect for others is paramount, I worry that if I were to start photographing people willy-nilly, I would end up offending willy-nilly.

One of my very few Korean market shots.

Of course, that is my own personal perception, and it is undoubtedly influenced a good bit by my anti-social nature. There are many photographers in the world (both amateur and professional) who excel at photographing human subjects across the globe. I admit that I enjoy many such photos, especially ones which come from cultures about which I have little to no knowledge. (My friend Chris took some excellent photos of people when he was in China which can be viewed here, here and here.) I envy photographers who can pull this off, just a little, although I know I’ll never be one of them.

Here’s the story of the one time I did make an effort to photograph people: Several years ago I lived in San Diego, CA. As many San Diegans do, I went across the border into Tijuana, Mexico a handful of times. In February 2004, I went by myself down to TJ for the purpose of taking photos. I wanted to try and capture the TJ seen by most American tourists. If you’ve never been there, let me just say that it is a depressing place, full of pollution and poverty. There are many beggars, and many of them are children. Some of these kids are selling things, such as necklaces or gum, others juggle items in hopes of money, while others simply ask for money.

I felt that if my goal was to try and capture the essence of TJ, I needed to photograph these kids as they were part of that. So I took pictures of some of them, although I compensated for what I felt was an intrusion by purchasing some of their wares or simply giving them some money, depending. And I’ve felt guilty about this ever since. Essentially, I was teaching these kids that it was OK to pose for photos taken by American tourists in exchange for a little bit of coinage. Was I leading them down the road towards participation in child pornography or prostitution? I still do feel quite guilty about taking these photos.

Begging girl, Tijuana, Mexico

The Americans Must Be Crazy

[I got all thrown off because Jen's post was a day late- so I think I'm a day late too. Please feel free, whoever is supposed to post today, to post today. I won't mind.]

I have no personal experience with this type of thing (I've never left America) and have never thought about this before Jen's post.

I would like to think the type of negative tourism doesn't happen often- as in, going to another country to treat the locals like shit and have a negative impact on them. I'm sure it does happen. But I am not against people going to other countries, even those less "developed" than ours, and touring. I think it's a good thing to see other cultures, and, since a theory is that civilization began in Africa (a country that gets a good chunk of this kind of tourism), I think it's a positive thing to see that region and how people there live. I think that one cannot assume to know what someone's motivations are in traveling to and touring these places- one would obviously like to think people go there to learn, to explore, to understand, to admire; I would like to think that most people do go with that motivation and attitude, but obviously there will be people who go with less positive motivations.

I have a co-worker who travels to Africa every year. From the stories I've heard, the locals love having the foreigners there, especially if you bring them things (and they seem to expect you to give them or trade them something). Also, your idea of the locals making foreigners pay for things is not too far off- my friend says that they will let you take their picture, but you have to give them money. Good for them. But the stories that I hear are wonderful. The only remotely first-hand experience I have are the shows on the Travel channel (especially the ones with Michael Palin). The things that I feel when seeing these people in their tribes and in their element are not superiority or pity etc. I can almost feel some envy- imagine living in a world without the worried and bullshit that we have to deal with: traffic, money problems, social bullshit, materialism, American Idol (and for that matter, all the shit on TV), etc. They live simply, they are happy- and if an effect is that foreigners come back to their normal lives and do feel lucky, and do savor something simple like a shower or a restaurant meal, that's not a bad thing. As far as looking down on people and feeling superior, we have plenty of that even in our own country, with Northerners/Southerners, rich/poor, young/old, educated/not educated, etc. It seems to me, also, that any tribe or village or town etc. that does not want foreigners to come through don't let them do so; they are in their element, after all.

I remember having a pen pal in Ghana when I was little. We would send things like coins and pictures and other stuff to each other. It was very cool, and those things are saved somewhere up at my parents' house. Even as a little kid, I thought it was fascinating and enlightening to learn about how they lived and get the perspective that, as Morrissey says, America is not the world. Sure, there will always be jerks who go to gawk, like kids do at those National Geographic magazine with naked tribespeople in them. But we can hope that the locals will do what they can to take advantage of those people.

Naked Tourists

Geeze, I thought this blog was supposed to just be for fun. I didn't realize I had such a heavy responsibility here.

I was out of town all weekend and was very busy all day yesterday (left my house at 8am, returned at 10pm, still had to do laundry and eat). I hate to use work time to do this, especially when I have more than enough to keep me busy here, so this will be short. Maybe later tonight I'll add more substantial thoughts.

One of my favorite Web sites is Arts and Letters Daily. It's a collection of articles, opinion pieces, and book reviews from around the world (but all at least translated into English) and from a wide-range of viewpoints. Best of all, there's no direct news, although many posts relate to the implication or analysis of specific current events, so it removes one from the crushing overabundance of headlines and sound-bytes usually encountered on the Internet.

I recently read an article on A&L called Voyeurismo posted on The Culture Cult and written by Roger Sandall. It’s part book review, but like all decent reviews, it raises questions and makes observations about the society for and about which the book was written.

Sandall reviews Lawrence Osborne’s The Naked Tourist, which describes a particular “ethno-tourism” adventure. What? I didn’t know either, but apparently for a steep fee, “civilized” people from developed countries, bored with their fat and easy existence, can take guided tours into “uncharted” territory and come face-to-face with natives who may or may not have ever seen a white man. A quick Amazon search shows that this book is not necessarily unique.

Now, this adventure is no small task—-it’s not like the tour takes a cruise ship up the Amazon. There’s a lot of hiking and climbing and falling and general discomfort. But clearly, traveling by choice to gawk uninvited at a different culture, especially with the pre-supposition that your own comfortable culture is superior, necessarily raises some morality questions. To be fair, I think this sounds like an exciting opportunity—-to hike into an area where very few people have been, to see things very few people have seen, to have completely unique experiences… then to come back to my apartment, to take a hot shower, to rest in my soft bed, and to bore all my friends with a slideshow and long description of my adventures. But what does this mean to my own sense of cultural superiority? I like to think of myself as accepting and curious about other lifestyles, and I think this is precisely the market (plus a few thousand dollars and a more mature sense of ennui) intended for this type of trip.

But think about it from the other side: you live with your parents in a one-room hut that your father and uncles built, growing up with the same people you’ve known all your life. Occasionally there’s some excitement when people from other tribes visit, but for the most part life is quiet, filled with fishing and making baskets and sometimes eating the game your father brings home. And then one day, people like you’ve never seen before arrive, their bodies covered in all sorts of clothing, speaking in a tongue completely unlike the other tribes. They want to give you items—-necklaces, mirrors, some of that ridiculous clothing—-and walk around your village poking their heads into your house, and pointing at basic things. Maybe, at first, you’re as curious about them as they seem to be about you. But when later the next group arrives, and then the next, it feels more like an intrusion, more like you’re on display, although not by choice.

Of course, a lot can be said about this situation based on the behavior of the tourists. Sandall mentions English tourists to Italy in the 18th and 19th centuries, and I thought of EM Forster’s A Room with a View and Susan Sontag’s The Volcano Lover, both involving English people immersing themselves in the “different-ness” of Italian life, which of course implies that they were not immersed at all (as long as they thought of it as different-ness). But the Italians catered to this voyeuristic desire by building hotels and entertainment aligned with English tastes. This newer ethno-tourism reminds me more of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness with all the overtones of imperialism and the dangers of infiltrating a society that doesn’t really want to be infiltrated. Will these tribal natives begin catering to their new visitors on the riverside, offering fish and chips with the occasional grub worm?

Hm. I started this blog with the intention of following-up closely on last week’s road trip theme but have strayed off the mark I think. And I’m out of time to tie it back up, so I’ll leave it open for you. Is this sort of vacation morally repellent? Does it say something about our own fat and happy culture that we’re willing to pay to have these experiences? Or is it not because of comfortable ennui, but some other compulsion or curiosity? How much do we really learn about another culture in this manner? Should people be allowed to take guided tours without local consent, or just camera crews, or no one at all? And does this have anything to do with a developed society’s imperialist compulsions?