Capoeira and Change on Blue Snake Books Blog

5 02 2008

Remember when I wanted to know, “Can Capoeira Change the World?”  Well, now that I’ve asked the question, I’m setting out to find the answer!  This is to announce a new “series” I’m doing (the term will be used more loosely for this one than for my other series) , all about capoeira and change.  Whether it’s discussing the rise of capoeira angola and its role in the Black Movement, or spotlighting a specific grupo’s philanthropic project in Brazil, I’m going to cover it.  And the best part?  It won’t be on this blog!

Blue Snake Books, North American publisher of Nestor Capoeira, Mestre Acordeon, and others

Instead, the series will be on Blue Snake Books Blog, where I was asked about a month ago to do some writing for them.  Blue Snake Books is the leading martial arts book publisher in North America, including of all the (English) capoeira books we know and love so well, so I am very excited to be doing this!

The series will run roughly every 1-2 weeks or so and starts today, with a post discussing Capoeira as a Force of Change.  Be sure to check it out, and don’t forget to keep a further eye out for me there!

Update: Get a special project or person featured in this series, and win a Mandingueira notebook!  Click here for details.

 

Capoeira and Change: Archives

Capoeira as a Force of Change
Capoeira é Magia: ACSF and Why Capoeira Changes Us
GCAP and Capoeira Identity Politics
Growing Crystals: FICA Capoeira Women’s Conference and Initiating Real Change

(Background/From Mandingueira:)
Can Capoeira Change the World?
Can Capoeira Change the World? Part 2





Goodbye to All That

4 02 2008

This was an essay I read today, and it was so powerful and illuminating (the way a large searchlight illuminates a murder scene) that I’m going to re-post it here as today’s entry.  Please note that although it concludes as an endorsement for Hillary Clinton as the next President of the United States, I don’t necessarily prefer Clinton myself and I’m not posting it for that reason.  I’m posting it for everything the author writes up until the endorsement, and if you are anti-Clinton, please do not let the conclusion wipe out everything you have read before that point. I know it’s a long read, but it’s the best, most comprehensive piece of writing I’ve ever seen that gets across so clearly why I care, and why we should all care.  Please take the time to read it, and if after doing so, you still don’t understand, still don’t see the need for feminism, still don’t care or feel at all disturbed, bothered, angered or indignant…then read it again.

— 

“The entire future of women’s rights rests upon her election. Love her or hate her, she had to win — or all women lose because the resulting nyah-nyah-nyah from the misogynists of America would become a deafening and dangerous roar.

We solemnly agreed, even though some of us were really Barack Obama fans or John Edwards supporters.

We recognized that the stakes are high, very high, for women.”

-Antonia Zerbisias, Broadsides

GOODBYE TO ALL THAT #2
by Robin Morgan

“Goodbye To All That” was my (in)famous 1970 essay breaking free from a politics of accommodation especially affecting women.

During my decades in civil-rights, anti-war, and contemporary women’s movements, I’ve avoided writing another specific “Goodbye . . .”. But not since the suffrage struggle have two communities–the joint conscience-keepers of this country–been so set in competition, as the contest between Hillary Rodham Clinton (HRC) and Barack Obama (BO) unfurls. So.

Goodbye to the double standard . . .

–Hillary is too ballsy but too womanly, a Snow Maiden who’s emotional, and so much a politician as to be unfit for politics.

–She’s “ambitious” but he shows “fire in the belly.” (Ever had labor pains? )

–When a sexist idiot screamed “Iron my shirt!” at HRC, it was considered amusing; if a racist idiot shouted “Shine my shoes!” at BO, it would’ve inspired hours of airtime and pages of newsprint analyzing our national dishonor.

–Young political Kennedys–Kathleen, Kerry, and Bobby Jr.–all endorsed Hillary. Sen. Ted, age 76, endorsed Obama. If the situation were reversed, pundits would snort “See? Ted and establishment types back her, but the forward-looking generation backs him.” (Personally, I’m unimpressed with Caroline’s longing for the Return of the Fathers. Unlike the rest of the world, Americans have short memories. Me, I still recall Marilyn Monroe’s suicide, and a dead girl named Mary Jo Kopechne in Chappaquiddick.)

Goodbye to the toxic viciousness  . . .

Carl Bernstein’s disgust at Hillary’s “thick ankles.” Nixon-trickster Roger Stone’s new Hillary-hating 527 group, “Citizens United Not Timid” (check the capital letters). John McCain answering “How do we beat the bitch?” with “Excellent question!” Would he have dared reply similarly to “How do we beat the black bastard?” For shame.

Goodbye to the HRC nutcracker with metal spikes between splayed thighs. If it was a tap-dancing blackface doll, we would be righteously outraged—and they would not be selling it in airports. Shame.

Goodbye to the most intimately violent T-shirts in election history, including one with the murderous slogan “If Only Hillary had married O.J. Instead!” Shame.

Goodbye to Comedy Central’s South Park featuring a storyline in which terrorists secrete a bomb in HRC’s vagina. I refuse to wrench my brain down into the gutter far enough to find a race-based comparison. For shame.

Goodbye to the sick, malicious idea that this is funny. This is not “Clinton hating,” not “Hillary hating.” This is sociopathic woman-hating. If it were about Jews, we would recognize it instantly as anti-Semitic propaganda; if about race, as KKK poison.  Hell, PETA would go ballistic if such vomitous spew were directed at animals. Where is our sense of outrage—as citizens, voters, Americans?

Goodbye to the news-coverage target-practice . . .

The women’s movement and Media Matters wrung an apology from MSNBC’s Chris Matthews for relentless misogynistic comments. But what about NBC’s Tim Russert’s continual sexist asides and his all-white-male panels pontificating on race and gender? Or CNN’s Tony Harris chuckling at “the chromosome thing” while interviewing a woman from The White House Project? And that’s not even mentioning Fox News.

Goodbye to pretending the black community is entirely male and all women are white . . .

Surprise! Women exist in all opinions, pigmentations, ethnicities, abilities, sexual preferences, and ages–not only African American and European American but Latina and Native American, Asian American and Pacific Islanders, Arab American and—hey, every group, because a group wouldn’t be alive if we hadn’t given birth to it. A few non-racist countries may exist–but sexism is everywhere. No matter how many ways a woman breaks free from other oppressions, she remains a female human being in a world still so patriarchal that it’s the “norm.”

So why should all women not be as justly proud of our womanhood and the centuries, even millennia, of struggle that got us this far, as black Americans, women and men, are justly proud of their struggles?

Goodbye to a campaign where he has to pass as white (which whites—especially wealthy ones–adore), while she has to pass as male (which both men and women demanded of her, and then found unforgivable). If she were black or he were female we wouldn’t be having such problems, and I for one would be in heaven. But at present such a candidate wouldn’t stand a chance—even if she shared Condi Rice’s Bush-defending politics.

I was celebrating the pivotal power at last focused on African American women deciding on which of two candidates to bestow their vote–until a number of Hillary-supporting black feminists told me they’re being called “race traitors.”

So goodbye to conversations about this nation’s deepest scar—slavery—which fail to acknowledge that labor- and sexual-slavery exist today in the US and elsewhere on this planet, and the majority of those enslaved are women.

Women have endured sex/race/ethnic/religious hatred, rape and battery, invasion of spirit and flesh,  forced pregnancy;  being the majority of the poor, the illiterate, the disabled, of refugees, caregivers, the HIV/AIDS afflicted, the powerless. We have survived invisibility, ridicule, religious fundamentalisms, polygamy, teargas, forced feedings, jails, asylums, sati, purdah, female genital mutilation, witch burnings, stonings, and attempted gynocides. We have tried reason, persuasion, reassurances, and being extra-qualified, only to learn it never was about qualifications after all. We know that at this historical moment women experience the world differently from men–though not all the same as one another–and can govern differently, from Elizabeth Tudor to Michele Bachelet and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf.

We remember when Shirley Chisholm and Patricia Schroeder ran for this high office and barely got past the gate—they showed too much passion, raised too little cash, were joke fodder. Goodbye to all that. (And goodbye to some feminists so famished for a female president they were even willing to abandon women’s rights  in backing Elizabeth Dole.)

Goodbye, goodbye to . . .

–blaming anything Bill Clinton does on Hillary (even including his womanizing like the Kennedy guys–though unlike them, he got reported on). Let’s get real. If he hadn’t campaigned strongly for her everyone would cluck over what that meant. Enough of Bill and Teddy Kennedy locking their alpha male horns while Hillary pays for it.

–an era when parts of the populace feel so disaffected by politics that a comparative lack of knowledge, experience, and skill is actually seen as attractive, when celebrity-culture mania now infects our elections so that it’s “cooler” to glow with marquee charisma than to understand the vast global complexities of power on a nuclear, wounded planet.

–the notion that it’s fun to elect a handsome, cocky president who feels he can learn on the job, goodbye to George W. Bush and the destruction brought by his inexperience, ignorance, and arrogance.

Goodbye to the accusation that HRC acts “entitled” when she’s worked intensely at everything she’s done—including being a nose-to-the-grindstone, first-rate senator from my state.

Goodbye to her being exploited as a Rorschach test by women who reduce her to a blank screen on which they project their own fears, failures, fantasies.

Goodbye to the phrase “polarizing figure”  to describe someone who embodies the transitions women have made in the last century and are poised to make in this one. It was the women’s movement that quipped, “We are becoming  the men we wanted to marry.” She heard us, and she has.

Goodbye to some women letting history pass by while wringing their hands, because Hillary isn’t as “likeable” as they’ve been warned they must be, or because she didn’t leave him, couldn’t “control” him, kept her family together and raised a smart, sane daughter. (Think of the blame if Chelsea had ever acted in the alcoholic, neurotic manner of the Bush twins!) Goodbye to some women pouting because she didn’t bake cookies or she did, sniping because she learned the rules and then bent or broke them. Grow the hell  up. She is not running for Ms.-perfect-pure-queen-icon of the feminist movement.  She is running to be President of the United States.

Goodbye to the shocking American ignorance of our own and other countries’ history. Margaret Thatcher and Golda Meir rose through party ranks and war, positioning themselves as proto-male leaders. Almost all other female heads of government so far have been related to men of power—granddaughters, daughters, sisters, wives, widows: Gandhi, Bandaranike, Bhutto, Aquino, Chamorro, Wazed, Macapagal-Arroyo, Johnson Sirleaf, Bachelet, Kirchner, and more. Even in our “land of opportunity,” it’s mostly the first pathway “in” permitted to women: Reps. Doris Matsui and Mary Bono and Sala Burton; Sen. Jean Carnahan . . . far too many to list here.

Goodbye to a misrepresented generational divide . . .

Goodbye to the so-called spontaneous “Obama Girl” flaunting her bikini-clad ass online—then confessing Oh yeah it wasn’t her idea after all, some guys got her to do it and dictated the clothes, which she said “made me feel like a dork.”

Goodbye to some young women eager to win male approval by showing they’re not feminists (at least not the kind who actually threaten the status quo), who can’t identify with a woman candidate because she is unafraid of eeueweeeu yucky power, who fear their boyfriends might look at them funny if they say something good about her. Goodbye to women of any age again feeling unworthy, sulking “what if she’s not electable?” or “maybe it’s post-feminism and whoooosh we’re already free.” Let a statement by the magnificent Harriet Tubman stand as reply. When asked how she managed to save hundreds of enslaved African Americans via the Underground Railroad during the Civil War, she replied bitterly, “I could have saved thousands—if only I’d been able to convince them they were slaves.”

I’d rather say a joyful Hello to all the glorious young women who do identify with Hillary, and all the brave, smart men—of all ethnicities and any age–who get that it’s in their self-interest, too. She’s better qualified. (D’uh.) She’s a high-profile candidate with an enormous grasp of foreign- and domestic-policy nuance, dedication to detail, ability to absorb staggering insult and personal pain while retaining dignity, resolve, even humor, and keep on keeping on. (Also, yes, dammit, let’s hear it for her connections and funding and party-building background, too. Obama was awfully glad about those when she raised dough and campaigned for him to get to the Senate in the first place.)

I’d rather look forward to what a good president he might make in eight years, when his vision and spirit are seasoned by practical know-how–and he’ll be all of 54. Meanwhile, goodbye to turning him into a shining knight when actually he’s an astute, smooth pol with speechwriters who’ve worked with the Kennedys’ own speechwriter-courtier Ted Sorenson. If it’s only about ringing rhetoric, let speechwriters run. But isn’t it about getting the policies we want enacted?

And goodbye to the ageism . . .

How dare anyone unilaterally decide when to turn the page on history, papering over real inequities and suffering constituencies in the promise of a feel-good campaign? How dare anyone claim to unify while dividing, or think that to rouse US youth from torpor it’s useful to triage the single largest demographic in this country’s history: the boomer generation–the majority of which is female?

Older woman are the one group that doesn’t grow more conservative with age—and we are the generation of radicals who said “Well-behaved women seldom make history.” Goodbye to going gently into any goodnight any man prescribes for us. We are the women who changed the reality of the United States. And though we never went away, brace yourselves: we’re back!

We are the women who brought this country equal credit, better pay, affirmative action, the concept of a family-focused workplace; the women who established rape-crisis centers and battery shelters, marital-rape and date-rape laws; the women who defended lesbian custody rights, who fought for prison reform, founded the peace and environmental movements; who insisted that medical research include female anatomy, who inspired men to become more nurturing parents, who created women’s studies and Title IX so we all could cheer the WNBA stars and Mia Hamm. We are the women who reclaimed sexuality from violent pornography, who put child care on the national agenda, who transformed demographics, artistic expression, language itself. We are the women who forged a worldwide movement. We are the proud successors of women who, though it took more than 50 years, won us the vote.

We are the women who now comprise the majority of US voters.

Hillary said she found her own voice in New Hampshire. There’s not a woman alive who, if she’s honest, doesn’t recognize what she means. Then HRC got drowned out by campaign experts, Bill, and media’s obsession with All Things Bill.

So listen to her voice:

“For too long, the history of women has been a history of silence. Even today, there are those who are trying to silence our words.

“It is a violation of human rights when babies are denied food, or drowned, or suffocated, or their spines broken, simply because they are born girls. It is a violation of human rights when woman and girls are sold into the slavery of prostitution. It is a violation of human rights when women are doused with gasoline, set on fire and burned to death because their marriage dowries are deemed too small. It is a violation of human rights when individual women are raped in their own communities and when thousands of women are subjected to rape as a tactic or prize of war. It is a violation of human rights when a leading cause of death worldwide along women ages 14 to 44 is the violence they are subjected to in their own homes. It is a violation of human rights when women are denied the right to plan their own families, and that includes being forced to have abortions or being sterilized against their will.

“Women’s rights are human rights. Among those rights are the right to speak freely–and the right to be heard.”

That was Hillary Rodham Clinton defying the US State Department and the Chinese Government at the 1995 UN World Conference on Women in Beijing (the full, stunning speech:
http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/hillaryclintonbeijingspeech.htm).

And this voice, age 22, in “Commencement Remarks of Hillary D. Rodham, President of Wellesley College Government Association, Class of 1969” (full speech:
http://www.wellesley.edu/PublicAffairs/Commencement/1969/053169hillary.html)

“We are, all of us, exploring a world none of us understands. . . . searching for a more immediate, ecstatic, and penetrating mode of living. . . . [for the] integrity, the courage to be whole, living in relation to one another in the full poetry of existence. The struggle for an integrated life existing in an atmosphere of communal trust and respect is one with desperately important political and social consequences. . . . Fear is always with us, but we just don’t have time for it.”

She ended with the commitment “to practice, with all the skill of our being: the art of making possible.”

And for decades, she’s been learning how.

So goodbye to Hillary’s second-guessing herself. The real question is deeper than her re-finding her voice. Can we women find ours? Can we do this for ourselves?  “Our President, Ourselves!”

Time is short and the contest tightening. We need to rise in furious energy–as we did when courageous Anita Hill was so vilely treated in the US Senate, as we did when desperate Rosie Jiminez was butchered by an illegal abortion, as we did and do for women globally who are condemned for trying to break through. We need to win, this time. Goodbye to supporting HRC tepidly, with ambivalent caveats and apologetic smiles. Time to  volunteer, make phone calls, send emails, donate money, argue, rally, march, shout, vote.

Me? I support Hillary Rodham because she’s the best qualified of all candidates running in both parties. I support her because her progressive politics are as strong as her proven ability to withstand what will be a massive right-wing assault in the general election. I support her because she’s refreshingly thoughtful, and I’m bloodied from eight years of a jolly “uniter” with ejaculatory politics. I needn’t agree with her on every point. I agree with the 97 percent of her positions that are identical with Obama’s—and the few where hers are both more practical and to the left of his (like health care). I support her because she’s already smashed the first-lady stereotype and made history as a fine senator, and because I believe she will continue to make history not only as the first US woman president, but as a great US president.

As for the “woman thing”?

Me, I’m voting for Hillary not because she’s a woman—but because I am.





Joaninha & Mandingueira Join Facebook!

3 02 2008

Add Joaninha and join Mandingueira on Facebook! 

Well, I’ve finally done it!  Do you use Facebook?  If so, please support me and this blog (and feel warm and fuzzy in the knowledge of my thousand thanks)!  Here are three ways to do it:

1. Add me as a friend

My account name is “Joaninha de Mandingueira” (“Joaninha of Mandingueira”, bet you didn’t figure that one out :P).  And my wall is still a blank canvas for the first one there…

2. Join my group: “Are you a capoeirista?  Because you just turned my world upside-down!”

Figuring I should “give back” to the community that provided the inspiration for this post, I turned it into a facebook group. 😀  For some reason the group isn’t showing up in search results, so here is the link (hint: click on it and join!): http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=10223806822

3. Become a fan

If you like Mandingueira, check out the blog’s Facebook page (click here) and join to tell the world!  Muito, muito, muito obrigada for this. 🙂

Thank you again, and I hope to see you soon on my wall/in the newsfeed!  Also, don’t forget about the other ways you can contact me, through email (axejoaninha[at]gmail[dot]com), my contact page, or adding me as a friend on Capoeira Espaco, YouTube, or Technorati.  

Joaninha





Top 10 Reasons to Train Capoeira on Zero Hours of Sleep

2 02 2008

Do you have too much to do?  Too many committments to keep?  Are you barely training enough as it is, with still more piling onto your plate?  It’s hard to get enough sleep when you have a million tasks to complete each day, but here are the top ten reasons for why being completely sleep-deprived will not only not disturb your capoeira training, but may actually improve it!

10. You’ll be too sleep-deprived to be bothered by any mistakes or gaffs you make (which is a good thing, since you’ll probably make many).

9. You know that high you get from doing capoeira?  Well, now you can look and feel high as you feel yourself trembling all over while trying to hold a simple ginga stance.

Training capoeira after pulling an all-nighter will make you feel like you're in a different world...8. Face your fears: have you ever wondered how scary it might be to have slow esquiva reflexes while a flying martelo rotado comes at you?  Well, now you get to find out!  (Alternatively, test your reflexes: since you won’t have the mental capacity to esquiva consciously, see how well your body does the work for you!)

7. Crushed fingers, stomped toes, bruised shins—training on no sleep gives you a great opportunity to rack up all those battle wounds you can later brag you got “from training capoeira”!

6. If you’re a regional capoeirista, this will be a good chance to try some angola, as all your movements will naturally be done at the suitable speed.

5. All your partners will thank you for giving them good teaching experience, as they’ll be masters after getting the zombie-formerly-known-as-you to understand the sequences you’re supposed to be working on.

4. That throbbing dizziness in your head is good practice for continuing the game even after you get a real concussion.

3. You won’t give away anything in the roda, as your face will be too tired to make any expressions.  Furthermore, your eyes will be too small or squinted for your opponent to properly look into them and thus “read” your movements. 

2. You’ll be forced to give yourself a good work-out the whole time, since if you stop moving for more than thirty seconds, you will fall asleep.

1. No matter how tired, how sleep-deprived, or how dead you were at the start, by the end of class you will still feel like you’ve just woken up from the best sleep you ever had.

Picture source:
http://file032b.bebo.com/12/large/2007/09/20/11/1623693512a5600839013l.jpg





Excerpt: Salomão Mandou Chamar, a Parable by Mestre Acordeon

1 02 2008

Writing yesterday’s post on feminism and envy reminded me of a story I read in Mestre Acordeon’s Capoeira: A Brazilian Art Form, which was possibly my favourite part of the book.  The story is too long to be all typed out here (it takes up an entire chapter), but I thought I’d excerpt the relevant part for you guys.  It still makes a great and inspiring read, but be sure to read the entire story if you ever get the chance!

 Capoeirista playing berimbau on beach

The near-full moon was spreading a silver mantle and once more the compulsion to hold my berimbau possessed me. Its smooth wood was like a silk bow sliding into my hands. The steel ring was taut and alert like a horse lined up for a race. The gourd was shining in my hands as if its soul needed a human touch to materialize. I felt the texture of its carefully painted surface. One drawing was a roda with many people. Another depicted Mestre Bimba holding his berimbau. The last one was an image of myself sitting on an old tire on a beach playing for the stars. I looked around me and the scenery was identical to the painting on my gourd. The gourd had become the real world and myself a part of the berimbau.

The berimbau’s chant spread to the four corners of the earth like a thick veil keeping all creatures warm and peaceful. The shapes around began to change, the earth was breathing. The land was moving in waves, rippling out from the epicentre of the sound to the limits of my understanding. The whole universe was contracting and expanding in a constant pulse to the cadence of the musical bow. Everything was following a perfect sense of proportion. For a moment I stopped playing and this universal harmony was shattered.

Something moved in the bushes behind me. Everybody felt it, startled out of their dreams. Mestre Pastinha gently placed his finger to his lips requesting silence. The bushes rustled again and I felt goosebumps on my flesh. The contorted demons from the dragon/volcano were about to snatch my soul. They were the blood-sucking capoeiristas, the materialization of the misunderstanding and mistrust among ourselves, the expression of my own fears in all its forms, and they were creatures of the madness of this confused world. Confronting this evil frightened me. I was almost fainting when the student who was my son brandished his berimbau like a sword, clearing the area of the demons with its cutting sound. It was a fierce fight. The demons did not give up easily. For each assault my son defended by playing a richer rhythmical variation. I was useless, completely dead with fatigue. My son was fighting Capoeira for the life of his master and for his own life too. He was sweating, totally concentrated on playing. Daylight came at last and dispersed the devilish creatures. Peace settled on the battlefield.

One of the faceless students cried frantically at my son. “I hate you, I hate you!” Mestre Pastinha asked him, “Why hate your brother? He was brave enough to protect his master against evil.” He answered, “Because I wanted the glory of fighting the demons and he took my place instead.” With these words, his face assumed its real guise and I recognized him as the one nicknamed “Envy.” He could not learn Capoeira well because he would not free himself of the craving to be recognized, always insecure and jealous.

Mestre Pastinha handed me the last day’s drink. Its sweet contents reminded me of the brew mulher barbada. We walked towards the mountains through beautiful forests and meadows with colourful flowers and birds. The scents and beauty of the place kept me going even though I never was so tired in my entire life. I frequently lost sight of the surroundings because I was envisioning another dimension of Capoeira, a spiritual side of the art that broadened my perception. My journey into this realm lasted hundreds of years, through lifetimes of many masters.

Picture source:
http://kulasports.blogspot.com/2007/11/first-capoeira-weekend-2007-gteborg.html