Things This Blog Doesn't Cover (But Wishes It Could)

So I was saying to Adrienne Kress the other day while hanging around the autograph table at SFContario, that there have been three separate incidents throughout this year, at three separate cons (that'd be Nova Albion, CNSE, and SteamCon), that have something in common: at each con, someone has asked me, if I knew anything about Jewish steampunk. 

My first reaction is always an awkward, "well, um." The first time, I spouted Ted Chiang's story in the first Vandermeer Steampunk anthology. The second time, I listened to a woman tell me about the difficulty of researching Yiddishness, particularly from Eastern Europe where her family is from. The third time, was during a SATW presentation and all I could say was, "there is some."

I write a lot about literature and analysing it, as well as analysing practices in the steampunk subculture, mostly focusing on the rhetoric people spout in defense of racist practices like cultural appropriation. I write about tropes and common ideas that are harmful. 

I think a lot about decolonizing the mind, which tends to be a deeply personal thing for me. It's tied to my history as a Malaysian, in which I have to question what it means to be a product of colonialism. I have to ask myself what is racist about my upbringing and what I was surrounded with and how to combat that in a productive manner that promotes dialog between the races living in my country. I have to criticize the people I was brought up to respect and obey. I think about the colonization of my people and how it has continued, even after we were "independent." Because, make no mistake, our independence is relatively modern, and although the economic neocolonialism of our wealth and resources come from other sources beyond the traditional British, the reasons why my people often uncritically and unwittingly embrace these memes that deprecate and demean us, that tell us that we are lesser (because we are not rich enough, according to white standards, because we are not pretty enough, according to white standards, because we are not cultured or civilized enough, according to white standards) are rooted in hundred of years of a foreign presence that persisted in maintaining a military and a culture war against us as national, political, tribal and ethnic entities.

But there are other stories to talk about, too.

I do not, for example, talk specifically about black Americans/Canadians and American indigenous peoples very much. I read about them a great deal on Tumblr, and I always have to cringe at the anti-black racism that comes from Asians in such conversations, just as I cringe from the continued erasure from white people that black people face. I could not list the hundreds of tribes, either.

 I do not write about the Roma who still face persecution in much of Europe (and their exoticization here in North America). Thank you, Colette, for reminding me of this. Just like how I do not know much about the Jewish Diaspora (from which we get diaspora studies from, as well as trauma theory) I don't know much about the Roma diaspora either.

I do not write about other specific regions of Asia, such as Laos, much less our own indigenous peoples in Asia. Thanks, Bryan, for taking up that particular region, and also to people like Mia, who write consistently about the Philippines' history with colonization and how that colonization has affected the people today. 

In the middle of writing this post, I reblogged a post on Tumblr about the women of Jeju Island, a very generic post, which was then reblogged with a great deal of history and the current conditions that the island faces today. I am guilty of the charges in the post, of reblogging uncritically and buying into the exoticized and romanticized images of the Jeju women. I am guilty of that ignorance. Which is why the extra commentary is so important, because it is important to acknowledge that ignorance and share the knowledge that I, and so many others, have been freely given. 

In a world where privileged people demand answers and knowledge from the oppressed, defensively crying "well how was I supposed to know?" and becoming impatient when the knowledge is not delivered in a kind, maternal tone that soothes their soul and assuages their desire to be a Good Person, it is important to step back and take stock of that which we do not know. It is important to be able to acknowledge that this lack of knowledge is dangerous to people less fortunate than we. It is important to accept the fear that our ignorance will harm others is an important part of the process of teaching ourselves to seek knowledge. 

Let me admit straight up that this blog, whenever it is my own thoughts, is mostly theoretical. What else do I do here, besides ask questions? What else do I do here, besides ask you, my audience, to ask questions? How else do I square my knowledge against that which I do not know? 

Knowledge in which it is not just theory, but lived experience, is no longer just my purview alone, but a shared knowledge among other people that I am simply communicating to you. How do I then turn this knowledge (new to me, not to others) towards productive uses? What does it mean to use the knowledge productively?

This is not to downplay this blog. I appreciate every one of you who have decided to follow me, every one of you who have added me to your RSS feeds, everyone of you who have recommended this blog to other people, and every one of you who just keep reading, even through this blog's long silences. I appreciate the emails I receive (just as I regret the emails I don't find time nor words for a response).

I have spent the last two years thinking through issues of colonialism. There's a lot I have thought about, which simply doesn't make it to this blog, because, it always feels repetitive, since other people have said it much better, or because, it feels lacking, because there're better ways of saying the same thing. 

It is one of those things I need to stop myself from worrying about. Just as I have to stop worrying about reaching the widest audience and hurting white people's feelings. (It's not that I don't love ya'll. It's just that I don't exactly owe ya'll the effort.)

But there are things I do spend time worrying about, which I don't regret worrying about: does my work do justice to the stories I am unaware of? Is there a way I can tie my understanding of the world to these stories I am less aware of, that my language will always reflect an awareness of them, even if it doesn't center them? Are there people I should be listening to who center these stories as parts of their lived experiences?

It's important to ask these questions while doing work in steampunk (and anti-racist work in general). I still can't decide whether it's because it's the backward-looking aspect of steampunk that makes it possible to ask these questions, or because these questions are important when doing steampunk. It could be both. But if you can acknowledge that you look backwards in steampunk for inspiration, then it is entirely possible to look in other directions, too.

There are lots of things I wish I could talk about, but can't. And I could also talk myself blue about my subject position and whatnot, but that would still only be a sliver of the big picture, a tiny piece of the many conversations happening at the same time.

Therefore, here is an open invitation to you, to talk to me about what you wish you could talk about, the questions you're looking for answers to, the histories you are looking for or trying to preserve.