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smell this: Undergraduate Women of Color Constructing Our “Homeplace”
Ruxana Meer, Rhacel Parreñas, and Catherine Ramirez
smell this is a shock of awakening. These women’s voices/images rant and rave, dance and crave. They are unabashedly colored and female at once. Without apology and with great valor, they insist on being wholly (holy) themselves. This collection is an agitator. It represents a new breed of women of color writers – young, bold, full of image, and outrage, and a respect for mother-ancestors. Adelante, hermanas!
– Cherríe Moraga
smell this, Vol. 1 No. 1
The three of us met while we were undergraduates at the University of California, Berkeley and we shared a common goal: the realization of a women of color publication. In addition to shaping our friendship, smell this, UC Berkeley’s first journal by and about women of color, shaped an understanding of our individual positionalities within systems of inequality. Moreover, our work in smell this led us to a critical examination of the roles we played in recreating marginalizations. [1] Together, the three of us helped to produce the first two issues of smell this. Our perspectives in this essay emerge from our experiences as editors, as well as from our multiple subject positions in society: Ruxana Meer is a 24-year-old, heterosexual, second-generation Pakistani school teacher in Oakland; Rhacel Parreñas is a 23-year-old, heterosexual, Pilipina immigrant graduate student in UC Berkeley’s Ethnic Studies Department, and Catherine Ramirez is a 24-year-old, heterosexual, Chicana, also a graduate student in Ethnic Studies at UC Berkeley.
We reflect on smell this as a watershed moment since numerous projects such as the UC Berkeley Women of Color Resource Center and Women of Color Filmmakers’ Collective sprang directly from the journal. After working on smell this, many women of color students began to organize in communities, while others pursued graduate studies. The three of us still communicate regularly with other former smell this members even though they no longer reside in the area; this essay, however, is clearly a reflection on and of our own particular experiences with smell this.
Being involved with smell this provided us with a network of support with other women of color who also felt invisible in the curriculum and population of the university. smell this served as a medium for cultural activism because it directly questioned the absence of women of color discourses in academia and provided an alternative space for learning, dialogue, and exposure to women of color through artwork and literature. We feel that it is important for us to analyze our work with smell this because each of us gained so much from the journal; it enabled us to grow as activists, artists, and students; and we believe that other women of color students may benefit from understanding some of our experiences
smell this
My objectives intertwined with the fellow women of color creators to achieve a publication that would contribute works of literature and art so vital to our needs, so strong, so expressive and necessary that one would almost be able to smell the product (Reyna 8)
Inspired by women of color cultural workers such as Pat Parker and Elaine Kim, Celine Parreñas, a UC Berkeley undergraduate majoring in Ethnic Studies and Art, conceived of smell this at the 1988 Women of Color Conference. At first, smell this consisted of nine women of color (including one of the writers of this article) who became editors simply by virtue of volunteering their services before anyone else.
Upon first convening, the smell this editors discussed both the necessary logistics of producing a new publication and more general issues of significance to us as women of color college students. At a weekend retreat we discussed why a women of color journal was important to us; what we thought of our past relations with other women of color; and why most of us had not been exposed to writings and artwork by women of color.
In establishing the policies and structure of the journal staff, the editors designated themselves the ‘core’ group responsible for recruiting staff members and delegating responsibilities to those who would participate in shaping smell this. After the recruitment of several staff members, smell this consisted of ‘core’ and several committees headed by the editors. Each committee had certain tasks necessary to the production of the journal; for example, the art committee was responsible for all tasks involved with visual art entries, while the literature committee was responsible for all writing submissions. Editors and staff members alike had equal say in selecting submissions for publication and were equally responsible for fulfilling committee tasks.
In recruiting staff members, the editors wanted as many women of color as possible to feel invested in our constructed space for we wished to create a journal that would represent a diversity of perspectives and experiences. We did not want smell this to be exclusive to a certain kind of woman of color, any woman of color could join because her experiences, whatever they were, qualified her to make decisions concerning a women of color organization and journal. Still, we grappled with questions regarding women of color identity such as: What is a woman of color? and Who defines women of color?
Due to numerous “outside” reactions to smell this, “core” meetings expanded from simple weekly updates to intense discussions on issues pertaining to women of color. [2] In these meetings, we began to tell one another about and analyze the many confrontations we had experienced with various students and professors. When asked why she chose the title smell this, Celine responded, “l chose smell this ’cause I knew it was gonna stink.” Indeed, smell this caused an uproar on the Berkeley campus and generated quite a “stench” among and between various student communities. To summarize campus reactions to smell this, we found the following most common: men of color did not understand why we needed to “isolate” ourselves from them and accused us of divisiveness; white men told us that we were ‘separatist” and were perpetuating our own exclusion from the university, and white women did not understand why they could not join smell this “if they wanted to work with and learn more about women of color.” The fact that most people questioned the need for women of color to have a space where we could interact solely with other women of color strengthened the editors’ ties to one another and validated our need for a space exclusive of people who would not understand us. Often silenced and/or ignored in history, literature, and the actual classroom, we were determined to create a safe place where we could freely discuss issues pertaining to our identities and oppressions.
Through our interactions with one another, the editors gradually and unknowingly began to establish a space in which we could include women of color discourse in our curricula. From our intense discussions, smell this evolved from a journal to an empowering space. Having gained from exposure to works by women of color as well as weekly conversations with one another, a few editors described smell this as “a therapy session” and “a comfortable place, a welcoming place.” [3] One editor wrote,
I congratulate those who have been courageous enough to express how it feels to be powerless, different, ridiculed, laughed at, denied, and yet, have found strength to keep going, succeed, and challenge those who tell us, “you are not important.” We are important, and always have been, and as more women of color come together to talk, write, paint, dance…and challenge the subordinate status we have been relegated to, the less our oppression will be. (Olmos 6)
During the first semester, smell this meetings focused on reacting to and defending ourselves against the “outside.” As editors, we constantly found ourselves arguing for and attempting to validate our existence as a women of color organization to “others” who deemed our “exclusiveness” problematic. Through these meetings, we eventually mastered the skills required to justify why women of color need to have a space solely for ourselves. In retrospect, the three of us realized that smell this helped us begin to speak of our experiences as women of color. Furthermore, it enabled us to see that many who asked us about our coalition really did not bother to listen to our answers. To paraphrase Gayatri Spivak, “Who should speak?” [became] less crucial than “Who will listen?” (59). The editorial board learned not to waste its time trying to explain why women of color need a space. We learned of the need to be selective and to only discuss our positions as women of color with those others who would not waste our time with defensive, uncritical remarks. Furthermore, we learned to maneuver around those who waited for us to educate them about “oppression” and those who thought that their good intentions automatically placed them in a privileged category. As Michelle Wallace reminded us, “Even the most progressive and sympathetic whites understand so little about how racism functions in their own lives, embedded in their belief structures, as to boggle the imagination” (167). Based on our experiences in smell this, we would add to Wallace’s statement that individuals privileged by gender also understand very little about how sexism functions in their own lives.
I have never been involved in something so powerful as smell this. smell this provides women of color with a means by which to contribute to the building of our self-image and history (Olmos 6).
After five months of taxing labor and intense dialogues among the staff, smell this crashed upon UC Berkeley. Despite the heated criticism that surrounded the publication, the editors were exuberant about our accomplishment. With smell this came excitement, then pride, and finally, dizzying hype. Without a doubt, smell this was beautiful. Comprised of one hundred and nine pages, it was filled with original poetry, prose, photographs, and drawings. More importantly, it was real and it was ours. The editors and staff had begun with an idea and diligently worked to make it tangible, something to be shared with others. After the first issue of smell this was released, professors congratulated us; distinguished women of color writers sent us letters of praise and encouragement; and countless students inquired about joining the staff. smell this was distributed locally, then nationally, and all 1,500 copies sold out within a semester.
At that point the editors began to direct criticisms to one another and ourselves. During “core” meetings, we confronted controversial issues such as heterosexism, class differences, and anti-white sentiment. As our ties grew stronger we attempted to tackle questions such as: Why are all of the members of “core” heterosexual? and Why are nearly all dating white men? Do the wealthier, more privileged editors have unfair expectations of their colleagues who are forced to hold jobs while attending school? Even though we tried to be honest with one another, we were unable to fully answer most of the questions we raised.
As the members of “core” cultivated strong friendships, some of the smell this staff members began to feel a sense of exclusion and alienation. Accusing the editorial board of elitism, they claimed that “core” was nothing more than a clique. Several staff members criticized the journal staff structure as top-heavy and too rigid in its hierarchy. At first many members of “core” attempted to explain why the dichotomous hierarchy existed between the staff and the editors. Editors claimed that a small, tight-knit editorial board was necessary in order to achieve the objectives of the whole. We argued that “leaders” were necessary to delegate responsibilities. Some editors felt assaulted by the avalanche of questions; yet these questions forced us to evaluate ourselves and our methods of “leading” smell this. Without a doubt the members of ‘core’ had created a staff structure that emulated the hierarchies of the society we criticized so vehemently; and thus denied other hard-working, dedicated women the opportunity to fully involve themselves in a project to which they were committed.
Despite the organization’s inner turbulence the journal remained very popular at UC Berkeley. Various editors and staff members founded new projects on campus such as an undergraduate creative writing workshop and the annual women of color retreat. Meanwhile, staff size and the number of submissions to the publication more than tripled. Perhaps, unfortunately, many perceived smell this as the hippest, most beautiful group at Berkeley. Jokingly, many editors and staff members referred to themselves (and were later referred to) as “Third World Diva Girls.” [4] As the journal became more popular, it became evident to the editors that among some staff members there were questionable motives for joining the organization as well as a lack of focus. Although most staff members were committed to the journal and desired to do as much work as the editors, the “fad” surrounding smell this attracted many who did not realize the amount of time and energy that would be required of them.
We have all been brainwashed and conditioned to compete, “succeed,” and emulate hierarchical erections. (Parreñas 12)
The conflicts between the staff and editors led to the restructuring of smell this from a hierarchy to a collective. Members agreed that restructuring was necessary to provide a more enduring and inclusive dialogue among the individual women. Privileging and exclusively amplifying a few voices, the editors’ weekly “core” meetings limited the potential of all to contribute. Clearly, the hierarchical structure of the journal did not promote continuous dialogue among the members. For example, at “core” meetings, the editors discussed and argued about the invisibility of lesbians and bisexuals within the editorial board, but did not put these issues on a larger group agenda. More importantly, due to their subordinate position staff members were not encouraged to criticize the heterosexism of smell this. Yet, despite the editor/staff hierarchy, the diversity of experiences in smell this forced members to confront the relational dynamics of our varying positions and concerns. Although editors and staff members united under the banner “Women of Color,” power differences, specifically those regarding heterosexism, skin privilege, and classism, propelled us to evaluate our interactions with one another.
Many women joined smell this in part to counter our self-defined victim status and the invisibility of women of color in the university, but few of us realized that the process of gaining support from other women of color required the assessment of our own privileged roles in relation to one another. As Lisa Albrecht and Rose Brewer remind us in Bridges of Power: Women’s Multicultural Alliances, “It seems to us that privileged people often attempt to distance themselves from their privilege to have greater legitimacy within the group and perhaps to feel less guilty” (147).After questioning our own roles in smell this, some editors felt uncomfortable about the distinct position of power brought by their status as “core” members. Thus, these editors examined how ignoring the hierarchy translated to the promotion of marginalization. Many staff members’ resentment towards editors remained an obstacle in restructuring smell this. Still, both editors and staff members agreed to formalize smell this as a collective in order to broaden possibilities for contribution.
In reorganizing membership, everyone became an editor so as to not stifle individual growth and politicization. Moreover, members had the responsibility of evaluating each others’ efforts, attitudes, and contributions. From this structure, members would be more able to exercise one of the most difficult virtues, honesty. In discussing the link between honesty and the success of a coalition, one editor commented, “We must always keep talking and can’t let our fears of confronting one another stop us from connecting with each other” (Tsang 15). smell this operated as a collective for one year but the group slowly disintegrated when most members left the publication; only a few new members joined; and one woman found herself taking on most of the logistical responsibilities necessary to the production of the journal. Having gained much from our experiences in smell this, the three of us are frustrated by the fact that this altemative space of learning for women of color no longer remains visible in the campus community.
Why did smell this, as a women of color coalition, fall apart? The collective members had different justifications and reasons. The only woman from the first cohort of editors to stay in the publication claims that relative to the relational dynamics of past editors, members of the new group did not have the same sense of accountability to one another; accountability being requisite for any collective to work successfully. She recalls that the original editorial board required that no one miss more than one meeting because it would be unfair to those who attended the meetings consistently; at the collective’s first meeting, remaining members of smell this began to press for a more flexible, “less uptight,” and more relaxed structure in which to operate. After working on the first two journal issues, many editors, including a founder, left smell this without good rapport with the remaining members. Some of the editors graduated, while others found themselves paralyzed by the controversial issues and unanswered questions raised throughout the course of the semester. Others simply desired to hand their positions over to staff members who would provide new perspectives and voices. Residual resentment from the hierarchical relations imposed by the first cohort of editors was also still high; understandably, many of the remaining members did not appreciate the positions of authority that they identified with the original editors. Many appreciated a new and more egalitarian space, exclusive of the pressures and expectations of the past editors.
Clearly, functioning within a collective increases one’s responsibilities. It is a demanding job that requires unlearning the modes of hierarchical decision making. Group dynamics were strained in part by unresolved issues brought by the departure of many editors. These feelings of resentment translated to a lessened commitment to the publication. Moreover, possessive feelings within the group prevented communication between senior editors and the new collective. This conflict led to a situation in which many new editors did not know and were not informed of their job requirements. As a result, costly and unnecessary mistakes occurred and prevented the collective from releasing the third issue of smell this. As could be expected, personal conflicts, remnants of the hierarchy and its tensions, undermined the endurance and possibilities for the journal.
On Constructing A “Home”: Differences and Hierarchies
Differences
In trying to critically reflect on and theorize our experiences with smell this, we realize that a counter-hegemonic practice occurred within a marginal space of resistance, where we “return[ed] for renewal and self-recovery, where we [could] heal our wounds and become whole (hooks, “Homeplace” 49). Within smell this, we were able to balance the traditional Eurocentric and patriarchal curriculum we received in our college courses with a critical women of color discourse. The constructed space of smell this enabled us to discuss issues of identity politics and coalition building stemming from our locations as women of color college students. We examined our privileged roles in relation to our communities and the political significance of diversity among women of color.smell this, as a “homeplace,” enabled us to have an alternative site of support with many women who faced similar alienation within the university. [5]
On first congregating as a visible body, smell this women found themselves concerned with the reactions and sentiments of nonwomen of color toward smell this. We revelled in our visibility as a “gang” of strong women ready to confront anyone who questioned our efforts. Many people seemed to dread talking tosmell this women and we loved it. When we discussed women of color issues, we realized many people felt uncomfortable. We found great satisfaction in reminding people that society is imbalanced and as individuals within society we cannot displace our responsibilities and actions from these imbalances. Within the “homeplace” of smell this, we found refuge and comfort. From looking at artwork to reading writings about women of color, to participating in weekly discussions, we learned to better articulate our experiences as immigrant Pilipina, Chicana, or secondgeneration Pakistani women respectively. Within our marginal “homeplace” we felt more able to confront the “center” in our individual interactions. [6]
As a marginal space, smell this allowed us to take advantage of the dual locations of “margin and center.” Within the “center” we experienced and learned the dominant ideology and in the “margin” we achieved “the possibility of radical perspective from which to see and create, to imagine alternatives, new worlds” (hooks, “Choosing” 150). We constructed a place that the university did not offer, a place from which to learn about women of color. We did not remain passive recipients of knowledge and as students in an elite Western university, we clearly did not completely reject the “center,” but rather we tried to take advantage of some of its benefits, our diplomas, for instance. We tried to “separate the useful knowledge that we might get from the dominating group from participation in ways of knowing that would lead to estrangement, alienation” (hooks, “Choosing” 150). In the margin, we constructed the sanctuary of an “alternative site of approval,” a homeplace for the sake of our selfpreservation as women of color in the context of an isolating university. smell this allowed us to examine the “master’s tools,” appropriate the benefits of higher education, and apply them toward our empowerment and, eventually, toward our questioning of dominant ideology.
As we continued to meet every week, however, our discussions led us to recognize the significance of the varying political stances, priorities, and needs of women of color within our small group. Working class women questioned the lack of efforts in connecting smell this to the community. Biracial women with a white parent reminded us of their discomfort when other members made sweeping generalizations of European Americans. These discussions shifted our concerns from a “Victim vs Oppressor” dichotomy to a critical framework that accounted for our own roles as participants in a complex system of changing and varied positionalities. From this critical examination of the diversity in smell this, and through our everyday practices, we began to understand the problem of binary ways of thinking that eventually homogenize women of color. We realized that simple systems of knowledge exclude discourses on how marginalized peoples can marginalize one another.
We had to go beyond criticizing white women, white men, and men of color and move toward questioning ourselves when our actions paralleled those we criticized. The “homeplace” is a location where we recognize how our privileges marginalize those individuals who have also given us refuge and comfort. In this space, we experience discomfort; although others may marginalize us, our marginality does not strip us of privilege. Having acknowledged the prevalence of heterosexist assumptions and the tokenizing of lesbians and bisexuals in smell this, we understood the need to identify our actions and assumptions as they perpetuate and reflect systems of inequality.
In smell this, we realized that understanding ourselves required the recognition of differences in the context of power relations in society. As Audre Lorde noted, “Refusing to recognize difference makes it impossible to see the different problems and pitfalls facing us as women” (“Age, Race” 118). Recognition of differences can be a painful process because it requires self-evaluation. However, self-evaluation hopefully leads to our becoming more sensitive in our actions, attitudes, and outlooks on one another. Deeply committed to coalition work, Lorde understood that “We sharpen self-definition by exposing the self in work and struggle together with those whom we define as different from ourselves, although sharing the same goals” (“Age, Race” 123).
Our experiences in smell this illustrate for us the importance of recognizing differences when working in coalitions with other women. Ignoring our differences contributed to the collapse of the journal because we failed to address the needs and concerns of many members. Not surprisingly, many felt disinvested in the project of smell this. Based on the history of smell this, we cannot help but think critically of feminists who fear that concentrating on an “adequate representation of “differences among women leads to the fragmentation of the feminist movement” (Bordo 135).
Hierarchies
In his essay, “The New Cultural Politics of Difference,” Cornel West defined cultural capital as “not only the high-quality skills required to engage in critical practices but, more important, the self-confidence discipline, and perseverance necessary for success without an undue reliance on the mainstream for approval and acceptance.” (32). Through smell this, we found other women of color on whom we could rely for reassurance and discussion of the imbalances in society. With them, we learned that we needed to manipulate the mainstream to fit our needs and find new avenues to implement change. West further described a position that smell this women were trying to locate.
The most desirable options for people of color who promote the new cultural politics of difference is to be a critical organic catalyst. By this I mean a person who stays attuned to the best of what the mainstream has to offer, its paradigms, viewpoints, and methods, yet maintains a grounding in affirming and enabling subcultures of criticism. ..
The new cultural politics of difference can thrive only if there are communities, groups, organizations, institutions, subcultures, and networks of people of color who cultivate critical sensibilities and personal accountability, without inhibiting individual expressions, curiosities, and idiosyncrasies. . .
It is a strengthening and nurturing endeavor that can forge more solid alliances and coalitions…
The cultural capital of people of color, with its emphasis on self-confidence, discipline, perseverance, and subcultures of criticis, also tries to meet the existential requirement. Both are mutually reinforcing. Both are motivated by a deep commitment to individuality and democracy, the moral and political ideals that guide the creative response to the political challenge. (33-34)
As college students, we had to stay “attuned to what the mainstream had to offer”; within smell this we criticized the exclusion of women of color in the university. We had to “maintain a grounding in affirming and enabling subcultures of criticism”; and we did not isolate ourselves but saw the history and the presence of other women of color as a contingent support for the production of smell this. smell this as a publication served as a “direct assault” which “triggered efforts to change the status quo” (West 34).
The important theme of the new cultural politics of difference is the “agency, capacity and ability of human beings who have been culturally degraded, politically oppressed, and economically exploited” (West 35). In the process of questioning the dominant ideology and the reproduction of structures in society, it is important not to limit one’s terrain. Therefore, an “alternative site of approval” becomes necessary as a space in which to question conservative ideological definitions and in which to find the strength to force these questions to the “outside,” especially given the difficulty of achieving institutional changes.
From our personal interactions in smell this, we learned that through hierarchies and categorizations, dominant ideology “inhibit[s] individual expressions, curiosities, and idiosyncrasies” (West 25). Although smell this women questioned their prescribed categories continuously, we failed to assess the effects of hierarchies on coalitions. Our failure to do so led to the collapse of our “homeplace,” because as Lorde stated, “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.” (“The Master’s Tools” 99).
Clearly, we needed to recognize that the “master’s tools” were at work in our own alternative space. As a coalition we needed to create a community which did not inhibit “individual expressions” but allowed the “silenced” (i.e., working class and lesbian/bisexual women college students) to speak up. We had a responsibility to make the “othered” women of color feel welcome in our organization. Although we did eventually try to be inclusive of the excluded, it still did not solve the discontent within the journal.
Establishing ourselves as a hierarchy from the beginning of the publication made it difficult to have a successful homeplace. How can a “homeplace” possibly be a homeplace if it emulates the hierarchy which the dominant society created to divide us from one another? Because we desired an egalitarian journal, we came to recognize the negative effects of the hierarchy established at the inception of smell this; but the individualism ingrained within us (more specifically, the editors) by this Western society prevented us from dismantling the hierarchy soon enough.
Many people still think that we cannot function without a hierarchy. Others think that a hierarchy is necessary since not everyone has the same amount of motivation, knowledge, and energy for “the cause.” These people see that the different responsibilities taken by people should be acknowledged and coalitions should be ranked by responsibilities. As evidenced by smell this, hierarchies perpetuate resentment and inhibitions among people who would otherwise be willing to take on more responsibilities. It is important for women of color coalitions to work within structures that allow for constant critical dialogue. Such structures force individuals to criticize each other’s faults, and as members find themselves with more responsibilities than other members, they are in a position to “call one another out.”
Conclusion
Upon leaving smell this, nearly all the original “core” and staff members wished to continue the learning process that began with smell this. We have done this by turning toward other issues and activities both on and off campus. As former undergraduates at UC Berkeley writing this article on smell this, we would like to acknowledge the three vigilant undergraduates at UC Berkeley who currently continue the production of the joumal. From dialogues with some of these women, we know that they continue to emphasize coalition work and the significance of the learning process involved with working in women of color coalitions. Women of color, mostly college students from all over the country, have continued to submit to smell this. The third issue will be composed of at least 500 pages of selected submissions from the past three years. We view these contributions, as well as the continuous commitment of the presently involved women, as testament to the continuing need for women of color to create avenues of communication and cultural activism.
Although the three of us have left smell this, our experiences working on this journal demonstrated to us that cultural activism is an integral part of our learning process and growth in this society. Through activism, one can begin to examine alternative ways to function in society and counter existing inequalities. To participate in the on-going evaluation of injustice requires working in coalitions; so as to not recreate existing injustices by remaining isolated from one another, the three of us continue to pursue other ventures. We have evolved from our experiences in smell this to become more critical of our individual actions and intentions in other alliance efforts.
In closing, we emphasize three main points to those concerned with activism and coalition work. From our experiences, we learned that the structure of a coalition shapes the interactions of its members; the different perspectives and experiences of individuals in coalition lead to divergent concerns and needs which may sometimes be oppositional, but can always be negotiated as relational; and finally, as we saw with our abdication of responsibility as editors in regard to the issue of lesbian/bisexual invisibility, the self is never removed from larger systems of inequality, and thus is not exempt from the recreation of injustice in his or her individual interactions.
Notes
1. We want to express our gratitude to the following individuals who promoted smell this as a journal and women of color coalition and encouraged the creation of a space for continuous self-questioning: Cherríe Moraga, Elaine Kim, Norma Alarcón, Celine Parreñas, Opal Palmer Adisa, bell hooks, June Jordan, Lula Fragd, Colette Patt, Richard Castañiero, Ricardo Bracho, and other editors and staff members of smell this. editorial comments and suggestions. Back to main text
2. Many factors enabled editors to transform the core meetings. The two hour meetings didn’t have numerous logistical tasks as did subcommittees, in which members reviewed submissions and wrote grants. The small size of the core group also enabled editors to talk more deeply about issues and concerns they had as women of color in the university. editorial comments and suggestions. Back to main text
3. The introductions to smell this included editors’ statements. The two editors we cited are respectively Rhacel Parreñas and Nives Wetzel “from the core editors” in smell this 1 (1990): 7-9. editorial comments and suggestions. Back to main text
4. We borrowed the term “Third World Diva Girls” from bell hooks. editorial comments and suggestions. Back to main text
5. Throughout the text, we use the term “homeplace” which we borrowed from bell hooks. editorial comments and suggestions. Back to main text
6. We borrow bell hook’s concepts of “margin and center.” editorial comments and suggestions. Back to main text
Works Cited
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hooks, bell. “Homeplace: A Site of Resistance.” Yearning. Boston: South End Press, 1990.
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Lorde, Audre. “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House.” Sister Outsider. New York: Crossing Press, 1984.
Olmos, L. Maria Garcia. “from the core editors.” smell this 1 (1990).
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Tsang, Re-cheng. “from the core editors.” smell this 2 (1991).
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