Volume 6, Issue 2: Spring/May 1985
- Asian Canadian Lesbians
- Editorial
- I Live By My Dance
- A Minority Within A Minority
- No Help From Anyone
- Sachiko
Asian Canadian Lesbians
Why They Don't Trust Each Other
by Phoenix
The following article was written by a gay Asian woman living in Toronto. She does not attempt to speak for all Asian lesbians - or to draw any definitive conclusions. What she offers us are some deeply personal thoughts, feelings and questions about being a "minority within a minority within a minority".
As Asian or Asian Canadian women in this country we are j often placed in situations where we must ask ourselves the question, "Do I see myself as Asian?" Personally, when I look into the mirror I do not see an Asian face immediately. First I . see myself. Generally, I have not felt very self-conscious about my race. However, a recent experience with racism has forced me to confront the fact that most people see me as an Asian first, a woman second - and, finally, as a person. Arid along with the obstacles of being non-white and female in this society, I also have to deal with the obstacle of being gay.
Society still finds it difficult to accept lesbianism. Thus, as Asian lesbians we sometimes find it hard to come to terms with our sexuality. We do not have the freedom to simply be ourselves. When we look around us we find very few vocal Asian lesbians -women willing to discuss such matters as prejudice, Asian Canadian identity, and, particularly, lifestyle and sexuality. In fact, while working on this article I had problems finding Asian lesbians willing to be anonymously interviewed. Asian lesbians tend to be less visible, more low profile than gay Asian men. Hence, society is given the false impression that Asian lesbianism is non-existent.
As an active member of the gay community and Gay Asians of Toronto, I have only managed to meet a handful of Asian lesbians. These women are either Canadian-born or they immigrated to Canada at a very young age. Many of them revealed to me that as young teenagers they emulated their white counterparts, either consciously or subconsciously, in order to be accepted. But now, through their realization of who they really are, they are developing pride in their cultural heritages and are just trying to feel . comfortable about themselves.
The Asian gay male community appears to be larger and more cohesive than the Asian lesbian community - if such a distinct community exists. I can only speculate from my personal viewpoint. As far as I am aware, Asian lesbians do not have a specific hang-out or organization that they can really go to. What they have is what one might call a subculture. A newcomer is introduced into the general lesbian subculture by a recognized member of that subculture. An Asian lesbian who finds a lover might 'settle down' with her lover (if she does not break up with her from fear of being found out). And if an Asian lesbian does participate in gay community events she does so at a very low profile. In general, my lover (who is white) and I find that gay men, Asian or white, are much friendlier to us than any lesbians are. It is also interesting to note that straight Asian women are much more approachable and friendly than fellow lesbians whom we meet for the first time. Our experience as a couple is not unique. Our close lesbian friends and the Asian lesbians whom I have interviewed comment on the same phenomenon.
I think that if Asian lesbians could somehow overcome this irrational, nebulous sense of distrust they could really gain a lot of support and strength from each other. For once I would like to be able to walk up to an Asian lesbian whom I have never met before and simply say "hello" without being resented and looked at suspiciously. The goal here is not necessarily to form a separate Asian lesbian community, but just to create open lines of communication and break down these self-defeating barriers which contribute to our invisibility and isolation. An Asian lesbian is clearly a minority within a minority. But she can help free herself and strengthen herself by becoming less invisible - and by taking pride in the fact that other Asian lesbians exist.
I presume that the lack of warmth and solidarity arises from insecurity, that is, these lesbians feel that we are breaking into their territory - or that we, as individuals, are a threat to their relationships with their lovers. There are times when I walk into a bar and chance to see another Asian lesbian. I feel compelled to run up to her and greet her as a long lost friend. However, one look from her tells me, "What the hell are you doing in here?" This kind of reaction, of course, makes me back off immediately. What I do not yet understand is why this distance and often hostility exists between one Asian lesbian and another when they encounter each other for the first time. Is it because they have adopted a straight white man's view of an Asian woman - that is, a passive, submissive and exotic object? Hence, does the Asian lesbian think she is in great demand by white lesbians, and thus does she see the presence of another Asian lesbian in the room as competition? Is this why even straight Asian women who are strangers to each other tend to size each other up? Has the narrow media image of the submissive, exotic Asian doll become so deeply entrenched in our psyches that we must see other Asian women as threats-as potential competition? If this is how the Asian lesbian feels on a conscious or subconscious level, then she is greatly mistaken and doing herself a disservice. All the Asian lesbians whom i have gotten to know are in no way a threat to other Asian lesbians, or to the larger lesbian community. The only disadvantage/advantage they might have is that they are a visible invisible minority.
Editorial
The Strength of Asian Women
Seven years ago The Asianadian published its first issue devoted to Asian women (Vol. 1, No. 3, Fall 1978). It was a pioneering effort which touched on many sensitive areas: our alienation from the larger society; the cultural values which define a woman's role in the community as well as in the family; our isolation from the mainstream women's movement. A common theme that emerged was one of isolation and frustration faced by Asian women in all these spheres.
Many exciting things have happened in the past decade. Although the issues are by and large the same, we feel that a new collective consciousness and sharing of common aspirations is growing among Asian women. Alienated by the radical chic of the mainstream women's movement with its yuppie, man-eater image verging on female chauvinism, immigrant women have begun to organize on their own. In the last few years the national and provincial networks of immigrant women have emerged.
A coalition of visible minority women has been formed in Toronto. Chinese, Filipino, East Indian, Korean, Latin American and Black Women have joined in these organizations to share, work together and build bridges between our diverse communities. Coming together in these forums we realize that there are many similarities in our communities. While struggling to find a new definition of our roles within the family and in our communities, we recognize that as the "other" in Canadian society, our men and children also experience race discrimination and alienation from the larger Canadian society. Within the context of socioeconomic class and race which determine the position of our immigrant communities, how do we, as women, begin to define our role? This is the central question facing us today.
In traditional Asian societies there is a strong bond among women, particularly among family members and friends. This friendship between women is what we miss the most in Canadian society. What is exciting about these women's groups and organizations is the non-competitive and empathetic milieu in which women share, discuss and enjoy each other's company.
Germaine Greer, a leading mentor of western feminists, has recently discovered that the women of these cultures know how to co-operate and share and work collectively. This quality is somehow lacking in the western world where women are individualistic and competitive and their position in society appears to be determined more as a result of reaction to the male position than from a collective female consciousness. In fact, she sees the future of the feminist movement not in western society but in societies such as India, Bangladesh, Africa and Iran.
This collective, cooperative consciousness among us Asian women is our strength. We find it easier to work collectively as well as to cooperate with and understand our men. This strength is what we must nurture.
As relatively new immigrants in Canada Asian women are only beginning to understand their new identity. Of course, there are among us many individual success stories of women who have "made it" in the mainstream Canadian society, career-wise or through their academic achievement. However, even for these women, the structure of their communities creates a tension between their aspirations and the traditional cultural values. The politically active woman, the professional or working woman is still struggling to define her role in the family and to gain acceptance in the community. This tension can either be viewed as a positive force or a destructive one. It can be a challenge which can bring a new resolution not only in the lives of women, it can help shape the larger community.
In this issue of The Asianadian we have consciously focussed on the struggles and hopes of women who are not yet success stories. These are women who are in the process of "becoming". There are few models for them to follow nor any easy answers. In that sense their individual struggles are totally creative and inspirational. We have deliberately done little academic analysis. We have presented the stories of these women, as much as possible, in their own words. We hope that their stories will strike a resonance in the reader as they did in us.
by Meena Dhar
Momoye Sugiman
I Live By My Dance
A Conversation with Rina Singha
by Meena Dhar
Rina Singha, who immigrated to Canada in 1965 from India, is the founder-director of the Kathak Institute in Toronto, and the Canadian Multicultural Dance Theatre. The objective of the theatre is to develop school and community projects for the purpose of fostering intercultural understanding.
Presently Rina is experimenting with biblical themes for her Kathak dance performances. Kathak is the ancient classical dance of North India.
Rina's upcoming work, which she hopes to perform this year, is entitled Illuminations. This work explores the theme of God's love for man. She has over the last few years performed and choreographed Genesis (1981) and Rites of Spjring (1980) and many other solo concerts.
Rina recently completed her M.Ed. degree at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education in Toronto.
Meena Dhar of The Asianadian interviewed Rina Singha recently in Toronto.
ASIANADIAN: You have very high academic qualifications and you have also studied Kathak. How did this come about.
SINGHA: I started learning Kathak as a hobby while I was at University. It really took hold of me. When I finished my M.A. in Geography I got a government scholarship to study under Shambhu Maharaj Ji, at that time the greatest living exponent of Kathak. I studied at the Bharatiya Kala Kendra in Delhi, which is one of India's best known institutes of classical dance.
I graduated with a first class in Geography and incidentally also stood first in the University. So I always had the idea, even when I was with Shambhu Maharaj Ji, that if things didn't work out in dance, I could always fall back on an academic career. But after having learned dance for four years with Shambhu Maharaj Ji my heart was in dance.
A: What was it like to study under a great master like Shambhu Maharaj Ji?
SINGHA: We worked day and night, eight hours of hard physical labour. Looking back on those years now -they were the "God's Gift" years of my life. Look at the teachers we had - Shambhu Maharaj Ji, Dagar Brothers, Hafiz Ali Khan - all really great people. 1 was watched over by these people for whom there was nothing else but God and Art. Their influence has stayed with me up to now, even though I finished training with them in 1960. I was very lucky to have had them as my teachers.
I still think of my teachers and the inspiration they instilled in me. They pushed your inner self to do its best. By teaching with love, they didn't just set high standards and demand that we meet them on our own. Instead they encouraged us with love and brought us up to these standards. They didn't have to do that. We would have been happy just to walk in their shadow. Yet they reached out to each individual student. We were people to them. We weren't just numbers, which is what happens in institutions now.
A: Why did you decide to leave India?
SINGHA: There were many things I saw around me in the dance world that I didn't like. At a certain point in your career you had to make compromises or you wouldn't get ahead. I didn't like that. It conflicted with my values. I decided I had to get away for a while.
A: You have academic qualifications as well as dance training. How did you decide which direction to take?
SINGHA: Shamhu Maharaj Ji used to say to us: "Why do I insist that you must practice and learn well? Tomorrow if anything happens at least you will be able to earn your livelihood with your dance."
At that time I felt that this statement didn't apply to me. I had an M.A. degree and a job waiting. However, at every crisis point in my life, dance is what has always come to my rescue. When I got a teaching job in England there were many other teachers who applied but I got the job because I could teach geography and dance. Now I have been separated from my husband for over two years and I have been earning a living by my dancing only by dancing.
A: How did you adjust to life in Canada?
SINGHA: I feel that my life has now come a full circle. First I was given a scholarship to study Kathak and now I have started a school of Kathak here.
have been in Canada now for 19 years. It's only in the last two years that I have been able to get back to my dream of doing Kathak and imparting that traditional training to other people. It has taken a long time. You can't come here and start right away. There was my personal adjustment, my family adjustment, and the thing about being an immigrant woman.
A: What kind of family adjustment did you have to go through?
SINGHA: When I came to Canada my older daughter was little. She is deaf. So I used my dance and my education to help her and other handicapped children to adjust.
I've used dance as a way of reaching my daughter, helping her understand her own identity. My daughter would ask: "Why is my mother brown and why is everybody else around me white? Why am I brown and all my friends white?" She had a limited vocabulary of about a hundred words and yet she was asking questions about the brown colour of her skin.
I had to get to her in a creative way- at a child's level. Make her understand that there was nothing wrong in being a different colour just as there was nothing wrong with her being a handicapped person. She had to accept herself in both of these things.
A: How did you use dance to cope with these problems?
SINGHA: I developed an educational programme called A Cultural Approach to Learning in which I combined my personal experiences with my daughter, my academic training and my training in dance and the related arts.
lso I taught Kathak at York University and I wrote a book on Indian dance. I started working with immigrant children in the Toronto school system. My focus was on intercultural understanding. I learned the dances of other countries and incorporated them into my educational programme.
I did an interesting project in one of the inner city schools. I had been hired to teach the kids a little bit about India and some Indian dance. But I used the occasion to tell them about respecting themselves and respecting other people. That is foremost in my philosophy of life, art and teaching -that people must respect each other. I really believe that.
Sometimes I found children pushing each other and wanting to be at the front of the stage. It bothered me a lot. I would say to them: "You are supposed to be working in groups. If you fight each other it will never work out. The audience will see lots of little individuals fighting with each other. They will not see groups doing things together." At times I felt I was going against the grain - against the competitive attitude of Western society.
A: You said you are teaching Kathak now. Who are your students? SINGHA: They are older Indian girls who want to go back to their roots.
Some of my students are already good dancers. I am teaching them to learn in depth. It is very beautiful to watch them at work. You can see doors opening for them leading them deeper into their roots. Certainly deeper than they would by watching Indian movies or experiencing Indian culture at the pop art level.
The search of these children is initiated from within, they are learning dance of their own choice. I try to teach with love, something that I find missing in the world nowadays. I try to impart to them the feeling that art has to better us as people and not to bring us down. Because whenever you bring someone down you are dragging yourself down as well.
A: Could you explain a bit about your philosophy of teaching?
SINGHA: In North America you are expected to be competitive and publicity conscious. You can't succeed without that. If somebody doesn't matter to your career you walk all over him. It is very difficult for people who are trained like me to do that, because of our gurus' example. They were so great in accomplishment and yet so humble in attitude. I want to impart that qualify of character in my students.
I believe that if you have a problem in your life it can be solved through your proper use of your knowledge and your art. When my daughter was discovered to be deaf I went to my art to seek ways to ease her problem. And that developed into a whole area of work for me.
I am going back to the very traditional form of teaching, which you may think will not go down well in Canada. Maybe it won't for the average student. But I want only a few genuine searchers. I am not interested in 50 students. I am interested in the handful who have discovered themselves; because in teaching them I know I will leave my guru's stamp.
So often my guru's words come back to me. He talked about discipline, practice and doing things to the best of your ability. I teach this to my students.
There's a lackadaisical attitude among kids today, even my own. I can't understand it. They feel, "We don't have to do our best ...we'll just get by ...the audience doesn't really know what we are doing anyway". These values carry over into other areas of one's life and pretty soon one becomes lackadaisical about everything.
When I was training I wanted to do my best in everything. Life for me wasn't for me a "dance part" that 1 did well and everything else I might or might not do well. You have to get personal satisfaction out of what you do. There may or may not be monetary satisfaction involved. But personal satisfaction can only come from doing your best.
A: You have started performing recently. What kinds of things are you doing?
SINGHA: For 12 years I researched Indian miniature paintings. I am using the imagery of these paintings in choreographing my dance concerts.
Some of the themes I use in my concerts are Christian and biblical. The Bible is really quite eastern in its thought. Classical Indian music and Hindu lyrics, however, are a problem. So I use commentary and slides to explain my dances.
At present I am choreographing for a dance concert on David and Goliath. For me Goliath is all of those things within us, giants of fear, ignorance, violence, poverty and sickness all merged into one. These giants in our lives are conquered by David. David's love of God and trust in God is the creative force in life that defeats fear.
A: How do you feel about communicating your dance to people who have no understanding of the Indian classical tradition?
SINGHA: I don't aim to have an audience of thousands of people at my concerts. I am happiest when I am dancing in front of a few people. Then I do communicate.
Most of my audience is Canadian. Only a few Indians come to watch me. Generally I have an audience of about 150 to 200 people. These are not your average concertgoers. The average concert-goer would say: "Oh! We saw her last year. We don't need to see her again."
But the faithfuls are curious to see the new things I do each year. They come because they like my dancing. That is all one can ask for.
A Minority Within A Minority
Midi Onodera; A Film Maker Talks About Her Art
by Jean Chong
Midi Onodera was born in Toronto in 1961. She graduated from the Ontario College of Art in 1983 where she concentrated on film, studying with such noted Canadian filmmakers as " Ross McLaren. Since 1979 she has completed over a dozen films, primarily in Super 8. One of her most recent films, Idiot's Delight (1983), a 16 mm. film on celibacy, was screened at the 1984 Festival of Festivals in Toronto. In addition to filmmaking, Midi is a serious writer and photographer, with pieces in local magazines like FUSE and Incite. She is currently employed as equipment manager at The Funnel, a non-profit, film production, distribution and exhibition centre for artists, located in downtown Toronto.
Jean Chong of The Asianadian interviewed Midi Onodera in Toronto in the summer of 1984.
ASIANADIAN: Could you tell us something about your background?
ONODERA: I was born in Toronto. I'm a third generation Japanese Canadian - a sansei. I went to the Ontario College of Art for four years. There I studied painting, sculpture, film, photography. In my last two years I concentrated mainly on film and photography.
A: Then is film your primary medium for self-expression right now?
ONODERA: Primarily film. But I do some writing and photographs. For example, I had a short article on the effects of the atomic bomb in a visual arts journal called Incite. And the most recent piece was a year ago in FUSE. It was on the internment of the Japanese Canadians. It was also published in English and Japanese in The New Canadian, a Japanese community newspaper.
A: What about your film Idiot's Delight which deals with the subject of celibacy?
ONODERA: I just found out that the Festival of Festivals is going to be showing it. It was a big shock when they called me about my application. I've been going to the Festival for years and always dreamed that maybe one day ....I wanted to make this film because celibacy is such a difficult subject and I didn't find people talking about it in a very positive light. I wanted to make a positive statement about it. People think of this film as a negative film because of the graveyard scenes, but I personally like gravestones. I'm not morbid or anything. I just find them peaceful. Death does not necessarily have to mean the end. It could be the continuation of the spirit or soul - or whatever you want to call it. It's like a higher plane.
A: So what would celibacy represent in this context-some idealized goal that transcends death?
ONODERA: I meant to compare my idea of death to celibacy, since celibacy can be seen as a taking of one's personal self, taking total control. It's very selfish, but also very positive if it's the result of choice and not external forces and circumstances. If it comes from within, then it's part of your spirit and that transcends physical contact, just as the soul transcends physical death.
A: Is this combination of text and photography a new interest you're developing?
ONODERA: It depends on what I have to say. If something comes across better in film, I'll do it in film. If it doesn't work in film, maybe it would be better in photographs and accompanying text.
A: What is it about film that attracts you?
ONODERA: I sort of grew up on old Hollywood movies I saw on television. I was really influenced by them. I like the idea of people sitting in an audience for a set period of time and concentrating on the same thing. I like that sense of control. It's the kind of control you could never get with a group of people viewing a painting.
A: Can you sense a maturation in the three films we've just seen when you view them together? (Ed. i.e. The Bird That Chirped On Bathurst Street (1981), Home Was Never Like This (1983), Idiot's Delight (1983)]
ONODERA: Definitely. Seeing these three films together does show a progression of ideas and technique. The first film we saw, The Bird That Chirped On Bathurst Street, is about changes and how changes aren't really recognizable as they're happening, but only afterwards. Because when you're involved in the change you're part of the process and you can't notice that it's happening. This film marked the first time I used the technique of optical printing, so it was actually shot originally in colour Super 8 and then blown up on this machine called the optical printer. That's how I got the dissolves and freeze frame effect. The second film is Home Was Never Like This. The home in this film is my parents' house where I grew up. And the soundtrack is the story of The Country Mouse and the City Mouse, one of my old childhood records. The film concerns my coming to grips with my childhood and how my parents tried to raise me. They were your average parents, always trying to protect you, trying to play it safe - the look both ways before you cross the street attitude. But playing it safe all the time doesn't get you anywhere. You almost become afraid of change, afraid of anything new out there. In this story the country mouse is very set in her ways and is freaked out by the cars and buildings in the big city. She won't take the risk of the vacuum cleaner or the dog. She'd rather play it safe at home in the country, in her quiet, predictable world.
A: Do you see yourself strictly as an artist or do you see yourself as a female, Japanese Canadian artist?
ONODERA: It's very interesting that I'm doing this interview at this particular time. I had my palm read recently at a Six Nations Indian Reserve pow-wow. Anyway, this very powerful man from a tribe in the States told me that I was torn between two sources two directions. I took this as meaning I'm torn between my Canadian upbringing and my Japanese roots because I've been thinking about my Japanese roots quite a bit lately.
A: Has Japanese culture influenced your work to any extent?
ONODERA: I think so. One of my friends, who is not Japanese, saw my films and wrote me this long letter about how they reminded him of haiku poetry. I can see that my films, when compared to any American films, have a different feeling, a distinctly different cinematography. They have a more meditative quality - a very Japanese quality. I didn't intend for that to happen. I didn't sit down and say "I'm going to make a Japanese film." Part of my sensibility is simply because of my Japanese background.
A: Do you think this will pose any kind of problem for you in filmmaking, since you might be labelled as a `Japanese Canadian filmmaker'? Would you feel constricted if you were always identified as a representative of a particular ethnic group?
ONODERA: Being an artist is already being part of a minority group. Society doesn't really regard artists as anything great. If anything, people say, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" I'm obviously in a minority because of my appearance and because I'm an artist.
A: The artist has an ambiguous role in society. She is seen by many people as one who provides entertainment, and perhaps by others as one who instructs - one who has a special message to convey. How do you view your role as an artist?
ONODERA: I don't think I'd go out and make Star Wars. If I really wanted to concentrate on film as entertainment Iand hopefully people will try to understand and question my work.
A: You work primarily in black and white. Is that for budgetary or artistic reasons?
ONODERA: When I was working in colour I realized that I was relying too much on colour, mistreating it. When you have a nice colourful set people won't always pay attention to what you're saying because they are too distracted by the beautiful colour. I wanted to get back to the basics of film -looking at grain, shadow and focusing on content and actual cinematography - the image within the frame.
A: How do your parents feel about your role as a filmmaker?
ONODERA: At first when I decided to go to the Ontario College of Art my parents announced that they were not going to pay for it. You see, I have three brothers. All of them went to the U. of T. and now have high paying jobs. But I told my parents that I didn't expect them to finance my art education. I'm putting myself through school because this is what I want to do! I couldn't understand why they were giving me this flack because my father used to be a photographer and he also did Japanese brush painting. However, now that I've finished and I'm out there making films, they're very supportive and proud of me.
A: What future plans do you have? What new projects do you have in mind?
ONODERA: I have this footage of an oriental fashion show in the sixties with all of these young women in mini skirts. I think I'm going to incorporate it into a film on racism and stereotyping. I've also got some KKK footage that I hope to use. It's not going to be a preachy film, but it's important for me at this time to deal with the subject. People have such stereotyped images of orientals. First of all, they don't differentiate between Japanese, Koreans, Chinese or whatever. They just look at us all and think chopsticks, rice, black hair. But the last time you saw me I had blond hair -and I have never been able to use chopsticks.
A: Right now it seems you're coming to a greater awareness of your Japanese identity.
ONODERA: I think it's about time that I did. A few months ago I felt too bombarded by the fact that I was Japanese Canadian. I felt that I was being pushed into it. But now I really want to explore my Japanese identity.
A: How did you view your Japaneseness when you were growing up here in Toronto?
ONODERA: I grew up in a practically all Jewish neighbourhood. It was very unusual. We were the only Japanese family in the neighbourhood. There may have been one black family, but basically it was all white and predominantly Jewish. For a long time I thought, hey, I want to be Jewish too. I thought I had a lot in common with Jewish people because of our experience in World War Two - that experience of being treated as non-human, non-people. Both my parents were in camps, but they have different views on the matter. My mother says that it really didn't harm them. But my father still feels very strongly about it. He protested at the time against the breaking up of the families. I think I have to side with my father. It was such an injustice. Now I have to become more aware of my roots and encompass my roots in my art ...l think I'll try to include something about the internment in my film about racism. The whole issue of the internment is politically very important to Japanese Canadians right now and it should be to all Canadians, as far as I'm concerned. It was a mistake. It happened, yet the government (Ed. i.e. Liberal) doesn't even want to apologize. I went to a couple of redress meetings recently and this Japanese Canadian man actually stood up and said, "Why are we bringing this up now?" I had heard that there were people like this, but I couldn't believe it. Oh my God, he's really saying this. Of course, he was yelled at. The emotions were very high.
A: Did you ever go through a period of trying to hide or minimize your Japaneseness?
ONODERA: Oh, sure. I tried to blend in: For a while when I was growing up I was very conscious of the fact that I was different. I felt uncomfortable about my Japaneseness. I just didn't want to have anything to do with being Japanese. I didn't have any Japanese friends who were close, so there was no problem of going downtown and being seen in public with another oriental person. Now I sort of wish that I had established that base. I wish that I had stayed in contact with the few Japanese Canadians I knew back then and established some friendships. I wonder sometimes if these people are also making an attempt to get in touch with their Japanese roots.
No Help from Anyone
The Trials of Women Garment Workers
Edited by Christine Almeida
Their lives are largely invisible to mainstream Canada. Marginalized, but not without hope and solidarity, they are the women of Canada's garment industry. Predominantly immigrants, and increasingly of Asian origin, these women are confronted by factors beyond their individual control: the descent of the Canadian garment industry within the changing international distribution of manufacturing industries; transcultural and patriarchal barriers to their full participation at work and in society; trade unions that, as yet, do not reflect the gender and cultural composition of the garment work force. These issues are elaborated upon in the following pages. Olivia Chow provides material on Toronto's garment industry. Tanya Dasgupta descrives factors perpetuating cultural and sexual discrimination. To conclude, Winnie Ng suggests how collective integrated action can empower immigrant workers to change the conditions that limit their participation.
A large part of Canada's garment industry is concentrated in downtown Toronto's Spadina district. It is Canadian manufacturing's third largest employer and its largest employer of women. Most of Spadina's 10,000 workers are immigrant women-Chinese, East Indian, Greek, Italian, Portuguese, Vietnamese. For some, wages are low and working conditions far from pleasant. Some work at noisy, stresful sewing and ironing machines. Some work at home. Otherwise, mainly in union shops, earn a modest wage, working at more comfortable machines installed to modernize production.
Recently, Canada's garment workers have been faced with the prospect of a declining clothing and textile industry. One of the reasons for this trend is the phasing out of import controls that have protected and strengthened the industry for nearly a hundred years. As protective policies decrease, imports are increasing and giving rise to maintain and develop Canadian manufacturing to meet the needs of Canadian workers and consumers.
In Spadina, the industry concentrates on clothing manufacture. There is a small amount of textile production that makes the raw material from which our clothes are fashioned, plus such items as draperies, blankets and upholstery fabrics. Only a very small percentage of the garment industry is now under direct foreign control. About 82.2% of its assets are under Canadian control.
Another reason for the shrinkage of our garment industry is the increasing relocation of industry in those parts of the world where labour is cheapest and where police-state governments suppress free labour unions and human rights. Most of the workers in these countries can't afford to buy the clothing they make, so their labour produces mainly goods for export. The chief beneficiaries of such migrant industries are transnational corporations, local wealthy eliges and banks. Ultimagely, such trade relations result in Canadian garment workers (many of whom are of Asian origin) and foreign workers (many in Asia) cutting each other's wages in order to retain the employment provided by manufacturing plants.
Then there is the use of new technologies. While increasing productivity and competitiveness, the introduction of new technologies can cost workers their jobs. Dan Heap, federal Member of Parliament for Spadina, suggests that new technology could serve persons rather than the reverse when he says: "This technology must have the capability of matching the needs of the Canadian market... Of equal importance, this new technology must not rob workers of all their skills, but must give their work more dignity. Workers must have a say in how the new technology will be used and productivity gains must be shared by the workers whose labour makes it possible, in the form of shorter hours, higher pay and better working conditions."
Among the most recent immigrant women to provide their labour to Canada's garment industry are women from Asia: women whose origins are Bangladeshi, Chinese, East Indian, Pakistani and Vietnamese, to name some. Responding to The Asianadian's enquiries about Sout Asian women in the garment industry, Tanya Dasgupta writes below on forces that prevent these women from full participation in shaping the processes that affect their lives.
Many South Asian women coming to Canada face this society as total strangers marked by their "strange" dress, customs and behaviour. They remain "outsiders", i.e., not belonging to the dominant culture in a predominantly white society. Wheather they work as factory labourers, as office workers or key punchers, they are under pressure to reject their own lifestyle. They soon find out that employers and co-workers accept them better if they abandon their customary dress (Sari or Shalwar-kameez) and adopt pants or western-style dresses. Only a few women in professional positions can continue to wear dresses of their own cultures.
Customs regarding dress can be readily compromised. However, what South Asian women often complain about as a source of great tension and stress is the prejudicial and sexist "chit-chat", especially during breaks. They generall prefer to be quiet and reserved. They have not been socialized to be vocal and agressive. This cultural difference seems to have generated a widespread belief that South Asians are arrogant, uncommunicative or grim.
Many South Asian women workers also face the barrier of not being fluent in English, a fact that hinders communication with other Canadians and restricts their access to such information as labour laws and rights ar work. Consequently, many South Asian women end up as assembly line workers, garment workers, helpers in ethnic restaurants and in a variety of other low-paid jobs which are marked by lack of security and hazards to health. It also seems that ESL (English as a Second Language) and skill-upgrading classes are inaccessible to many of these women because of the admission criteria (e.g. minimum level of proficiency in English), the expenses involved, and the lack of transportation and day care. Experiences of many women, however, reveal that South Asian women, with or without such upgrading, are forced to remain in the low status jobs with which they started.
Coming from semi-feudal patriarchal societies, South Asian women continue to experience male domination at home and exploitation at work. Transplanted into a highly industrialized society, they lack the informal support system of the extended family and friendship networks. In many instances women are completely isolated in their apartments, venturing out only to bring home wages. They exist only for the comfort of their families, no matter what hardships they may have to undergo, and if they dare to raise a voice against decadent patriarchy, they are often severely chastised.
South Asian women, perhaps like many other working class women, act primarily as housewives and mothers despite working full-time. After a full day of labour (or sometimes night shifts) they are invariably expected to cook, clean the house, wash dishes and send the children to school. Hence, they often work almost 20 hours a day. At home they provide free labour. In the job market they are, in a sense, a captive labour force, drawn on whenever the need arises.
Aware of the obstacles to full participation faced by immigrant women in the garment industry, Winnie Ng oves us from recognizing the problems to taking action for change. Her proposal below was presented at the Future of the Garment Industry Conference and the Workers and their Communities Conference, both held in Toronto in 1984. It offers an alternate model for organizing and building a stronger workers' movement in the garment industry.
The need for organizing immigrant garment workers stems from my experience in working with immigrant women, in particular, Asian women who are the newest arrival in the industry's labour force. This need applies to both unionized and non-unionized workers.
In reviewing the scenario of unionized women workers it was found that women comprise over 85% of the workforce and over 90% of them are immigrants, yet union leadership has failed to reflect this ethnic and gender composition. Certainly, immigrant women workers have more than their share of constraints militating against their coming ot to union meetings or running for executive positions in the union. But is it not the responsibility of unions to facilitate their participation by reducing some of the constraints, rather than using those constraints as their excuse to do nothing?
One example to illustrate this point is the lack of interpreters at union meetings. What is the point of sitting through a meeting if one doesn't understand what's going on? Eventually, the original enthusiasm felt by the women when they first sign their union cards fizzles out. The union becomes invisible and the past becomes history. The union continues to struggle in the name of the workers but not with the workers.
Another example is the issue of piece-work versus time rates. It is unfair for union management to say that the workers love the piece-work system, and thereby absolve itself of the need to negotiate for time rates, when, in fact, the women have never been offered any alternatie-or when the time rate is kept so low that one has to "become one's own boss" to make a decent living. The voice of immigrant women workers needs to be heard. The workers needs to be heard. They have to speak for themselves.
With non-unionized women workers, isolation and working conditions are even worse. Yet with the high unemployement rate in the manufacturing industries, a lot of husbands have been laid off. Thus many women are on the verge of breakdowns because they have to take on a triple-day role. A woman will work as a sewing machine operator from 8:30 am to 4:30 pm, then rush to a hotel to be a chambermaid or to an office building to do cleaning. She returns home at ten or eleven at night to do house work. For those women whose families rely on them to put food on the table, it will take a lot of consciousness-rising and education to get them to organize and break the isolation. At the same time, they also have to realize that, with the unavoidable high tech changes within the next ten years, a lot of their work could become obsolete. What will happen then?
The labour movement in the garment industry must become organized to ensure that technological innovations and international relocation of industries are not carried out at the expense of workers. The workers have got to realize that they are the union. Building a strong immigrant workers' movement doesn't imply that it will be seperated and segregated from the mainstream workers' movement. On the contrary, they will enhance each other's strength. The Garment Worker's Action Centre which I have proposed is meant to serve as a workers' education and resource centre-a stepping stone to organize the unorganized-to develop and empower immigrant women workers towards becoming involved in the larger workers' movement.
When we talk about the future of the garment industry, we are considering not only strategies for its survival, but also the improvement of working conditions and benefits. In order for the garment industry to be publicly recognized as a viable and permanent manufacturing enterprise, it must divest itself of the old image of a fly-by-night or sweat-shop operation. This change in image will be realized when there is a strong organized sector in the industry-when justice is done to improve the working conditions of these producers.
When we talk about an industry that provides jobs and livelihood for 15,000 workers and their families, itis not a token industry, and it should not be wiped out in exchange for high tech imports. Furthermore, with the gradual development of technological changes, government, labour and manufacturers have a responsibility to ensure that this process is not implemented at the expense of workers. There is a concommitant need for a better trained and more stable workforce.
The need for a strong organized workers' movement and a better trained workforce are the main essence and rationale for proposing a Garment Workers' Action Centre. This proposal envisions a building, right in the heart of Toronto's downtown garment industry, that will house all the services necessary to the workers, both employed and unemployed, in order to build a common front. The Centre will focus primarily on worker's education, the key to stronger worker participation.
Since the overwhelming majority of garment workers are immigrants from different cultural backgrounds, English as a Second Language (ESL) is essential for breaking down the communication barriers between workers. From our experience in teaching ESL in the workplace, we feel that locating classes in the workplace has its limitations. It only reaches a small sector of the workforce and attendance fluctuates because of seasonal lay-offs, overtime and the constant watchful eye of management. Thus an ESL for the Workplace Program at the Action Centre would ideally reach out to more workers, both organized and un-organized.
To better prepare workers to cope with the new tech changes, skills retraining and upgrading, as well as academic upgrading, will be offered to those who wish to attain the equivalent of a high school education. Courses in the academic program would be geared to the needs of working people as well as the unemployed and would deal with such subjects as Canadian labour history, geography, nutrition, literature drawn from novels about working class lives, mathematics and science courses. The labour education aspect of the program would be based on practical concerns of working people with an emphasis on how to organize the unorganized, the problems of racism and sexism, union counselling on legal rights of workers, and courses on the nature and operation of a union.
The Centre will also operate as some form of commercial co-operative, offering rental space for community agencies. Several agencies, each retaining its own autonomy under one roof, would provide: employment counselling, preventative health care, legal clinics, interpretive and information services, general counselling and other public services. Such an integrated services approach will greatly enhance the accessibility and delivery of services to workers.
The Centre will house a library and recreational facilities for workers. The publication of a newsletter in different languages owuld be a major contribution to workers' development. Further, workers would be involved in setting up clothing and food co-operatives as viable fund-raising ventures for the Centre.
Last, but not least, emergency day care services and regular day programs will be set up. They will offer the convenience and opportunities that promote women workers' participation in all programs of the Centre.
In essence, the main thrust of the Garment Worker's Action Centre is education-the key to empowering immigrant women workers. It is a vision that will truly create a worker's culture and sense of belonging to the labour movement. It is my dream that the Centre will serve as a model for other industries with high concentrations of immigrant workers, for example, hotel, food and assembly-line industries, to adapt and follow in the years to come. That'll be the day....
SACHIKO
by Kerri Sakamoto
The first thing he noticed about her was the simple blackness of her hair. Each strand was perfectly and uniquely straight. As he gazed at her hair it became a silvery black river that flowed endlessly, propelling him into perpetual motion. Later he would watch her hair spread out upon his pillow, a darkness more strange and intense that that of the night and he would feel that he could lie there forever, still, yet eternally rushing forward within that blackness. It was in the elevator of the building where he worked that he first saw her. He discovered that she worked in the small library located on the sixth floor. The next day he entered the library. Her desk was tucked away in a quiet corner far from the reading tables. He pretended to be looking for a book and was able to view her from between the shelves. Her head was bent over a book she was studying. The sight of her brought back to him the serene figure of a woman in a Japanese mural he had once seen in a gallery. The figure was enfolded in a kimono of dove grey with blushing pink flowers. Her face was drawn with tender yielding strokes of a brush. That was how he saw this girl in the library. He was continually intrigued by the uplifted outer corners of her eyes, the pale pearliness of her skin. An elderly man approached her desk. As she spoke, her slender arms formed the fragile branches of a symbolic Oriental flower arrangement evoking the positions of heaven and earth. And her hands gesturing with open palms blossomed forth such softness. They caressed air floating down through it in gentle harmony with gravity. In nodding her head, it was with an arc-like movement, never with a straight line, as if she were dulling the hard absoluteness of an emphatic yes or no. She led the man to some books on the shelf opposite to where he stood. When he heard her speak for the first time, it seemed to him that she had polished all the edges of the words which slipped out from between her lips until each phrase was a rippling undulation. The man thanked her and her smile, sweetly contained, was a perfect cadence. As she turned to go back to her desk, she discovered his observation of her and he felt suddenly very aware of himself, very awkward. He tried to smile but his lips hesitated and she turned her eyes to the ground walking carefully back to her desk.
He finally introduced himself. It was in the coffee shop on the third floor at lunchtime. She was sitting alone, her face partially eclipsed by the sandwich she was holding. He said hello and sat down opposit her, stumbling at the vision of her face so close to his. He feared his tumbling words sounding too glibly high-pitched. She said very little. He sensed her silent nervousness but she agreed to see him again.
Since then, whenever they had been out somewhere together and returned to his apartment, she would pause before the mirror that hung in the hallway. Then she would ask him to stand beside her. How do we look together, Daniel, she would ask him. Wonderful, he would answer, holding her close to hi,. Wonderfully right. And he would steer them both away from the reflection into the living-room. He disliked seeing himself there beside her. There he could hardly deny that the translucent see-through shadow was truly him. And she beside him. Her lustre. His eyes promised nothing beyond nor within, their colourness green the colour of a dead sea in which no life form could survive. A dull stagnant film floated across their surface. But her eyes, how precious they were to him, their slenderness calmly enclosed a round dararkness of unwavering potency. Every object that fell within her gaze was given mystical dimension. He loved to see himself reflected in her eyes. He could scarcely recognize the dark stranger there. The world reflected in her eyes was a beautiful one he longed for. It was a world of compelling darknesses brilliantly illuminated by a speck of momentary light flitting across her eyes. It was, like she herself, ultimately unattainable. He was afraid but exhilarated; he had the sensation of dangerously walking a charged highwire between the darkness and light.
As she lay in his arms, she peered up at him. Daniel, she asked him, do you like the way I look? He took her face in his hands. You are beautiful, he told her. The word seemed hollow, meaningless. But my face is so fat and my eyes are so small, she protested. Will you ever get tired of me, of the way I look? Her voice trembled. Never, he thought. He held her tighter. I will never tire of you, he told her. He needed her so much more than she needed him. She tilted her face up to him, smiling. Everything was so easy for her. There was so much of her, such enveloping resonance to her being. She had the power to bewitch, to haunt. He needed so badly to posess her, to have some assurance that he would never lose her. Strands of her hair fell over his eyes as he embraced her, the black mass becoming more diffuse. Would he ever be able to ather all of it, hold all of it in his hands. That night he made love to her frantically gasping after some fleeting posession.
He fell into an uneasy dream-filled sleep. He was in a garden which was unfamiliar to him. It was night. He stood at the base of some kind of tower. She was there at the window several storeys above. Her moonlit face appeared. Come, she said, gesturing with her hand. Cascading whirls of black suddenly slithered out of the window and down through the air. He grabbed hold of the ends of her hair and began to climb. He felt sure of his weight being supported for the strands had somehow melded together into a thick coarse twine that became softer in his hands as he neared the window. But the twine, her hair, it began to unravel, to spill all over him, twirling around his limbs, his arms, his nect as he tumbled backwards. He awoke, startled, sweating. Beside him she slept, hair quietly streaming across his pillow like a fan. He watched her breast rise and fall as she evenly breathed in the night air and expelled it in a serene sigh; the settling darkness was dispersed into millions of sparkling dots that danced about sprinkling colour all around them. He was enchanted.
In the morning when he awoke, she was not there beside him. He called her. He heard a sharp metallic clipping sound. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. She was standing there wearing one of his shirts with a pair of scissors in one hand. What are you doing? He asked with force that surprised himself. You mustn't do that. He watched as she snipped and bits of hair fell onto his shirt, slid into the rolled-up cuffs. She tried to brush them off but they clung, stark lines upon the faded flannel. Some fell onto the floor forming an abstract design on the white tiles. It was like reading tea leaves, he thought. If he studied the pattern long enough perhaps he would see how the jagged chafing edges of their existences could fit together into something recognizable. The scissors clattered on the counter as she set them down. There, she declared. Finished. She asked him if it was even and twirled around him. Yes, he said, smiling. He gathered her hair up in his hands holding the strands together as he would the stems of a glower bouquet. He raised their freshly cut edges to his face; they bristled against his cheek. The feel of each strand, coarse and cutting, made her seem at once more powerfully magical to him and more real, more of this world. It frightened and assured him.
They had been spending so much time alone together that they decided that they would attend a party to which an old friend had invited him. She was always asking about his friends, wanting to meet them. So they arranged to meet one another in the lobby after work. From there they would leave for the party. When he first saw her, he couldn't believe that it was her, though he recognized the coat and the shoes. This was why she couldn't meet him for lunch. What do you think, Daniel, she asked him smiling shyly. He felt a knot forming in his stomach as his eyes travelled the length of her now kinked hair that had taken on a brownish tint. The loveliness of her cleanly spaced lashes was now grotesquely cluttered by the impurity of eyeliner in an unnatural purplish shade. The line of uneven thickness seemed to imprison her eyes. Red stained her lips and cheeks. She continued to look at him questioningly. Tell me what you think.
They were greeted at the door by a woman he didn't know. She indicated a room in which to leave their coats and told them to help themselves to drinks in the kitchen. The women smiled and disappeared down a noisily congested hallway. The two of them took off their coats. He told her that he would get them both drinks but she insisted upon making her way to the kitchen herself. He watched after her as she pittered with tiny apologetic steps around and between bodies down the hallway. He smiled and thought to himself how much he loved her, how he would take her home tonight and wash her face and hair and how clean and fresh she would be to him once more. He felt better.
As he progressed down the hallway, he recognized two old friends from school. He stopped and talked at length with them before excusing himself. He was vaguely worried about her, wondering if she had made it to the kitchen after all or gotten lost in the crowd. The dimly lit living room was brimming with jumbled shadowy faces. The music bleated from speakers placed in either corner of the room. He scanned the crowd but couldn't see her. The kitchen was at the end of another narrow dark hallway into which harsh light bled. As he neared the kitchen, the light cut startlingly across the darkness to which his eyes were accustomed. He heard tinny laughter that reverberated against the hollow kitchen walls. The first thing he noticed when he stepped into the room was a pot sitting on top of the stove whose lid rattled with the bass beat of the music. Opposite the stove, she was sitting on a stool and a man, whose face was a blur, was leaning close against her. Two drinks were sitting in front of her, one of which was to be for him. She was giving all her attention to this man, this stranger, allowing him close to her, could she have forgoten him? Her eyes were glistening. Those eyes, he thought that he alone had penetrated to their deepest depths yet now he realized that he had merely been slipping and sliding on their perilous surface. She begqn to laugh uncontrollably at something the man said. Her hair looked wild, some of it fell over the side of her face and a bit of red lipstick smudged onto her front tooth. Befor his mind could restrain his body, it was done. The empty glass, the ice cubes in her lap. If he could barely recognize her before, there was now nothing left that was familiar. She was silent. But her look tore into him, he felt her rage ripping into him, wracking his body backward until he was plunging back from darkness into gradual blaring light. He felt her brush past him into the narrow hallway.
She was everywhere. He sat in the armchair in the middle of his bedroom. The faint moonlight that floated in through the window glimered against something on his pillow. It was a singular strand of her hair. It lay there thick, strong, resilient. He drew the curtains against the light and sat back down. This strict, unsubtle darkness was now a door that would never again open onto the other teeming world of dancing colours in the dark. Now he felt this terrible sensation of dangling in randomness.
He slept more soundly than he had in weeks because he didn't have to wonder whether shd would be beside him in the morning when he awoke. He knew that she was gone. He later learned that she no longer worked in the library. The emptiness from which he always fled stabbed deeper and deeper. As the weeks went by, the pain did not lessen in intensity but he began to feel strangely removed from it. He carried on with his work mechanically, training himself not to think about anything. In the mornings while shaving he noticed how his features quivered uncertainly across the pallor os his complexion. He often wondered if he could go on.