EcoLit ESem

“Black Women and the Wilderness” by Evelyn White reminded me of something that I briefly mentioned during a conversation in class at the beginning of the semester; that it is harder for women to go outside and feel free and safe in nature. The reason that this is, is the same reason for us as it was for Evelyn White and other black women at her time. Because of the imbalance of power between men and women or white and black, women and especially black women need to worry about their safety when they are in the wilderness and do not have the protection of a locked door, their friends, and their family. I feel really strongly about wanting to change this because all people deserve to feel like they can live comfortably in our natural environment and explore the earth. 

Quite elegant and thoughtprovoking, I think...

http://www.emptykingdom.com/main/featured/adonna-khare-and-her-pencil/

As Hurricane Sandy was making her grand debut on the East Coast, I was similarly making an entrance in the Eastern arch of Pembroke, joining the ranks of those who intended to ride out our loss of power with a night of festivities. We played music in the common room, donned our bathing suits, and celebrated the class cancellations Sandy had initiated. In those instants, we were living in the comic mode, and were merely "riding out the storm"--with the simple intention of getting by without electricity. When I woke up the next morning, my facebook newfeed had been bombarded with images of debri and destruction that Sandy had left in her wake. The headlines read, "The Storm of the Century", "13 People Dead", "Hurricane Sandy Wreaks Havoc Across Northeast"; suddenly, the previous night's festivities seemed childish and unsympathetic juxtaposed against the morose news that had taken over the internet. Now, I saw Sandy through the tragic mode, and attempted to put myself in the shoes of those who were not as fortunate as those of us at Bryn Mawr. Although the Sandy party offered a nice, enjoyable break from reality, it was imperative that I made the switch from the comic mode into the tragic mode to realize the situation for what it was. As we discussed in class, it's important to approach issues from both the comic and tragic modes--a tragicomic experience if you will. As Hurricane Sandy was making her way along the East Coast, what were you doing, and would classify your experience as being in the tragic or comic mode? 

Last night while I was waiting out the most intense part of Hurricane Sandy (thus far) with my fellow dormmates our discussions led us down many paths, but inevitably towards the hurricane. And even more specifically to the question of, "why does it seem like the most destructive hurricanes have female names?" The friendly discussion turned to anger and could be summed up in one of Bryn Mawr's favorite sayings, "Death to the Patriarchy!" So I had the intention today of starting my post as a rant that would take a similar route of the discussion I had last night, that is, talking about the seemingly sexist nature of the hurricane naming system. However, I was proved wrong. Upon further investigation and according to Time.com (http://nation.time.com/2012/08/24/the-most-destructive-u-s-hurricanes-of-all-time/) the most destructive US hurricanes seem to be fairly evenly named. The list cited hurricanes Ike, Floyd, Hugo, Charley, Ivan and Andrew as the most destructive hurricanes with masculine names and hurricanes Opal, Jeanne, Frances, Camille, Besty, Agnes, Rita, Katrina, and Wilma. According to this list, 6 out of the 15 most destructive hurricanes have masculine names, or 40%. Feminine named hurricanes make up the other 60%. While these numbers are skewed towards the feminine named hurricanes it still does not show the huge gap that I was anticipating. Add Sandy to that list and the ratio is more like 37.5% male and 62.5% female, which widens the gap, but by much.

A few weeks ago, for class on October ninth, we read three essays by Ursula Le Guin. This was, I know, a frighteningly long time ago. Nevertheless, I am still going to insist on blogging about one of those essays, because I really wish I had brought it up in class.

The essay was “Science Fiction and the Future” (1985). It was, on the whole, a very interesting discussion about how different societies view time. There was a short paragraph relating American views of time (or maybe Western views of time-- Le Guin is a bit vague on whose view it is. She just assumes her reader is a part of the society that views time this way.) to a critique of imperialistic science fiction and a need to, essentially, go with the flow, and not try to conquer the future. Her commentary on these Western views is insightful, and I agree with them. But the way that Le Guin comes to a lot of her insights about Western views of time is through a comparison with the ideas of time that the Quechua-speaking peoples of the Andes,” and the way that she makes that comparison is problematic.

In class on Tuesday, we talked about long-term awareness and short-term decision, with the case of having to use cars when we are being late, knowing that they pollute the environment. Yet many of our decisions depend largely on their specific situations and giving up good intentions is sometimes unavoidable. Carson was true to say "man can hardly even recognize the devils of his own creation." But even when we do recognize them, we have all become too dependent and used to the convenience of modernity to change. Charlene also confirmed it with a claim "the assumption of modernity, the faith in technological "progress" and rapacious industrialism, along with the miltarism necessary to support it, have left us very lost indeed."

However, does it mean that we can never change our habits? I suppose we all are taught that changes evolve from the smallest and simplest action every individual person can take. And gradually, it works all the way up to become a new habit. The essential factors are determination and patience. The greatest hindrance are excuses for procrastination. Personally, I think a good way to start a new habit is to consider it a must or a normal instead of an alternative. If you are late now, use your car this time just as an exception. Instead of using alternatives (such as bike/public transportation) only when you can, tell yourself to use cars when you have to, only as a last resort. What about you? What do think makes changes possible?

Life has been very complicated lately, very exhausting, very full. I was in two minds whether to change my sit-site, or not: I am not tired of the labyrinth, still want to return there; and at the same time I crave somewhere a bit wilder, more varied in its inhabitants. I was thinking about Morris Woods, or even maybe somewhere on the Haverford campus, nearer where I live. In the end I think the natural course of my life has decided for me. I was wanting a walk this afternoon, called one of our helpers to come and stay with my mom, and set out on my usual route around the Nature Walk (what we used to call it when I was a kid) which encircles the Haverford campus. Today it was a walk rather than a sit. Haverford has more wild space, is overall a bit wilder than Bryn Mawr. I love going through the woods - even though there are almost always lots of runners and walkers, some with dogs or babies, using the path, in that way less wild actually than Morris Woods at Bryn Mawr. Then I come out at the Duck Pond, larger and older than Bryn Mawr's duckpond: we used to skate on it in the wintertime, 50 or more years ago. There is often a heron fishing here, as well as the entertaining societies of ducks and Canada geese. My future sit spot will be at the far side of the duck pond, among silver maples and larch trees, a favorite place to stop and meditate, and dream myself into the depths of the pond, which seems like a gateway to Mother Earth herself.