V-Day

Today your neighborhood grocery stores are probably decorated with red and pink balloons and your social network news feeds are full of adorable kittens (just like on any other day, really, but these are special kittens). It is the dreaded/anticipated 14th of February - the V-Day. Whether you are thinking of spending this day (or at least part of it) curled up on a couch with your significant other/your cat/a pint of your favorite ice cream/a whole pie or whatever makes you happy, or maybe getting drunk with your friends in a celebratory/sad/everyday manner, or maybe working most of the day, because you are, say, in graduate school and have no life, you should remember that "V" in V-Day doesn't only stand for "Valentine", but also for "Victory" and "Vagina". Eve Ensler and friends suggest that today we acknowledge the global struggle of women against violence and join them in this struggle. So, think about it, whether you are fluffy and happy, or gloomy and bitter, or just regular everyday normal you today.

P.S. If you happen to be in Murfreesboro, TN, come out to the screening of "Until the Violence Stops" today at 7pm on MTSU campus (BAS S102).

P.S.2 If you don't happen to be in Murfreesboro, TN, you can turn on Democracy Now or CNN International tonight for some V-Day news. 

Of Make Up and Feminisms

This is not the kind of make up I had yesterday. But it's reasonably illustrative, right? Image found on Pinterest.

Yesterday was the day I wore make up. Everything was in place (or at least, as "in place" as I can get it to be, because guess what, I am not a make up guru): foundation, powder, eye and eyebrow shadows, mascara... Nothing crazy, but quite nice. It all felt lovely up until the point when I realized I had to wash it off. Really, it is just soooo much work (and/or I am very very very lazy, which I kind of am, but not that much, right?). The fact that washing it off is a pain in the butt is one of a complex set of reasons why I do not wear make up everyday. See, I am in graduate school: my sleeping schedule is bizzare and my free time is scarce. I actually have to be at work at 9 am sometimes, imagine that. I do not wear make up on those days, well, except maybe some concealer and chap stick. I simply refuse to do it. Just no. There is no way I am waking up earlier than necessary in order to plop something on my face. Now, I do realize that I shouldn't stand there in front of our students with dirty or super-messy hair. Or with bright red eyes (though sometimes it cannot be helped). Or wearing a sweater inside out (this totally happened, but I convinced myself that no one had noticed). These are all understandable "professional" things, at least in my understanding. Compulsory make up is not on my list of "professional" things anymore, and realizing that makes me feel proud and liberated and empowered in a way.

Mainstream culture in my home country is not particularly forgiving to women, who choose to deviate from the standards of femininity. If you think the U.S. is bad, well, it is, at least parts of it, but there are weirder places out there. Back where I am from, once a woman reaches certain age (I am talking middle class woman here), she is expected to become familiar with cosmetics, and by the time she is in high school, she is supposed to be using it daily. I was introduced to the joys of make up around the age of 11 or 12. One year I asked all my girlfriends to give me cosmetics for my Birthday, and ended up with a whole bunch of sparkly nail polishes in weird colors, like blue or green. My make up frenzy peaked when I was 15 or so. I remember lots of blue eye shadows and pink lip glosses. I also remember one of my friends, who was so cool she used foundation and powder and blushes at a time, commenting on my lack of make up and me being righteously offended by that. Then I had that boyfriend who didn't like make up, so neither did I. Then we broke up, and there it was again: I had to compensate for all the makeupless months. Then I realized I was a feminist and reasoned that feminists must not wear make up. Then I got my cherished positive body image damaged by all the judgmental people. And only then I realized, that feminism - at least my feminism - is about choice. And all was well.

I know there are women who do not use cosmetics at all, and they are doing just fine. I know there are women who wear make up, even to their 9 am jobs, and are happy, because they get a chance to express and reinvent themselves a little bit everyday. I know there are women with issues much more pressing then make up, like malnutrition, and rape, and violence, and poverty, and war, and access to basic health care. Yet my feminism - a white educated 20-something year old international academic feminism - is about choice and about daily choices we make regarding our bodies and spaces we occupy, our consumption and our production, our interpersonal relationships, our parenting, our lives. Whether or not to wear make up is one of these small choices, it is my personal feminist practice, and realizing this makes me feel one hell of empowered.

Unexpected Update

This is downtown Murfreesboro, TN. I have been living in Murfreesboro, TN for some four or five months now. I have been to downtown - all the cool kids are calling it The Square or something - only a few times. Half of those times I had simply failed to explain the directions to my house to whoever was driving. My old house was the whole opposite direction from The Square, and so is my new house, but the latter is a little closer. What I am trying to convey with this somewhat unstructured passage is that Murfreesboro, TN takes a whole lot of getting used to, a bunch of adjusting and enormous amounts of learning. I have been here for some four or five months and I am not quite sure I'm done with all the learning yet. Being submerged into a culture and environment so unfamiliar and so drastically different from what I have experienced before is, let's say, challenging. Having to adopt new identities - of a graduate student, a teaching assistant, a person balancing on the edge of broke, an adult - is breath stopping and overwhelming and everything, and I am not sure I have gone through this yet. I am scared and stressed, but hey, I am pretty sure I was happy today in a good for-no-reason happy way. I had been happy here before, but this is the first moment of unconditional happiness and cheer that I can remember and on which I can consciously reflect, and it sure as hell makes me feel better. It even makes me go like: "Hey, Murfreesboro, TN, we can be friends now, you know, for real."

Of Endings & Beginnings

This picture was meant to illustrate a rather long and nicely written story of Turkish culture and the joy of sitting quietly and listening to the prayers coming from several neighboring mosques at once. However, before I managed to write that up, I got hit by the U.S., Tennessee, the land of no sidewalks, where I own a purple bike and a shit load of hopes, fears and aspirations. So, this picture will just illustrate the idea of culture - foreign and exotic and all that.

Istanbul: Old City Highlight

Istanbul: Cats as an Artform

Istanbul is full of cats of all kinds: they ask you for food (politely), they may confuse your feet with new toys (totally happened to me) or - if they recognize you as a decent person - they may even curl up on your lap.  And they are everywhere. Even this little street art exhibition, while being very abstract, is possibly cat-themed. There is a cat on the sign, there is a mural that may be picturing a person feeding or petting a bunch of cats, and of course there are real live cats chasing each other and lounging around on the roof. 

Istanbul: Foods & Drinks

The picture above is of Turkish coffee, which became a significant part of my Istanbul ration. This pure caffeinated goodness is served in cute little cups pretty much anywhere (or at least pretty much anywhere in touristic areas), and also you can read some fortune when you're done drinking! An average cup costs some 5 Turkish lira, with 2 lira being a bit more than a dollar and a bit less than a euro. Lovely girls on the market on the Hippodrome are using little funny machines to make their coffee and are selling it for 2.50 lira (fortune-telling brochure in English and French included), so you can enjoy it while all the busy touristic business is happening around you. The cup pictured above was rather expensive - 8 lira - but for the price we got a chance to lounge around in bean bags and observe a promoter guy invent little performances to attract some more customers. So, it was like a drink and a show at the same time (and a chance to make some cultural observations, of course) - an overall pleasant experience.

Besides coffee and "Efes" beer, which is not bad at all, my diet contained enormous amounts of falafel, some baklava and occasional corn on the cob, and all these foods are worth mentioning, because...yum! First, falafel. I'm a big fan of falafel, and there is no proper falafel in Dnipropetrovsk, so falafel and I had been separated for more than a year. I did try making it myself, but it did not turn out to be a proper falafel (and I completely ruined tahini, huh). So, 5 lira falafel wrap accompanied by a 2.50 lira freshly squeezed orange juice and consumed right under the monumental Column of Constantine became my ultimate Istanbul omnomnom...and I don't know what else to say about it, for the words seem useless when it comes to falafel feelings.

Then there is baklava. Delightful sugar coma and reasonably priced one too. You can get four pieces of baklava in a sweets shop for 5 or 6 lira, and it is enough to be a self-sufficient little meal for one or a dessert for two. Or you can take a half a kilo box for a bigger company for 25 lira and stuff yourselves to the point of no return. Afterwards you may feel guilty for all the calories consumed, but Istanbul gives you a chance to burn them right away: defy public transportation, get some comfortable shoes, go on long walks and you should be just fine.

Finally, there is corn on the cob being sold just on the street for 1.50 lira, boiled or baked, generously sprinkled with salt. To be fair, it's nothing exceptional and not even too good, but it's good enough for me, because it is cheap and it awakens particularly sweet memories in me. Back when I was a young child (the grass was greener and the trees were taller) my cousins and I would go to grandparents' vegetable garden to gather some corn, and we would carry it home in canvas and plastic bags that seemed so enormously heavy. Then grandma would boil the corn and serve it generously sprinkled with salt, and we wouldn't care that the boiling would take way too long and heat up the whole apartment... While Istanbul itself is nothing like the outskirts of Dnipropetrovsk where a part of my childhood had been spent, the humid heat is kind of similar, and there is corn, and I get all happy and nostalgic.

Of course, there are plenty other fun foods to indulge yourself in Istanbul: all sort of pasties, giant watermelon slices, chestnuts, rahat lukum, freshly baked pita bread, some unidentified sweets... And it is all relatively cheap and full of local flavor: perfect for frugal travelers and overall exciting.

Istanbul: Sultan's Library

Sultan's library at the Topkapi Palace is officially my favorite piece of tourist attraction. It's all dark and cool and cozy, with fun windows and tiles on the walls. There isn't a single book in it, but, probably the sultan could afford having special people to carry his books around. 

Istanbul Intro

Last week I went on a conference-turned-into-vacation to Istanbul, and now I am back. I mean, back as a whole, because my body had been home since Tuesday, but my mind has fully joined it only today. You know how the conferences go: you stay up till 3 a.m. and you get to wake up at 8 to go through another dayful of work and socializing. And you don't feel tired at all, because everything is oh so fun, but then you come home and start falling asleep at some random times throughout the day (it's not just me who does, right?). So, today I not only managed to stay awake, but even left the house, hence, I must be fully recovered and ready to spill Istanbul-related and Istanbul-inspired thoughts, observations, self-reflective blah-blahs and so on. And I have a lot to say, so stay tuned.