Tag: the law

Acts of Resistance: Photography, Feminisms and the Art of Protest

ACTS OF RESISTANCE: PHOTOGRAPHY, FEMINISMS AND THE ART OF PROTEST

8 MAR – 9 JUN 2024

FREE EXHIBITION, The South London Gallery

https://www.southlondongallery.org/exhibitions/acts-of-resistance/

When I did my PhD and then got my doctorate published as a monograph, I showed that, just after the invention of photography, Victorian authors associated photography with women and a challenge to the patriarchy and its law. Because of this, throughout the novels of Thomas Hardy, Charles Dickens, Henry James and Wilkie Collins, photography was belittled and there was an attempt to exorcise it from the text. They associated photography with a woman’s supposedly superficial and legally ignorant gaze in The Moonstone (alongside the Indian gaze of the Idolater). The reason was because photography was used to photograph the body and women were seen as bodies rather than minds. Therefore, the denigration of photography was the denigration of the body in Judaeo Christian culture and the repressed times of the Victorians. The most obvious equation of photography with women and their bodies is in She, where Ayesha, the epitome of feminine beauty and physical attractiveness is able to make telepathic mental photographs of the male heroes through her surveillance in her feminine empire and as an expression of her womanly power.

It was the feminine body of photography that was thought of as such a challenge to the male body of the law in these novels that I studied. A usurper to the throne. The medium of revolution.

Almost two hundred years after that equation of the photographic with women, I walked into a feminist protest through the means of photography at the South London Gallery. It was an exhibition space where women were fighting against injustice, state regimes and the law, like the laws controlling abortion. These women were trying to extend the meaning of protest photography. It was a fight of the truth of women against the ideology of the patriarchal state.

The exhibition label calls this ‘the fourth wave’ of feminist protest which is about the empowerment of women, uses internet tools and includes factors such as intersectionality, where there are overlapping oppressions such as misogyny, race and class (Wikipedia). The exhibition is organised in four different sections:

– Body as Battleground

– Institutional Failure

– Revising Histories

– Feminist Futures

Here, in this review, I am going to consider the photography that I had a particular interest in.

Sofia Karim, Ihtijaj (Resistance) (Delhi, 2019)

This photograph is part of a series against anti-Muslim citizenship laws in India which have gone against the ideals of cosmopolitanism and acceptance that Indian descent people like me have grown up on. The title of the series is Turbine Bagh, which is a woman’s resistance movement intended to go against the oppressive laws. The image is printed on a samosa packet made out of newspaper – Sofia was served a samosa packet with court hearings on it once. The image is something that is being fed to the recipient of the law, of news. It is food, nourishment. For the women’s resistance movement.

What strikes me in this black and white photograph is the relationship between the active body of the woman holding her hand above her head to make a gesture and the seemingly passive bodies of the other seated women around her. This is what is apparent at first sight: the movement towards resistance, the action. The active woman’s mouth is forming words. She is communicating, acting. She is energy in the face of passivity. And you look closely to the woman in the right that creates a relationship to this action – her hands are clasped in seeming prayer. The resistance is the prayer of the people, of women. The active woman is the heroine that they are praying for to overturn the injustice of the modern day state. And then, the passivity of the other seated women becomes something else. It is the gesture of waiting. Patient waiting. For the revolution. For the fire that burns and sears the world.

The humble samosa packet which contains the greatness of the revolution.

Hoda Afshar, In Turn (2023)

Tehran’s ‘morality police’ killed twenty-two year old Mahsa Amini for not wearing the hijab under government standards. These photographs are one with the protest against that legally sanctioned murder of a woman’s freedom and choice over her body.

The photographs are staged images that utilise the imagery of the doves, birds that are released at the funerals of those that have lost their lives in the protest. The birds stand for martyrdom and peace.

The women in the photographs are largely anonymous because anonymity protects the protesters on social media. These protest photographs show women plaiting each other’s hair and discarding their veils. The hair is plaited as respect is given to women freedom fighters fighting in Kurdistan against the Islamic state. They plait their hair before battle.

These monumental photographs are impressive and powerful. They give a body to the protesters and, with it, humanity. A community is formed around hair and the freedom to show it. The large format itself is a celebration of women and female bodily display, the ‘exposure’ that photography gives. Because, despite the fact that most of the models are anonymous, in the final images as we walk through the space, as you journey through the images and the story they are telling, you see the full frontal body of the woman with doves and her face is completely visible. And on the reverse, you can see the profile of a woman that braids the hair.

The plaited black hair of warfare and the white doves of peace tell a story. To have peace, you have to have the war first. Peace is the aim that can only be achieved through fighting for the rights to have choice and freedom. In the final photograph, a pair of hands braids the hair Another pair of hands superimposed on the back of the woman whose hair is being plaited holds the dove of peace and martyrdom. A reminder that freedom costs something. The fight.

These photographs are an inspiring celebration of heroism.

Sheida Soleimani, ‘Tulip Poster’ from the Series To Oblivion (2016)

This poster is a tribute to the Iranian women unjustly imprisoned and killed by the state. The tulips reference an Iranian revolutionary song that sees the flower as revolutionary hope – because although it is fragile, it is resilient and it regrows every spring. The numbers on the back of the poster show current published data of those arrested and killed by the Iranian state.

The redness of the flowers. Blood. Against the mountain in the background. With their stalks, the tulips are the ladders up to the peak. They are the scaffolding that can even go above the peak. To ascend the ladders, you have to have the revolutionary hope. Which no sword can cut down. Which no gun can diminish. The tulips are the beauty of hope. The beauty of the revolution. They transcend death with their growth. They have the beauty of growth, nature, resilience. To ascend the ladder of hope is the ascent into heaven. In the religious context of the photographer’s background, this is the image of faith in the revolution and eternal justice. Like Antigone, the photographer promotes the eternal laws of justice rather than the man-made laws of the earth.

Wendy Red Star, Amni (Echo) (2021)

This is a tribute to the matrilineal clan membership of the Appsalooke Nation which was erased by colonialism and its patriarchal laws. The artwork gives power back to the women in her family (the photographer who is Wendy Red Star, her daughter and her great-great-grandmother). And the power back to the names of the women of the Nation.

This was one of the most moving of the artworks in the exhibition for me. They called them Indians when they are Native Americans. They took their land and tried to destroy their culture and their people. They are us. We also have clan membership through our mother – Mother India is our mother and the religion of my mother is the Mother Goddess. It is this which the patriarchal, colonising state wishes to destroy and, with it, difference.

The names of power call out in the background, behind the photographic sculptures. And the photographs themselves build power. Out of the small photograph at the base, a greater entity is formed through the use of overlapping photographs. If you look carefully, you see that the aura is extended into the names of power behind, with the use of negative white space.

One of the ideas around photography when it first came into widespread use was that it could take away the soul of the sitter. Here, that idea is reversed through resistance against the patriarchy.

Because the photograph of the great-great-grandmother is there and the different generations, the photograph scultptures build up the matrilineal history which the law and the colonising state wanted to end. In the face of erasure, we have the form that has come back to us, become literalised in word and image. The phoenix has emerged from the flame.

…

The exhibition included many other pieces worth a careful examination and study. My overall impression of this exhibition is that I learnt a lot from it and I was inspired by it. We, our community, we also fight the wars against the patriarchal state and its patriarchal laws. For our way of life. For our culture. The patriarchal law wishes to kill what we are. We, the ethnic minorities, even if we are the men, we are also the women.

And the photographs showed the resistance can take many different forms. There are many dances to learn. Many songs to sing.

Time and time again, the photographs exposed what the patriarchal law of the state is. And why it has to be fought against. Not just in ‘other countries’. In Western type countries like Australia and Poland.

Sometimes, I was disappointed. One video installation said to become a ‘peaceful warrior’ and not ‘an angry warrior’. I don’t believe we should spit out our anger. But the philosophy of India is that everyone has their own path. Who are we to judge? As long as the warrior remains the warrior. That is the point.

The union of women with photography suggested calamity to the male Victorian authors that I studied. It suggested the revolution. The exhibit of feminist protest photography is the natural outcome of the resistance. As a form of truth which exposures the corrupt heart of power, photography has few rivals. These images demand more attention and more thought. Within them, they contain the resistance to the state structure and the patriarchal law. And, within them, they contain the conception of justice that the patriarchal law does not have, with its false claims to universality, timelessness and ‘truth’. By making photography concrete, by giving it the female body, these photographers have fought against the male body of the law with its male subject. They have created women’s – and photography’s – jurisprudence in the present moment.

In the end, the warrior loves the warrior. The exhibition is warrior culture.

Shakespeare and the Justice of the Oppressed

23.04.2018 –

Abstract: Violence and justice are linked. Our culture teaches oppressed groups in our society that violence is the only viable means available to them to resist injustice. These lessons are evident in Shakespeare’s plays in which oppressed characters always demand justice in bodily terms and in horrific acts against the bodies of oppressors. Hamlet is just one example.

Keywords: Violence, Justice, Law, Shakespeare, Hamlet, Nasim Aghdam, Cultural Brainwashing

A recent news item that caught my eye was the case of the YouTube Killer, Nasim Aghdam. The woman in question, now known as a killer, was someone that cared passionately about justice. As the Guardian stated, she “used social media to fight for justice on a planet ‘full of diseases’” (https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/apr/04/youtube-shooting-suspect-nasim-aghdam-profile). Nasim had been a gentle person from her childhood. In an interview, her father reflected on how out of character her crime was. He told the Bay Area News Group that “his daughter was a vegan activist and animal lover who as a youngster would not even kill ants in the family home, instead using paper to move them to the back yard” (https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/apr/04/youtube-shooting-suspect-nasim-aghdam-profile). What led a gentle woman that was committed to justice to such a violent conclusion?

Violence and justice. Violence and justice. Are these two things intimately connected? Or was Nasim’s final act just a random event? For the armchair theorist, a theorist who moreover has no time to pursue his many and diverse interests, everything has to remain at the level of speculation. My speculation is that Nasim was one of the oppressed. She was an Iranian immigrant in a country that is thoroughly and systematically afflicted with racism. She had seen how the human race treated our animal brothers and sisters who she felt an honest kinship with. What the immigrant suffers, what the lover of nature must suffer in this world of iniquity and injustice. Have you ever stayed up all night wondering where your justice is? Have you ever cried in your heart of hearts for justice, knowing that it will never come? As Nasim wrote, “I live on a planet that is full of injustice”. The justice that she was led to, in the form of violence, was the justice of the oppressed. Already, the reader is enraged. How can one call a random killing an act of justice, like the killer framed it? How can one speak of the justice of the oppressed as a form of justice, hence giving it some sort of validity and legitimacy? What evidence do I base this seemingly bizarre and arbitrary claim upon, that Nasim’s act was an act of the justice of the oppressed? The evidence is in Shakespeare’s plays.

There is a stock type character in the Shakespeare play, a Nasim, one of the oppressed that demands justice in the form of terrible violence. In the Merchant of Venice, the stock type is a Jew called Shylock. Because of the indignities and hate he has to face in a Christian country, Shylock demands his pound of flesh from one of his oppressors. Shylock is not alone. Tamora, the Queen of the Goths, who is captured in war as a trophy, also demands justice and exacts a systematic plan of revenge against her oppressors. Her wrath is terrible indeed and involves murder, rape and mutilation. This stock type, the immigrant, the oppressed that is out for a violent justice exists in the Western imagination even today. I have written at length about one such character in the recent Black Panther movie, who is called “Killmonger’ to emphasise his link with violence. The Killmonger, an immigrant, wishes to arm the oppressed against the oppressors and is therefore treated like a supervillain.

Why does the oppressed victim pursue a campaign of horrific violence against their oppressors? It may seem natural to link violence and revenge in ideas about “instincts” and “natural aggression” but this would be to obscure the cultural link of meaning between them. Moreover, such ideas obscure the fact that the oppressed have had to endure horrific suffering themselves to become what they have become. The reader of this piece has never seen the illusion of justice torn to pieces before their eyes and realized their awful impotency in this world of injustice. That illusion of justice, which gives meaning to the life of those that live in a thoroughly unjust world is what makes life bearable. When it is gone and replaced by harsh and punishing truth, how does one bear life? What illusion can give meaning and value to life again?

What gives meaning and value to the life of the oppressed is to be revenged. The brutal mental wounds that they have to bear are to be resolved in an act against the body of the oppressor. The oppressed know that they cannot attack the mind of the oppressor. The mind of the oppressor is blind to the justice of the oppressed and to their fury. This mind, the mind of the oppressor, is moreover, a mind shared by the entirety of culture and society. It sits there like an all-powerful Christian god at the heart of everything. It is in the so-called laws and justice of the time, the art of the time, in the literature of the time, in the music of the time, in the commercial transactions and economy of the time, in the international relations of the time and in every act and thought in this culture and society. For the oppressed, there is only one method to attack the oppressor. It is the body. And this is why the justice of the oppressed is inextricably tied to the body.

The greatest play of Shakespeare is about this same idea. Hamlet is one of the oppressed. He has to live as subject to someone who has killed his father. Hamlet knows that the only way that he can achieve justice is to kill his oppressor in a violent act. There is no other alternative. Hamlet doesn’t use poison or any subtle method against his oppressor, although he thinks of it. He doesn’t raise a revolution against Claudius, his uncle and usurper. The justice of the oppressed can only be expressed in violent form against the body of the oppressed. This is the ultimate lesson and finale of the play. Shakespeare has taught us that the justice of the oppressed can only take a certain form which allows no exceptions.

When the people judge someone like Nasim then, a woman who loved justice, and write their biased accounts about what led her to her act, when the culture that claims that Shakespeare is some sort of human god, I will always say the same thing. The oppressed have only acted according to the rules which this culture and society has put in place. They have aimed for the only justice which we have accorded them, which is the justice of the oppressed. These people are acting in a framework of thought and action which this culture and society have given them, a framework which is specially intended for them and which has been taught to them even before they were born. As immigrants and oppressed people, they have been taught that they can only express their rage in terms of the body and against bodies. They have not been allowed into the rules that govern thought, only the rules that govern the body and violence. It is this culture and this society that is ultimately at fault. It is Shakespeare that it is at fault. It is the oppressor that is at fault, not the oppressed. A woman that could not hurt an ant can become a cold blooded murderer because of a lifetime of suggestion and brainwashing in Western culture. And then, this victim, this same woman, can be shown as an example of what immigrants are like in this same culture, as just another example of the same thing. Such is the hypocrisy, malice and deviousness of the culture that we live in, and its ultimate injustice.