Fabric, force and freedom

Some days ago, a pregnant woman was beaten up. As far as I've understood from the media coverage, the perpetrators were men she did not know, strangers. Their motivation was that she was wearing a piece of fabric wrapped around her head. This incident sparked some public outrage, and a number of other people (mostly women but some men as well) who don't normally wear fabric wrapped around their heads had the idea to do so as a way of displaying solidarity with the woman.

This has since then been the subject of intense debate and criticism. Not the fact that some people think it's OK to beat up women - pregnant or not - based on their choice of clothing, mind you. That has barely been touched upon in the media. No, the debate has been centred around the display of solidarity by wearing the same kind of clothing. I have been following this debate with great interest, because for the past few years I've also been putting on a headscarf occasionally.

Freedom or force

The criticism has been mainly about the headscarf as a symbol of oppression of women. These debaters are saying that by putting on head scarves, the well-meaning participants in this "hijab outcry" are legitimizing the fact that many women are forced to wear it against their will - by their governments, families, or religious leaders. The headscarf is a highly problematic garment, they say, because it is always worn by women in relation to men. Regardless of the wearer's intention, it will be seen as a symbol for the woman as a dangerous, sin-inviting seductress, and the man as a sexual, lustful creature who can't be expected to control himself if he happens to set his eyes on the wrong part of said seductress. Furthermore the hijab has, at least in the west, become a general symbol for the structural oppression of women prevalent in many countries where it is commonly worn.

The participants of the outcry say they're defending women's right to their own body, by defending their right to wear what they choose. The criticizers say the participants are denying women's right to their own body, by legitimizing the practice of forcing women to wear certain garments. Tricky. I can definitely see the point of the criticism. The hijab is problematic, in the way it is currently used by certain governments and societies to control women. But the western world's demonization of it is also very problematic, leading to attacks such as the one that sparked the outcry, and contributing to the general othering of Muslims at large. Considering how clearly the participants in the outcry have stated their intentions, in combination with the context of the attack on that woman, I would say the action cannot reasonably be seen as a defence of forcing people to wear certain things. Having the right to wear something differs from being forced to wear the same thing just like sex differs from rape. 

In fact, I think in a way, the participants of the hijab outcry are addressing both of these issues. Here's why: I think the only possible way we can do something about any of these two problems without simultaneously making the other one worse, is by disarming the whole concept. Defusing some of it's symbolic value by saying: "Hey guys, look, it's just a piece of fabric! Why do you even give a damn about whether she's wearing it or not? Don't you have anything to do that actually matters?" And that is exactly what the protest is about. Showing, in action, that in the end it's just a garment, and as such I will put it on and take it off whenever I feel like it.

He wears whatever he wants to. So should you. Photo: Ken Owen

 

Orientalism

A whole different angle in the debate, is the opinion that the whole notion of white, western, non-muslim women putting on headscarves this way is just another tired old display of racism in the form of exoticizing orientalism. This kind of got to me, because I've often been asking myself whether I have an orientalist attitude. I'm interested in Persian, Arabic and pre-islamic middle-eastern culture and history. I watch Arabic and Persian movies, whenever I get the chance. I read up on the history of the geographic area through documentaries and Wikipedia. Sometimes I try out the cooking, with a recipe or an exciting spice mix I've found. When I was in Berlin, one of the main attractions for me was the Pergamon museum with the Ishtar gate, ancient Sumerian artefacts and impressive Assyrian statues. My current role-playing character is a young Iranian woman. And, as I stated above, I sometimes wear a headscarf. 

Now, I think it's time for a few words about words. In this text, I have alternately been using the terms headscarf and hijab. I'm using these to mean two different things. Headscarf is the most neutral word I could find for "piece of fabric worn on or around the head, partially or fully covering the hair". Hijab, as I understand it, really has a larger meaning within Islam as the general rules around covering the body, not tied to any particular gender or garment. So when I say hijab, I mean a garment worn in the context of Islam to cover the body. Thus, I wear a headscarf, not a hijab, because I wear it as just any garment, not a religious artefact or statement. 

Another word that is commonly used to refer to the same thing is veil. I have chosen not to use this word, because I find it problematic. A veil is something that can (and should?) be unveiled, removed by someone other than the wearer. This is a recurring figure in western narratives taking place in "the orient". White male meets mysterious veiled woman. In the end, he unveils her - but isn't it to allow her to become an object of his famous gaze, rather than to free her? When debaters in the west call for Muslim women to lay off their hijab, even if their motivations are feminist, isn't it just a continuation of that traditional orientalist narrative?

Orientalist drawing subjecting a veiled woman to male gaze.
Artist: Jean Léone Gérôme; photographer: Jerry Dohnal

 

Why I wear it

With all of the above taken into consideration, I'd like to explain my own reasons for occasionally putting on a headscarf. From the beginning, it was mainly as a way to show support for people's right to wear what they want. The debate about forbidding certain forms of hijab pops up from time to time, and I wanted to, as I said above, disarm the concept and show that this garment doesn't have to be such a big deal. But when I tested it, I found out that I really like it. First of all, I simply like the looks of it, I think it's beautiful. Secondly, it's often a very practical piece of clothing, believe it or not. When the sun is hot, it keeps my head cooler (I have thick dark hair). When it's windy or cold, it keeps me warm - especially around the neck and chest where I'm prone to freezing. In the kitchen, it keeps my hair out of the food (I cook a lot!). It can also be used as a scarf, blanket, towel (if it's cotton), or instead of an extra sweater. Simply put, it's the swiss army knife of my wardrobe. Lastly, I use it in role-playing; I already mentioned the Iranian woman I play, but I also use a wimple-style headscarf when I dress up as a European women of the middle ages. 

With a headscarf on, I can cook like this! Photo: Matthias Weinberger

Now in light of the debate about orientalism and exoticism, I wonder: Is it always exoticism for a white person from the western culture to take the kind of interest in another culture I described doing above? Is that a form of racism? How about "Japanophiles", is that the same thing? Or people who are into Bollywood film, or Native American culture and tradition? 

I think if we don't take an interest in each other's culture, we will never understand each other. And then, we will always be "other" to each other.

On Passion

I love programming. It is the perfect blend of logic, mathematics and language. I frequently feel like my brain was made for programming. When I took my first stumbling steps in the landscape of code (on a TI-83+ calculator) I grokked the concepts almost immediately. Moving further on, from TI-BASIC into C++, with the introduction of functions, classes and so on, only made things easier. The power! I picked up programming comparably late, and learned fast. I'm not one of those people who talk about the good ol' C64 with a dreamy look on their face.

I love games. I love making them, I love playing them. The freedom they give you, the ability to create anything, to be anyone. The possibilities for exploration through simulation, delving into concepts otherwise beyond human observation. Their uncanny ability to make even the most boring of chores into a fun competition, with the addition of some carefully balanced game mechanics.

I heard Valve are developing a teaching aid based on Portal, to help students grasp the concept of the fourth dimension.

So, game programmer should be the perfect job for me. But I also love working with my hands: carpenting, painting, sewing, growing food, and generally tinkering. And when I am unable to find a good balance between the brainy and the more practical creation, I get frustrated and unhappy. At my former job (also game programming), I once got the task of painting a shelf we had bought for the office kitchen. My boss remarked that he hadn't seen me look that happy in weeks, as I did when I was painting that shelf.

I felt a very strong passion for my last job. It was such a great place, with a fantastically friendly and knit-together team. I was so loyal to both the product we made and to the people I worked with. And now, when that's all over, I feel empty. The new job I finally settled on, after lots of travelling around and doing interviews, is in no way a bad place. My colleagues all seem like a friendly bunch, management seem like reasonable and level-headed people, and there are some exciting things in the pipeline. I can't point to anything that's wrong with the studio. It's just that I have such a hard time finding any real enthusiasm for the job. It's like I've decided that what we had at the last studio is something I will never experience again. That's probably a somewhat destructive perspective. I think I'm grieving a bit.

Then there's the slight issue of colliding ideals. I am genuinely worried - no, worried isn't strong enough - convinced that we are exploiting and disrupting Earth's ecosystems so much that they will no longer be able to sustain our current societies. I believe we will start seeing the signs of societal collapse during my lifetime. And for this, I primarily blame the growth-driven consumerist economical system. Now, the problem is that the company I work for feeds and is fed by the consumerist society, in a very blatant way. This collision of values leads to cognitive dissonance, and a constant shame for what I do. Shame is difficult to combine with pride and passion.

So, to conclude: I have managed to find myself a job for which I feel very little passion (other that my passion for programming itself), no loyalty, and where I am ashamed of what I do. Well done, Anarhichas, well done indeed. 

Of course, I do have a long-term plan for fixing all this. It's just so very... long-term.

Trying not to be

I've been wanting to give my few cents regarding #1reasonwhy (for those not familiar, #1reasonwhy is the tag of an ongoing discussion about why there are so few women in game development). Yes, this post will be about "gender crap".

First of all, I want to stress that I personally, as a woman working in the extremely male-dominated field of game programming, have hardly experienced any problems related to my lack of Y-chromosome. Actually, I can not recall any weird treatment whatsoever from co-workers. The only more serious incident that comes to mind is at a job interview when the guy who was interviewing me seemed to be doing his best to insult me.

I'll elaborate on that interview, because I think it's a funny story.  He said quite a few things that upset me:

• "So, do you play any games at all?" (Shouldn't the default assumption be that a game developer plays games? I had certainly not said anything to indicate otherwise.) 
• "Was getting into the game industry just a career move for you?" (After having told him that I had spent the last few years working for an underfinanced and ultimately unsuccessful startup studio. And, well, let's just say the games industry isn't exactly the best paid job a programmer can get in my country...)
• "It's hard to hire girls, because most girls aren't very smart." (Comments superfluous...)

Needless to say, turning down that company's job offer was a no-brainer (I also did my best to make their HR-department realize that there might be a reason why they had a hard time finding female developers).

Aside from that one interview, which is the only time I can recall having been treated badly in a professional setting, there are of course the usual awkward situations at game industry gatherings. For example, people just staring in disbelief when finding out what I do, or assuming I'm an artist despite having just told them I'm a coder, or wonder how I can possibly enjoy programming games (and this was from a guy who was also a game coder - hilarious). But I don't see that as a big deal.

So, do I think the whole debate is exaggerated and driven by over-reacting hysterical women? No. Why? First, obviously, just because I don't have any significant bad experiences doesn't mean all the other stories out there are less important, or less true. But what I think is most significant in all this, is the underlying attitudes that spawn these problems. And these attitudes are in no way limited to the game industry.

I can't say much about the situation outside geek culture (since geek culture is what I am saturated in and have experice from), but I have become aware for the last few years that the prevailing perspective among geeks in general is very male-centric. Expressed more clearly: Being a man is inherently better than being a woman. An example of this is how often "manly" or "male" is used as a very positive descriptor of something or someone - implying "female" as the negative counterpart. That terminology is something I find myself, and many really nice guys I know, guilty of using all the time.

manly = good

In one of the #1reasonwhy stories that hit home the hardest with me, the author talked about how she had tried really hard all her career not to be perceived as a woman. (I can't find it at the moment, will add the link as soon as I do.) That is exactly what my subconscious strategy has been, ever since I hit puberty actually. I have only started to realize this the last couple of years - that I am afraid and ashamed of exhibiting any attributes traditionally associated with women. Why is that? It's not like I'm transgendered...

A lot of this comes to show in my appearance. I never wear makeup. I've never been to a hairdresser in my entire life. Even though I like to wear skirts, I would never wear one to work (and I'm talking shin- or ankle-length skirts here, not the knee or [gasp] thigh-length varieties). I carefully avoid showing too much skin (a former boyfriend once told me I was the "most dressed" person he knew). I only recently started wearing clothes in which the shape of the body can be seen (i.e., other clothes than big T-shirts, hoodies, and baggy jeans). Sure, it happens that I put on a skirt or a dress for a party with friends, but in professional settings I somehow feel that if I mark myself too clearly as a woman I would not be taken seriously, I would not seem like a real programmer.

That's not a skirt.

That's a skirt!

When trying to get into any social context, especially among geeks, I always strive to become "one of the guys" as quickly as possible - at the expense of getting to know the other women who might be there. When someone asks me about my gaming habits, I tend to mention FPS rather than adventure games or board games as my genre of choice. And I prefer not to say that I play as medic in Battlefield and Planetside. This comic illustrate my fear very well - the fear of being somehow revealed to be "fake" (not just as a geek or a gamer, but as a competent professional).

Is this behaviour irrational? I don't know. Would I have been less lucky with my game-industry adventures if I didn't try so hard not to be perceived as a woman? Frankly, I don't think I dare to put it to the test.

It is time.

I have felt it for a few months now. Felt the need to express myself, the desire for a place where I can relate to what I read. The need for opportunity to introspect, to delve into what I feel and think. Besides, it's about time, though being the chronic lurker I am it is no surprise that I would be late to the blogging party. 

A couple of words about the blog name. The name is of course inspired by the Hipster INTJ blog, but I have no relation to that blog other than having it in my RSS feed. This blog is not about Myers-Briggs. "Hippie" and "INTJ" are simply words that describe me well, sound OK together, and their combined scope is broad enough to encompass most of what I expect to write here. 
 

Blog Manifesto

I've considered what I want this blog to be, and what I do not want it to be. I might as well write it down, so that all involved (which, at the time of writing, is just myself) know what to expect.

• I will write about thoughts and emotions, rather than activities and events.
• I will write primarily for myself. If anyone else wants to read, that's all well and good, but the purpose of this blog is not to attract followers. 
• This blog will be pseudonymous. (So if you're reading this and happen to know who I am, I ask you not to identify me in comments or linked posts.)
• The style will be personal rather than academic.
• I will write about any subject that I feel like writing about. Thus, this blog will not have any one specific theme. I will however make good use of tags to identify the subject of each post, to make things easier for both writer and reader. 
• I will not write unless I have something sufficiently substantial to write about. That means I will not write regularly. 
• I am not allowed to post autobiographical anecdotes unless they are really relevant to the subject. 
• If I cannot adequately express what I want in English, I will express it in my first language instead.