Saturday, February 28, 2015

Women's Views on News

Women's Views on News


Major photographic first now in Bradford

Posted: 27 Feb 2015 04:15 AM PST

Exhibition Rawiya, Impressions Gallery Bradford, women's photography collective, Middle EastPhotographic stories from the Middle East by all-female photographic collective Rawiya.

The exhibition 'Realism in Rawiya' currently showing at the Impressions Gallery in Bradford, presents the work of Rawiya, the first all-female photographic collective to emerge from the Middle East.

With its specific focus on gender and identity, the exhibition presents a thoughtful view of a region in flux, balancing its contradictions while reflecting on social and political issues and stereotypes.

Rawiya, which translated from Arabic means 'she who tells a story', is made up of artists who have established their individual careers as photojournalists by working for news agencies and publications throughout the Arab world.

Living and reporting in the region, they have an insider's view of the extremities of these settings; they also see how their reportage could become reframed in the international media's final edit of the events there.

‘Realism in Rawiya’ is rich with untold stories.

These range from a Palestinian all-female auto racing team and transsexuals in Jerusalem, to cluster bomb survivors trying to rebuild their lives, Iranian mothers of martyrs who visit their son's grave twice a week and parents in Lebanon who continue to wait for the 17,000 missing to come home.

International news events shown as a personal photographic insight into everyday life in the Middle East.

It is their shift in content and tone that carries the defiant force of the show.

Tanya Habjouqa's Women Of Gaza series includes a dead-centre shot of a family picnicking from the open boot of a car parked next to the sea.

As mournful parents wait for children to return home, in her series The Missing: Lebanon Dalia Khamissy records their absence with an image of faded identity papers set against a blank grey wall.

Laura Boushnak is a Palestinian photographer born in Kuwait. As an Arab woman who was raised, educated and has worked in several Arab countries, she presents projects that highlight the position of women throughout the Arab world.

I Read I Write (2009-2012) is a response to the 2005 UN Arab Human Development Report which indicated that Arab countries collectively have one of the highest rates of female illiteracy in the world.

The photographs in this series focus on the importance of education and the major barriers that many women face in accessing education, such as: poverty, cultural constraints, minimum public spending on education and outdated teaching methods.

Beirut-born Dalia Khamissy's work revolves around the social and socio-political stories in the Middle Eastern region, documenting mostly the aftermath of Lebanon's wars and issues concerning women's rights.

The Missing: Lebanon (2010 – ongoing) presents the reality of the parents who are demanding to know the fate of their loved ones who disappeared during the Lebanese civil war between 1975 and 1990: 17,000 people remain officially missing in Lebanon after being abducted or killed at the hands of different Lebanese militias and other groups involved in the conflict.

The series has a personal resonance for Dalia, who was 7 years old when her father was kidnapped in 1981.Three days later he was set free. Hindsight means she understands that her father was luckier than the others who disappeared during the civil war.

Tamara Abdul Hadi was born to Iraqi parents in the United Arab Emirates in 1980 and raised in Montreal, Canada. Her personal photography projects deal with issues of social injustice and gender stereotypes.

Picture an Arab Man (2009 – ongoing) attempts to break down stereotypes of how Arabs have been represented in the West, as well as in the East.

By highlighting the sensual beauty of the subjects, she challenges outdated notions of masculinity within the region.

Her series also attempts to break the global stereotypes imposed on the Arab male in a post 9/11 world, providing an alternative visual representation of that identity.

Myriam Abdelaziz is a French photographer with Egyptian origins. Originally from Cairo, her understanding of the culture, politics and economic struggles of the people of Egypt have allowed her to capture moments and detail within the Egyptian revolution through a local eye.

Transition (2012) documents the year following the Egyptian Revolution when the SCAF (Superior Council for the Armed Forces) took power, promising to lead Egypt into democracy and fair elections. The frustration felt by some of the Egyptian people over the lack of progress towards real democracy was made visible as graffiti on the streets of Cairo.

Egyptian Revolution (2011) presents the reality of the strong, successful, courageous and politically engaged Middle Eastern women who actively took part in the uprising. Aware that women from the Middle East are often portrayed within Western media reports as oppressed by men, Abdelaziz was keen to counteract this representation of gender.

Newsha Tavakolian, born in Tehran, Iran, is a self-taught photographer whose practice focuses on women's experiences and identity.

Tavakolian's shift from photojournalism to conceptual photography was partly forced by intense domestic political pressures on the media in Iran. She describes photography as: 'a way of breathing within the smothering world of censorship.'

With Mothers of Martyrs (2006) she presents a series of photographs of mothers holding portraits of the sons they lost in the Iran-Iraq war between 1980 and 1988.

The double use of portraiture within the photographs serves to highlight the contrast between the generations, and the ever-increasing age gap between the two.

Listen (2011) is presented as a series of photographic portraits alongside a silent video piece made in collaboration with Iranian female professional singers.

In Iran, female singers can only sing collectively or as back-up singers for male vocalists, they are not allowed to perform solo, in public places or produce CDs.

Tavakolian says, 'In my own country I participate, I tell stories that are also my story.

'For me a women's voice represents a power that if you silence it, imbalances the society, and makes everything deform.

'My project Listen echoes the voices of silenced women. I have let Iranian female singers perform through my camera while the world has never heard them.'

Tanya Habjouqa's documentary photography takes the viewer through the Middle East's conflict zones.

She aims to capture glimmers of hope, dignity and laughter, with the intention of countering the region's association with division and war. Habjouqa explores both male and female identity within her work.

Ladies Who Rally (2012) Speeding their way through the male-dominated Palestinian streetcar racing scene, the Speed Sisters have been heralded as the Middle East's first all-female racing team. Habjouqa describes them as 'independent, determined and always on the move', and has captured the women as they have charted their own course through the pressures of social expectations, family dynamics, community politics and an ongoing military occupation.

Fragile Monsters: Arab Body Building (2009) presents an alternative view of the supersized contestants in the 17th annual Arab Body Building Championship held in Amman, revealing surprisingly tender, emotional, and insecure moments among the men.

Women of Gaza (2009) depicts women and their families walking the fine line between hope and resignation. Above all, this series tells a story of survival, and depicts the attempts of the people of Gaza to 'normalise' life in an abnormal situation.

Jerusalem in Heels: Transsexuals of the Holy Land (2006) portrays the drag queens of Jerusalem.

These Palestinian and Israeli transsexuals defy politics and social convention. Habjouqa describes how the individuals she observed 'fall in love in a rambunctious display of heels and makeup, a colourful denial of the darker elements of Jerusalem society.'

And as artist Newsha Tavakolian said, the work of Rawiya offers 'a way of breathing within the smothering world of censorship.'

Realism in Rawiya is a touring exhibition by the New Art Exchange (NAE), Nottingham, and is curated by NAE and Saleem Arif Quadry.

It can be seen at the Impressions Gallery, Bradford, until 16 May.

The courage and joys of Lucy Glennon

Posted: 27 Feb 2015 02:36 AM PST

Lucy Glennon, Sue Marsh, disability rights,  ‘This for me was Lucy: she couldn’t bear injustice and fought it however tired she was that day.’

By Sue Marsh.

I'd thought most campaigners knew Lucy, even though she'd been too unwell these past few years to write much, but perhaps that is just because, for me, Lucy was such a huge part of campaigning.

She was involved with debra UK, often attending awareness raising events and meeting all sorts of celebs. Jon Snow and his snazzy tie & sock combo were a big hit, Cameron less so. I could never do justice to the Lucy story about the Prime Minister, Sean Bean and backsides, so I hope one of her other friends will share that.

In 2009 Lucy set up a group blog to review tech products for accessibility – the reviews we wrote were not extensive, but Lucy managed to bag herself all sorts of free tech which may have been the whole point!

She loved food too – that and technology were her two big writing interests.

"Jamie Oliver’s remarks about people on benefits eating cheesy chips is unfair. I’m on benefits and I prefer chips with aioli."

For the first few years I knew Lucy, through blogging and later twitter, that's what we talked about. We bonded as we both had connective tissue disorders – they had vastly different impacts on our lives, but still all down to fundamentally workshy collagen. We traded advice on technology and pain control.

But then, in 2010 things started to change for Lucy. She was one of the first and most impacted by the Coalition's welfare 'reforms'.

Initially I assumed Lucy would be ok. So did Lucy.

David Cameron made many promises about protecting the most vulnerable. And there was no arguing that lovely, clever, tough little Lucy was that.

When the government changed and immediately announced sweeping cuts to social security, Lucy was one of the first people to get involved with The Broken of Britain and later the Spartacus report. Living in Camden she was able to attend The Hardest Hit marches in person, nag all her journalist contacts and wrote as many articles as she could.

Disability and welfare campaigning have become a powerful movement in the last couple of years, but earlier in the parliament there was just a small group of people desperately trying to get the message out and all too aware that not all of that few were guaranteed to live long enough to see the next election.

Lucy was one of those I worried about most. People with Recessive Dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa (EB) die so very young and that made Lucy's situation so much more urgent. She didn’t have the luxury of years to wait for things to improve.

There are two stories of Lucy's to be told; the strong young woman with a naughty sense of humour who faced life full on with an awesome dignity, and the terrified girl who feared losing the independence and life she fought so hard to gain. I have agonised over whether it was right to tell that second story here. But Lucy wanted to tell her story, it became the focus of her writing both in the articles she published on The Guardian and the emails she sent.

If I am honest, what Lucy went through drove much of my campaigning.

She was one of the first to be impacted by the government's housing changes and it made it very clear that whatever promises had been made, the government had no real intention of protecting the most vulnerable. How could they when they were doing this to Lucy?

Lucy hated the whole butterfly thing and she was right to. Although it's an understandable analogy that people with EB are sometimes referred to as 'butterfly babies', their skin and internal tissues being more fragile than a butterfly's wings, its schmaltzy and Lucy was never that. Witty, cheeky, and the sweetest character, but never schmaltzy.

She was more like a little wave, her incredible force of strength hidden under the surface so all you see is sunlight glinting as it ripples across a pond, changing everything and everyone she came into contact with for the better.

EB is a uniquely painful and cruel condition. The skin and internal organs are so fragile that even a light knock or bump can cause terrible trauma. Morphine is required for things like nappy changes and parents are unable to indulge their natural instincts to hold their babies as close as they want when they scream with pain because it can damage them.

"Imagine a constant pain all over – a pain you are used to because it is all you have known, and you have it with you all the time, kind of like a friend"

It was typical Lucy that she referred to the fentanyl suckers prescribed for pain as her 'crack lollies'. For a while during 2010 and 2011 they helped keep the worst of the pain at bay and Lucy poured her characteristic determination and passion into writing, calling out politicians for an increasingly common bullying attitude towards those on disability benefits.

But what not as many people knew was the extent to which Lucy's life had been thrown into turmoil, fear and confusion by the changes to housing benefit.

Although she became entitled to a two bedroom rate, once the rate reductions had taken effect that was less money each week than she had previously received for the one bedroom rate and Lucy knew she had to move. Leaving central London wasn't an option, Camden was ideal for her to reach St Thomas's hospital quickly. It was also vital for her Dad Ted, as it meant he could get from the family home in Rotherham to Lucy in not much more than 90 minutes. She couldn't move to a cheaper suburb an hour or so away, that was too far from the hospital she needed and too long for her Dad to reach her when she needed him.

Around the same time she had to reapply for Disability Living Allowance, the DWP lost her first set of forms and she didn't know where she was going to live. This was all in 2011 and the wider understanding of the impact of these cuts, in particular how to deal with them on the frontline, was not really off the ground. But for Lucy, and those of us frantically trying to find a way to help her, the impact was all too obvious.

Lucy wrote this to David Cameron as part of a campaign on the 17th September 2011.

"I have never felt lower.

Because of changes to housing benefit, I’ve been reduced to a worrying mess. I face the possibility of being moved out of my flat that has an extra room for when I need a carer because the local housing allowance is dropping so much.

I’m entitled to a two-bedroom rate of housing benefit, but it’s dropping so much, it will be lower than the one-bedroom rate I’m currently on.

I’m too severely disabled to work. I cannot walk far, my condition is extremely painful, and I face unpredictable fluctuations in my disability where one day I may be unable to swallow properly, be able to get onto my feet, or even see properly. It is difficult enough to look after myself on a day to day basis, yet you are making it harder.

I receive DLA, Income Support and even Severe Disablement Allowance. Yet despite being acknowledged as one of the most deserving recipients of housing benefit, the office who deal with my benefit do not understand why I am to be one of the worst off, with no exception.

This morning I listed ten items to sell on eBay. These were presents I received last Christmas and on my last birthday. The items I am selling are two well made winter jumpers, some DVDs of films I enjoy, and three handbags (from high-street stores). I am looking around for other things to sell, as times are hard enough without the impending drop in housing benefit. I don’t have anything of big value I can sell, and although I love the clothes and watching the DVDs I am selling, I have nothing else nice that anyone else would want

You and George Osborne said you would not leave the infirm without help. Well you’ve let me down, and many others too. You have gone back on your word, and you are no man of honour."

As always Lucy put it perfectly. Where is the honour in promising to protect the most vulnerable, a promise Lucy had understandably thought would apply to her, when it was clearly a lie? A lie that led to a beautiful young woman in the last few years of life feeling so afraid about how she would pay her rent that she listed her Christmas presents on eBay.

Quietly, behind scenes, people rallied to help. Not the politicians who made those false promises, but others. In typical Lucy style she described her MP as "like a nice old bloke (a bit like the other Attenborough brother who does the acting). He wore a cuddly blue jumper too (I didn’t cuddle him)."

We got her into a trial housing advice project being run in by neighbouring constituency, her case was raised in the House of Commons, huge amounts of medical evidence were collected, checked and checked again. Lucy's condition spoke for itself, but still we got it all reviewed by an Atos assessor to make sure it spoke the language of the DWP.

Eventually the housing situation was patched together, her DLA approved and Lucy moved to a more accessible flat where she could still access the beautiful Bloomsbury squares she loved in her powerchair.

But that fear and anxiety ruined a whole year for her, a year just as she was becoming ever more frail, a year she didn't have spare to be spoiled.

What happened to Lucy is as much a story of how life changed for disabled people during the 2010-2015 Conservative/Liberal Democrat government as it is a story of a remarkable young woman who in her all too short time here demonstrated huge honour and dignity in everything she did.

I'll never forgive the damage this government did to Lucy – not so much the problems with her housing, or money shortages, but the brutal lesson they taught her about value, worth and honour.

But I'll remember Lucy, as she was the last time I saw her – speeding through the Brunswick Centre in her powerchair, too fast to catch up to, as she would have described it ‘flying like a squirrel on wheels’, crack lolly in situ, shouting 'go faster you piece of shit'.

"I can confirm it’s not possible to twerk in a wheelchair. It looks more like you have an itchy backside. You’re welcome."

Lucy Frances Glennon: 3 December 1985 – 29 January 2015.

A version of this post first appeared on Sue Marsh’s blog Diary of a Benefit Scrounger on 2 February 2015.