Attending comedy shows in today’s political climate always seems like a bit of a risk to me, but after seeing Hasan Minhaj recently at The Englert, I felt more open to the experience. Mission Creek Festival brought Daily Show Correspondent Michelle Wolf, comedian Janelle James, and two local comics Spencer Loucks and Arish Singh to The Mill on Saturday night.

The night began quite awkwardly. Loucks (the only white guy performer of the night) got on stage and dramatically declared “Guys… Stop thinking about sex… Hostess sells ice cream!” His first joke was met with mostly silence and confusion. After his weird bit about short orgasms and eating Twinkie ice cream, he became more comfortable on stage and got more laughs with some self-deprecation about embarrassing acting auditions and awkward dates.

Loucks introduced the first guest comedian to Iowa City, Janelle James, whose performance consistently drew laughs. James, who has been opening for Chris Rock’s comedy tour, shared uncomfortable but hilarious thoughts about the transition from “pee-pee” to “dick” in her thirteen-year-old son, and racist casting calls for angry black women.

One of my favorite jokes regarded the popular reality TV show The Bachelor, and how the sought-after single man of the title is just some “basic white dude named Ben.” She also pointed out that in the “900 seasons” of the show, the token black woman and token Latina woman get cut in the second week of the show, even though “minorities put up their best” to audition.

James joked about her confrontations with white people having lived in the Midwest, confessing that she likes white men: “Not as human beings or as people, I mean in a sexual fetishizing way.” She transitioned from this joke to discussing how disappointed she felt when she realized that a bonfire is just a fire, despite the “hype” by white people.

After a short intermission following James’ set, Arish Singh, a comic who splits his time between Chicago and Iowa City took the stage. Having seen Singh perform before, I knew about his provocative jokes that many white neo-liberals of Iowa City respond to with tight lips and discomfort. When half the room did not laugh at James’ joke about the whiteness of The Bachelor, I was curious how they’d respond to Singh’s request that Republicans in the room chant “race war, hell yeah” followed by a minority group they hate.

Unsurprisingly, those audience members did not appreciate his frankness, but the majority of the room did. They laughed at his plea to eradicate the evils of ventriloquism by calling their senators and exposing Jeff Dunham as a cheap racist hack. Then, he introduced the headliner, Michelle Wolf.

Like Singh, she wasted no time before getting political. Wolf brought up how politicians are “trying to figure out where trans people should go to the bathroom,” suggesting an ingenious idea: “bathrooms.” She explained that the only thing women worry about in bathrooms is making sure no one knows they’re the ones pooping: “I tried to cough a lot and only go when the hand dryer was on.” Wolf suggests that pooping loudly in a bathroom is a great way to avoid predators, though; she said that farting on the whole walk home could ensure one’s protection.

Wolf told one of my favorite jokes of the night when she described the “fatal flaw” of women: wanting to help other people. She tells a story of sitting in a meeting and seeing a man who needed a napkin, and becoming so distracted with this “poor baby” and wanting to help this man so badly. “I know where the napkins are, I have legs, I could go get him the napkins and I could save him!” I’ve had this thought so many times before, and while I don’t know about generalizing all women, I could definitely identify with this joke.

While Wolf had some great high notes to her set, she also had numerous moments during her performance when I felt confused about her jokes. Several times in her set, she compared the gender identity and sexuality of gay men to straight women in problematic ways. Wolf included a joke in which a trans women wore a shirt better than her, and told the woman to “stay in her lane.” When Wolf began a joke with “there are some jobs immigrants are just better at,” I really felt disconnected to her comedy.

While she revealed her problematic feminism, I still appreciated some jokes about so-called feminist movements like the Free The Nipple campaign, which she suspected originated from a creepy man wanting to see nipples on the internet. She suggested that Instagram and other social media platforms simply ban male nipples instead.

While Janelle James was my favorite performer of the night, the other comics all had great moments in their set. Thanks to Mission Creek for bringing them to Iowa City!

The post Mission Creek: Michelle Wolf @ The Mill 4/8/17 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

I had been looking forward to this show for weeks.

Not surprisingly, I was surrounded by mostly white folks who think they’re so #woke because they watch The Daily Show. Despite the regular Iowa City majority, I saw quite a few Desis in the audience, which was encouraging and comforting. Their presence became clearer through the night.

The show opened with Arish Singh, a comedian raised in Waterloo but now splits his time between Chicago and Iowa. He began the show by discussing the difficulties of being an Indian Sikh kid growing up in Waterloo, from watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (which I refuse to link to because it’s so racist) with his white friends, to attacking questions about his turban.

One of my favorite jokes in his set consisted of dividing the audience along bipartisan lines. He asked Republicans “when I say race war,” republicans say the minority group which they’d like to harm, and asking Ds “when I say class war,” deny any wrongdoing. At this point, I was very curious about the reactions of all the old white ladies in the audience.

Singh ended his set with a powerful call to action against corrupt state and local politicians, citing examples of the University of Iowa revoking scholarships from over 2,000 students, to Iowa Senators Grassley and Ernst and their deafening silence among hate crimes in this country, to the state government taking away collective bargaining. “We can’t let Iowa become Nebraska,” he declared as he ended his set to laughter and applause. He gave Hasan Minhaj a touching introduction calling “Homecoming King” one of the best works of comedy he has ever seen, and left the stage.

Minhaj began his set discussing childhood, and with the help of his slideshow projected on the screen behind him, explained the conditional nature of “brown love,” the relatable phenomenon of brown/immigrant parents hitting their kids (which Minhaj claims led to the creation of “Indian sociopath” Bobby Jindal), and more.

Minhaj came to Davis, California with his father while his mother stayed in India until he was eight completing medical school. When his mother finally came to live with him in America, she shows up with his little sister who Hasan didn’t know existed until she walked through the door. He dubbed this situation “Maury for immigrants.”

He used this incident to explain two facets of immigrant life: immigrant parents love secrets, and his negative attitude towards immigrants (mainly his sister). Minhaj jokes that at that point, he “believed in the wall,” referring to Donald Trump’s plans to construct a wall along our southern border to keep immigrants out. 

Minhaj frequently incorporated Hindi words and phrases throughout his show, most notably “log kya kahenge” which translates to “what will people think?” For a Desi Muslim man to get on stage in Iowa City and speak to a largely white crowd using Hindi and Urdu reveals courage and audacity, to me.

He translated most of the words for the non-Hindi speaking population, but his references to movies like Jodha Akbar, Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gham, and more without an explanation was a bold move. The absence of an explanatory comma with these references made me feel welcomed, like I was chatting with Hasan in my living room.

In addition to his hilarious jokes, Minhaj used lighting techniques and sharp emotional contrasts to tell traumatic, unfortunate experiences from his life too. He saved one of his funniest jokes to precede a dark moment in the show, the moment his father suffered a heart attack.

He described a tragic moment immediately after the terrorist attack on 9/11 where some white kids who attended his school vandalized his family’s property, stole his backpack and called him racial slurs including sand n*****, a name I was called often in my childhood.

He tries to keep this moment of the show palatable to white folks by explaining that he knows “white people have problems,” because he has seen “Girls” on HBO and Lena Dunham’s character hasn’t found love yet. However, he stands firm in his explanation of white privilege here.

He explains that immigrants feel they have to pay this “American Dream tax,” which requires them to accept moments like these. Immigrants constantly adapt to America, bend for America, and have to release “press releases to prove their patriotism” after moments like 9/11, and other terrorist attacks that many Americans wrongly connect back to the Muslim community as a whole. This part of his show resonated with me, and my experiences as an immigrant in this country grappling with my parents’ acceptance and passivity to bigotry and my refusal to compromise with racism.

From an ongoing story about a spurned (probably racist) prom date to a dramatic triumph in marrying a Hindu woman, Minhaj created a piece of art that connected with Iowa City audiences of all backgrounds.

His references to Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and Mario Kart comforted the general public, but his inclusion of Hindi/Urdu phrases, Desi cultural explanations and immigrant experiences reached out more specifically to people of color and Desi folks in the audience.

Without tokenizing or making fun of brown folks or other people of color, he honestly showcased his own experiences in this country.

The post Show Review: Hasan Minhaj @ The Englert Theater 2/25/17 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Activism and decolonization require patience, perseverance, and psychological work. These tasks result in serious emotional exhaustion that we often ignore. With some holidays coming up, hopefully we’ll have some time to practice self-care, because we cannot be liberated without healing.

Self-care is Not Selfish

I had difficulty learning that taking time to care for myself was not rooted in selfishness or conceit. We cannot work towards liberation if we cannot function. Experiencing racism or other systemic forms of oppression is often traumatic, and taking time to process and heal those wounds through self-care methods allows time to recuperate from that trauma (or at least try).

Back to Basics

Sometimes, the best form of self-care manifests as prioritizing the bare necessities. Getting eight hours of sleep, eating three meals a day, and staying hydrated can boost your mood and mental health, too. Especially as college students, we frequently neglect our basic needs like healthy food and sufficient sleep, so putting some energy towards those priorities can help keep you grounded. If you’re looking to buy an adjustable hospital bed, click here.

Move Your Body

When I’m feeling particularly hopeless, everything seems pointless and my body feels as though I have no real purpose, or at least I won’t be able to accomplish anything. During these moments, I find it helpful to move around in some way. Once I finally muster the strength to get out of bed or off the couch, I attend a Zumba class at the gym, or take a walk to campus and back. This movement helps me reconnect with my body, and understand my capabilities. Many studies note the mental benefits of physical activity, so find an activity that works for you.

Put it in Your Planner

It’s easy to have the intentions of caring for yourself, but sometimes the days escape us and we haven’t taken a moment for reflection. To make sure you remember, schedule specific times for coloring, cooking, meditating, journal-ing, or any other relaxing activity to ensure that you find time for yourself.

Disconnect

Although the shitstorm of social media (and sometimes the entire internet) can test our everlasting patience, not every instance of bigotry requires an active response from you. With so much hate in the world, we cannot afford to react to each one deeply, or take the time to construct a savage social media take-down response. Sometimes, we have to let that shit go for our own sake, for our own mental health.

Healthy Escapism

Lately, I’ve enjoyed re-reading the Harry Potter books, and once I finish those I plan on moving on to the Game of Thrones series. While these texts are not radical in nature and aren’t written by radical folks, they provide some healthy escapism from the frustrating and exhausting real world. Not everyone likes fantasy literature, but fictional pieces of work allow me to take a break from other psychic and decolonization work. Plus, I always find ways to make Harry Potter a little better (i.e. arguing that Hermione is DEFINITELY black and should have been cast as a black woman (source).

Socialization

We all take up different spaces on the extroverted-introverted spectrum, but if you feel energized by engaging with other people, reach out to someone for coffee or just a conversation. If you have a pet and have no shame like me, talk to them. Studies show that both dogs and cats listen when you speak to them and say their names, so if you’re not interested in interacting with people, try animals! The sureflap microchip cat flap is a great addition to any home with cats, enabling your pet to come and go as they please!

Self-care, while sometimes difficult to maintain in our schedules, remains vital to our decolonization process. Many activists including Angela Davis and Audre Lorde have discussed the importance of such activities. Time to reflect, recuperate and be compassionate towards oneself will allow us to direct productive energy towards activism.

The post Decolonize Your Mind: Self-Care Advice for Activists appeared first on KRUI Radio.

The leader of the workshop, Tabitha Wiggins played Chance the Rapper and danced around the stage with a contagious smile, inviting attendees to join her up there. She looked at some of the workshop participants and asked “you don’t wanna dance?” as “No Problem” played in the background.

Although the workshop had an intense name, she seemed so carefree and happy. Maybe this surprised me because I felt nervous; I’ve had tons of negative experiences at workshops and settings like these where white liberals hijack the conversation for self-congratulatory purposes. She seemed like she was pretty confident, though. #goals.

She began the workshop by asking us to call her “Tab” since her mother calls her Tabitha when she’s in trouble. She clarified her pronouns and explained her position at the University of Iowa. At this school, she serves as the assistant director of equity and inclusion, and the project director of Being Black at Iowa.

Tab introduced the content of the workshop by explaining the importance of working together to dismantle oppressive institutions and narratives because “I can’t be free until you are free. Our liberation is interconnected.” Then she explained the main subject we’d discuss today: the ally-industrial complex.

After she discussed the commodification of social justice movements, Tab explained the important difference between an ally and an accomplice. An ally has become someone who only superficially oppose certain issues of injustice, and seek to become the heroes of the oppressed.

For allies, struggle becomes a commodity on which they can profit somehow where “allyship is a currency.” Tab brilliantly articulated, “an ally is disembodied from any real mutual understanding of support.” However, an accomplice works together with people at their sides without seeking additional “cookies.” Accomplices become complicit in the struggle without dehumanizing the people who suffer.

Before she proceeded, Tab explained that she found most of the content and framing for her workshop based on an article by an indigenous woman who did not disclose her name.

The rest of the workshop reminded me of a really substantive, illuminating and radical Buzzfeed article (which is arguably the opposite of everything Buzzfeed). Tab began to categorize the kinds of allies.

Salvation/Missionary Ally

This kind of ally has romanticized notions of oppression, and treats oppressed people like victims and tokens instead of humans. They engage in things like exoticization, whitesplaining/mansplaining/etc., and other microaggressive (sometimes macroaggressive) commentary.

Exploitive/Co-opting Ally

These kinds of people seek to impose their own agenda through acts of condescension. They attend rallies and attempt to change the focus from the group’s work to their own personal projects and their own sadness about systemic racism or something. This ally truly engages in another form of liberalism.

Self-proclaiming/Confessional Ally

This ally is mostly concerned about getting “ally points” or as Tab calls them, cookies. They have no intention of actually abolishing entitlement. Tab says that “anti-oppression values are like drapes in their home.”

Parachuter Ally

These people/organizations rush to the front lines of sexy movements to stay trendy and relevant. They essentially serve as missionaries with more funding, and often overlap with the savior ally. They engage in structural patronization.

Academic and Intellectual Ally

These kinds of people remind me a lot of myself a while ago (and sometimes still today). These allies use a lot of academic jargon and big words to talk about issues. They use knowledge and skills to patronize people who may not use complex language to talk about oppression. Academics are “fixated on unlearning oppression” instead of dismantling it. An academic ACCOMPLICE would use their resources and betray the institutions they previously belonged to.

Gatekeeper Ally

Gatekeepers seek to have power over others instead of with other people. They want powerful positions within organizations and make the work about their own resume-building and ego. They are known for withholding information and they have a tendency to create a dependency on themselves, such that a movement or organization lives and dies with them.

Navigator/Floater Ally

These allies familiarize themselves with the jargon and language surrounding anti-oppression, but have no meaningful dialogue about lived experiences and people who suffer from these systems. Other peoples’ oppression becomes their own personal projects. They fail to take responsibility for their own actions and are quick to be authoritarian figures about other peoples’ privilege. They dismiss confrontation and fail to see flaws in their own work.

After explaining a type of ally, Tab gave the participants some time to speak to their neighbors about experiences with these kinds of people and ways to intervene. She took a few minutes to ask people to share with the large group. The format of the workshop allowed the audience time to think for themselves and also connect with people around them.

Out of about 30 participants, only about a third were non-white passing people of color. I always feel a little disappointed when I find myself surrounded by mostly white people in a setting like that, but I have to remind myself of two things: I live in Iowa City, and white people will probably benefit from work like that.

Tab ended the workshop with ways to become an anti-colonial accomplice, but also reminded us that “no matter how free you are, we occupy indigenous land and we are still colonizers.”

Finally, Tab asked us to repeat after her as she chanted the famous Assata Shakur quote:

For more information on the ally-industrial complex, read the article from which Tab found her inspiration.

The post Witching Hour: You Ain’t Gettin’ No Cookies for Doing What Is Racially Just @ The Englert 11/5/16 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Emily’s D+Evolution was about to rock my world and I was totally unprepared.

I showed up super early, anticipating a line going down the block, and I was the first person to the Englert. NO SHAME.

After spending some time in the lobby hearing the ushers talk about the sound check, I thought I’d explode. They used words and phrases like “theatrical” and “choreographed” and praised the “bright lights” and “carefully crafted stage materials.” How could I contain myself?

Finally, the doors opened. Walking in, I saw a brightly lit stage with tall red curtains on the sides and white ones in the middle. The colors looked elegant and mature, but based on the gossip in the lobby, I knew I could expect wild and psychedelic colors  later in the show.

Emily and her fellow musicians entered the stage promptly at 8:00 PM (thank god), and they began with “Farewell Dolly.” I was surprised that she chose to do her set in a different order than her album, because Emily’s D+Evolution makes a lot of sense as a work of art every time I listen to the whole thing on Spotify. However, last night I learned that changing the order of the songs creates different meanings.

After she finished “Farewell Dolly,” Emily spoke conversationally to the audience about the “depressing” last line of the song: “nature’s dead up in my head.”

For five minutes, she spoke about the kind of art she wanted to create for us that night, taking long pauses as if making up her mind on stage. I ended up whispering to the person next to me, “is this a part of the show?” because her acting was so convincing.

I should have known, though, that she would have planned that moment just as her group choreographed and orchestrated such complex lighting and stage props. She decided on not doing the play that was listed in the program (which makes me wonder if they created the program just so they could rip them up?) and tore off her black veiled dress and wig to reveal all-white clothing and braids underneath, and of course, she put on Emily’s glasses and crown as she began “Elevate or Operate.”

As the lighting changed from red to green and her backup singers acted as puppeteers behind her, controlling her movements, the stage looked like a scene from a child’s dream. Paper flowers coated the bottom of the curtains and changed colors with the lighting and Emily moved around the stage according to the puppeteers’ orders.

Her improvisations kept reminding me that this show was live; her voice sounded so smooth, so flawless that I could have been listening to an edited, polished album.

They played “Ebony and Ivy,” one of my favorite songs off this album and the red, white and blue lighting in the background had to be intentional. In this song, Emily and her backup singers discuss how American academia is still entrenched in antiblackness and profited off of the exploitation of black bodies and minds. The song title probably references a recently published book by Craig Steven Wilder about how slavery benefited higher institutions of learning.

Afterwards, they performed “Noble Nobles.” At the end of this song, and in a somber moment, she opened a book on stage and mournfully pulled out a pair of metal shackles.

She followed this song with “Judas,” changing the lights on stage to bright pink and purple. During the whole performance, Emily attempted to convince her backup dancers to move past the systematic way, the professional and structured concert, the prim and proper behavior expected of them. They insisted she follow a plan but she pushed back, wanting to dance and improvise to their disapproval.

Emily finally convinces them to let loose in “One,” and during this transformation, her backup singers unzipped parts of their clothing to reveal bright yellow and orange cloth underneath. The musicians moved into an extended improvised section and transitioned into “Funk the Fear,” as the backup dancers tore up their programs and created their own crowns, moving into the audience and encouraging us to get up and dance too. Repeating the anthem, “funk the fear, live your life,” the audience moved with the musicians and the trippy rainbow lighting.

Finally, Emily had convinced us to let go and feel free. She fittingly begins her next song with, “now what are we gonna do/with our two fiery souls?” At this moment, I realized she created a different story by rearranging the songs in her album and I fell in love again with D+Evolution.

During “Rest in Pleasure,” she teaches each of her backup singers a sensual hip movement and eventually they all moved in sync and looked so free and light. This was my favorite performance of the evening.

Their last song of the evening, “Unconditional Love,” made so much sense.”We could change the whole story of love, same old play I’m getting tired of. No more acting these predictable roles, just us living, unconditional love.” She seemed to plead her musicians and the audience with these lyrics, and we were totally with her.

Before the song finished, Emily, her guitarist and percussionist performed over five minutes of intense improvised music and soloing while the backup singers set up a strange metal contraption in the middle of the stage. When they finally finished, they held up a quilt which read “LOVE” with a backwards E and took a bow bringing their performance to an end. However, when the lights turned off, the audience realized the purpose of the quilt and the metal contraption behind them.

The audience cheered for a last song, and finally Emily walked out again saying “well, there aren’t anymore songs in the story, but I can sing something else” and graced us with an a cappella rendition of a song from an earlier album.

The night was magical, pure, and transformative. I’m so thankful I saw their performance, and I have a more profound understanding of the depth of her latest album.

To keep up on all things Esperanza and Emily, check out her sleek website and follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

The post Concert Review: Emily’s D+Evolution @ The Englert 10/25/16 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

For this month’s article, I thought I’d include an email I recently sent to a professor in regards to her problematic class culture. This is an example of a message I wish I had the energy to send to each person who has fucked with me: professors, students, community members and all.

Here’s the email in quotes, and added GIFs for your viewing pleasure.

“Dear Professor XXXXX

As you know, I dropped your class. I think it’s important you know the reasons why I left the class, because these experiences fall into a similar pattern of instances I’ve experienced in the English department, and the university as a whole (not to mention my daily life).

Your last email to me posed a question: “How can we make discussions more engaging?”

Although I am not in your class anymore, the reasons why I dropped answer this question. I don’t think it’s necessarily my responsibility to figure out ways to make class more engaging as a student, and moreover as a student of color at a predominantly white institution, but here are some suggestions nonetheless.

1) Take the time to learn the correct pronunciations of your students’ names

You asked me at least three times within the first two weeks of class how to pronounce my name my name, and each time I told you how, and you proceeded to pronounce my name in a completely different Americanized way.

The unmistakable difference between the pronunciations confused me. I didn’t understand how you seemingly did not notice the difference, even though I frequently said “that’s not what I said,” after you incorrectly said my name. I never introduced myself to you as “tan-vee” and didn’t understand why you couldn’t hear a difference in the way I said my name and you said my name.

Perhaps I would have felt more engaged in discussion if you had given me a base level of respect by saying my name correctly, or at least asking me to repeat my name so you could learn to say it properly.

2) Acknowledge difference

When I included in my discussion post that I felt tired of unrecognizable bible references, and you began class the next day with a passive aggressive “look it up,” I interpreted that response as a signal that you think my unfamiliarity with the bible is a coincidence, like not knowing French, or not knowing ballet: as if my brownness has nothing to do with my frustration and unfamiliarity with a Judeo-Christian dominated canon that your class perpetuated.

Telling a nonwhite non-Christian student to just “look up” bible references completely ignores that obviously this country prioritizes narratives by and about Judeo-Christian followers in such a diverse place.

Also, calling your class “American Literature” and only including 2 authors of color is a serious misrepresentation of America, and the art its citizens create. Multiple times, you communicated the difficulty of travel arrangements, and while I understand that, the reality is that we ended up with a syllabus dominated by the same kinds of people and that values stories written and focused on white Americans.

You continually used the phrase “left out” to describe my feelings about Christianity references and the content of my post, which trivializes and minimalizes the systemic erasure of stories by and about people of color and non-Christian folks. I didn’t just feel “left out.” I felt alienated by your syllabus and by your comments. I felt the toll of the institutional racism in your class.

3) Stop silencing race critical commentary

I sent you a discussion post that centered on race representation (or lack thereof) and you asked me why I didn’t discuss something I “really want to examine,” and something that would enable a “shrewd” essay in the future. You implied that I am not passionate about the topics I discussed and that questioning a class syllabus’s whiteness is not worth probing.

Your tone in the email indicated to me that you didn’t value the content of my post, you don’t seem to value critiques of your syllabus choices based on race. This clear devaluing of this topic did not motivate me to participate in class; after all, you pretty much indicated that what I wanted to discuss was a waste of everyone’s time.

4) Don’t tokenize your students: in this case, your students of color.

During a discussion about the second book when you defended your syllabus choices and explained the difficulty of travel arrangements, you articulated a situation in which you communicated with a black writer, but she wasn’t able to find a ride from the airport. You called me out and said, “Tanvi!” once again, mispronouncing my name, “I should have volunteered you to pick up [black writer’s name] at the airport!”

I don’t know if this was a defensive comment on your part, or you simply didn’t understand what you were saying, but this was hurtful. This instance represents one of the clearest instances of targeted racism I’ve ever experienced in a classroom. It is inappropriate to single out one of your only students of color who has raised questions about your syllabus and volunteer her for a task for which she’s not responsible.

I’m not sure how else to explain the extremely problematic nature of this instance. You may have been trying to “include” me in a class discussion, but I interpreted and experienced you tokenizing me for my brownness and my radical perspective.

I could not bear thinking about spending another day in that class. You humiliated me in front of my peers. Your comments contributed to the trauma of racism that I experience every day. While you seemed unaware, the emotional toll what you said in class overwhelmed me and forced me to leave class in order to recuperate, and eventually, leave your class permanently.

I’m sharing this with you so that you understand the problem that plagues the department, the school, and this whole country. This class is NOT the first class in which I’ve somehow felt tokenized and erased at the same time, not even the only one this semester.

While I don’t want to speak for others, I can say that instances like these affect students and their ability to excel, or even feel motivated in their academic environments. I’m tired of paying thousands of dollars every year to feel victimized and alienated in classrooms.”

The idea of “decolonizing our minds” is included in the writings of the author, feminist and social activist bell hooks. She encourages us to critically examine every thought and action, free ourselves from the coercive ideologies, and overcome the impacts of structural oppression. This column will analyze spaces and times where and when we can pause and make strides in this arduous process, and also highlight figures who are helping us to decolonize ourselves.

The post Decolonize Your Mind: Exhibit “Screw You” appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Witching Hour, according to the festival’s website, highlight’s the “unknown, creative process, and new work.” During its second year, Witching Hour features a diverse lineup ranging from multi-media workshops to comedy shows to cinematic adventures. Here are the events KRUI can’t wait to see!

Music 

Psalm One

After opening for Saul Williams at Mission Creek 2016, Psalm One returns to Iowa City to perform some new art! She’ll perform at 10:30 PM at The Mill on November 4.

White Lung

At midnight on Friday night, White Lung will perform tracks from their fourth album at Gabe’s. Hailing from Canada, this punk rock band will impolitely rock Iowa City on November 4th at midnight!

Wu Fei

Combining cultural and musical influences from Beijing and Nashville, Wu Fei will deftly charm audiences with her new and original compositions on the guzheng. See her perform at 9:30 PM at the Englert on Friday, November 4th!

Jlin

Jlin is known for pushing the boundaries of the footwork genre. Her track “Erotic Heat” from the Planet Mu compilation Bangs and Works Vol. 2 announced her presence to the world. Having attracted critical acclaim for her 2015 LP Dark Energy, Jlin brings her production magic to Gabe’s at 11:59 PM November 4th.

 Rhys Chatham

Guitarist, trumpeter, and composer, Rhys Chatham can rightfully be compared with Philip Glass or Steve Reich, though he likes guitars a lot more (he has composed pieces for up to 200 guitars and more). While he has the minimal edge of Glass and Reich, he also occasionally engages in prog and fusion. We’ll be seeing him in a rare solo performance at 10:00 PM at Gabe’s November 4th.

Jack Lion

Jack Lion is an Iowa City band that blends jazz and electronica seamlessly. At times heady, at other times spaced out, but always in the groove, if you haven’t had a chance to see them live yet, you’ve been missing out. They will be playing at 11:00 PM at Gabe’s November 4th.

Writing/Spoken Word

Pussy Riot in conversation with Jessica Hopper

Radical Russian punk band member Maria Alekhina will join Jessica Hopper at the Englert at 7:00 PM on Friday to discuss music and activism!

Jason Sole: From Prison to PhD: A Journey of Pain, Promise, and Protest

Jason Sole will captivate audiences as he details his life journey from a three-time convicted felon to his personal redemption as a mentor, consultant, and assistant professor of Public Safety and Criminal Justice at Metropolitan State University. This event takes place at 5:00 PM at the Iowa City Public Library.

Jason England: National Anthem: The Sociopathic Nature of Racial Discourse in American Sports

Jason England, graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and full-time faculty member of the University of Iowa Rhetoric Department, will delve into the intersection of racial politics and sports in the United States with his presentation at 7:00 PM at the Englert Theater November 5th.

Writers of Color

Following last year’s highly successful event, visiting writer Rachel McKibbens joins undergraduate and graduate writers of color for a reading of new work at 4:00 PM at The Mill November 5th.

Comedy

Supertalent Show and Friends

Those familiar with Iowa City’s comedy scene will remember many of these faces. Iowa City’s own Arish Singh, now based in Chicago, is a major reason the Iowa City comedy scene is what it is today. A stand-up comedian (in every sense of the word “stand-up”), Singh has been putting together wonderful, politically aware comedy shows for Iowa City and Chicago for the last couple of years. He brings a group of hilarious improv actors and comedians to the Mill November 4th at 9:00 PM. (All images courtesy of WitchingHourFestival.com)

Jen Kirkman

Best-selling author and stand-up comedian Jen Kirkman, whose 2015 Netflix comedy special I’m Gonna Die Alone (And I Feel Fine) earned high praise from The Atlantic, New York Magazine, and The Atlantic, shares her wit and insights with Iowa City at the Englert Theater November 5th at 9:00pm. She will also appear In Conversation at the Mill November 5th at 10:30 PM.

Film

Romeo Is Bleeding

Set in Richmond, CA, Romeo Is Bleeding follows Donté, who, rather than get swept up in a violent turf war between rival neighborhoods, attempts to open up a dialogue about violence in the city by putting together a modern adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet. Will he succeed? Find out at FilmScene November 5th at 1:00 PM.

Tony Conrad: Completely in the Present

A film about, of, for, and by artists, Completely in the Present follows the legendary career of Tony Conrad. Conrad’s cross-disciplinary work has heavily influenced modern independent music, public access television, visual art, and film. Using intimate footage of Tony and collaborators over the last twenty-two years, Completely in the Present gives us access to one of the strangest artistic minds of our time. You can catch it at FilmScene November 5th at 3:00 PM.

Mixed Media, Workshops, and Panels

Hip-Hop Kitchen

Get into a discussion and performance on hip-hop history, cooking, and the art of freestyling. Featuring Sepehr Sadrzadeh, the Chef of Pullman Diner; The Cubist, legendary producer who has worked with Kendrick Lamar; Icon Amerie, rapper and hip-hop culture historian; moderated by André Wright, producer, artist, designer. This discussion and performance will take place at The Mill November 5th at 12:00 PM. (All images courtesy of WitchingHourFestival.com)

Broad Perspectives

This will be a panel discussion and workshop featuring Katie Roche, Rachel McKibbens, alea adigweme, and Teresa Magnum. The discussion will be about creating and maintaining female-only spaces, why it is necessary and important, and how they operate differently than other creative spaces. This panel and workshop will take place at Prairie Lights Bookstore on November 5th at 6:00 PM.

Beforeplay: An Exploration of the Art of Playtesting

Game developers of board and video games to make money come together in a panel discussing playtesting the relationship of dialogue it creates between gamer and make-maker. This event takes place at 2:00 PM at The Mill November 5th. (All images courtesy of WitchingHourFestival.com)

Will Duncan: The Art of Doing Nothing: A Deep Exploration of What Meditation Is and What It Is Not

Will Duncan will be easing us into a deep understanding of the relevance, usefulness, and spiritual potential of the ancient practice of meditation. Duncan completed a Three-Year Silent Meditation Retreat in 2014, and has returned to the world to share his insights with us. The Art of Doing Nothing will occur at the Englert November 5th at 11:00 AM, and he will be giving a lecture about his silent meditation retreat experience at the Iowa City Public Library November 5th at 3:00 PM.

Conclusion

Well, there you have it, folks. KRUI’s Guide to Witching Hour would like to remind you of a couple of things, however: (1) More than half of the acts are free, so if you’re not sure you can afford to go, think again, dear friend. (2) We have only provided highlights. Please see the festival website for the full line-up. (3) The festival spirit is one of exploration and coming out of our comfort zones, so be sure to explore, keep an open mind, and maybe go to something you normally wouldn’t go to!

The post KRUI’s Witching Hour Guide appeared first on KRUI Radio.

This month’s featured artist wrote my favorite poetry book “salt.” and describes the piece as a “journey through warmth and sharpness.” The book discusses a wide array of issues ranging from the diaspora to colonialism to misogyny, which conveys the fierce interconnectedness of identities. Painful and poignant, raging and gentle, Nayyirah Waheed encourages self-examination, gives readers reason to be critical, and leaves them with hopeful words that keep us pondering the complexity and depth of her writing.

The US-based artist began writing at age 11. As a self-identified “quiet poet,” the internet offers little information on her background and childhood, which conveys something about Waheed’s personality. In one poem, she writes “listen to my poems./but/do not look for me./look for you.” In another, she positions herself “a bridge” between “what you may feel but cannot say.” She doesn’t seem to seek fame or attention; Waheed simply shares.

Endlessly.

Since she has shared little information about herself, and I’m not even sure what she looks like, I’d like to share how her words help my decolonization.

The poem on above forced me to consider the psychic and physical violence that I have inflicted on my body since childhood. From internalized eurocentric beauty standards to self-harm, I constantly brutalize myself and the image of myself. Mentally and physically we damage ourselves in order to conform to an idea of physical beauty imposed upon us through brainwashing and colonization. Waheed softly but powerfully suggests a starting point to be gentler towards ourselves: an apology.

Her emphasis on self-compassion and love, while seemingly simple, revolutionizes the way many societies in our world dictate the way we treat ourselves. In the poem on the right, Waheed writes of the potential of self-love, and the weight of its absence on her mental health.

At some point, I just began copying down parts from the book in my own diary to consult on bad days.

Aside from self-love, I appreciate her theme of strength, especially woman-strength in her poetry. She often writes about the resilience built through her experiences as an immigrant in the USA, as a woman embedded in capitalist patriarchy, as a black woman in institutions of systematic racism. Waheed writes about the energy necessary to bloom in a toxic environment, and appreciates her own power.

These themes represent only a few of the many issues Waheed writes about in “salt.” Although the poems are mostly short and the book has fewer than 200 pages, I took my time in reading each page to absorb every deliberate word; I still haven’t fully processed each poem. I will continue decolonizing as I re-read her book and recite her gentle words to myself each day.

“salt.” is available for purchase on Amazon, but thankfully, many of her readers have photographed pages of her book or posted quotes on the Internet. Googling her name yields many search results which display her poetry, if you’re interested in reading more.

Nayyirah Waheed has active profiles on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr, and her own website. She shares pieces of her work and showcases other artists who decolonize our minds.

The idea of “decolonizing our minds” is discussed in the writings of the author, feminist and social activist bell hooks. She encourages us to critically examine every thought and action, free ourselves from the coercive ideologies, and overcome the impacts of structural oppression. This bimonthly column will analyze spaces and times where and when we can pause and make strides in this arduous process, and also highlight figures who are helping us to decolonize ourselves. 

The post Decolonize Your Mind: Read Nayyirah Waheed appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Come visit KRUI’s table at Iowa City’s awesome Jazz Festival this weekend! We will be outside Iowa Book on:

Friday, July 1: 4:00 pm – 7:00 pm

Saturday, July 2: 12:00 pm – 3:00 pm

Sunday, July 3: 11:00 am – 3:00 pm

Stop by our table for some fun free KRUI swag!

The post KRUI at Iowa City’s Jazz Festival! appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Lately, I’ve seen many social media posts by women making a permutation of the same general status:

“Today, a man called me beautiful instead of yelling something crass from across the street. I’m grateful he was polite and not rude. This is the proper way to approach/compliment a woman.”

Initially, I too felt happy that some men had begun to learn how to behave better, but the more I considered the meaning of catcalling, I realized nothing has changed.

Just because he uses the words “beautiful” or “gorgeous” doesn’t mean he isn’t catcalling. The words he uses don’t change the fact that he feels he has the authority, the power, the responsibility to comment on your appearance.

I wonder if this is a misconception stemming from the presentation of catcalling, and its problems. Yes, it’s gross when a creep yells “nice ass” as he drives by. Of course, it’s disgusting when a man yells at you to smile and makes kissy noises at you from across the street. It’s ATROCIOUS when those men drunkenly whistle at you and your friends as you’re walking home for the night. But the words themselves do not dictate whether or not he’s catcalling you; the fact that he said anything at all does.

Perhaps people are right; maybe catcalling less awful when a man says “pardon me,” or “you’re stunning” or other less crass things. However, the root issue remains: the unsolicited feedback regarding your physical appearance. Women are always-already sexual objects in the male gaze, and this objectification manifests in many ways, including these vocalizations. As women, we are (unfairly) placed into two categories: fuckable and unfuckable. Men, crassly or gracefully, verbalize these thoughts as we walk by them, clenching our keys in the classic Wolverine fashion.

Honestly, it feels like as women, we are giving men a way out! Sure, you can say things at me on the street as long as you speak at a certain volume and choose certain words. Don’t let men off that easily! Don’t let them encroach on your body with a higher level of vocabulary and charming demeanor! THEY’RE STILL CATCALLING. I’ve always got a loud “fuck off” in my back pocket for these occasions, but this isn’t always the safest option.

Even the men who say “gorgeous” and “stunning” can become violent in the case of rejection or evasion. I’ve heard many stories from my women friends about creepy men accosting them to compliment them “politely,” and then following them for blocks down the street, sometimes even to their homes.

The danger remains for victims of street harassment even if the man speaks softly, dresses nicely, uses less crass language and isn’t drunk. The dangers of this misogynistic, authoritarian ideology threaten women in public places; men surveil, police and prey upon women’s bodies.

Think critically about why that handsome man in a tuxedo felt the “need” to approach you and “compliment” your body. While protesting these instances is not always possible or safe, we can decolonize ourselves and each other by examining these interactions and recognizing exploitation and manipulation of women.

The idea of “decolonizing our minds” comes from writings of the author, feminist and social activist bell hooks. She encourages us to critically examine every thought and action, free ourselves from the coercive ideologies, and overcome the impacts of structural oppression. This bimonthly column will analyze spaces and times where and when we can pause and make strides in this arduous process, and also highlight figures who are helping us to decolonize ourselves. 

The post Decolonize Your Mind: Polite Catcalling Is Still Catcalling! appeared first on KRUI Radio.