I agree with Karl Marx that class conflict is the engine of social change and historical development. You can find many examples that serve as a proof of Karl Marx’s theory, whether it was here in Qatar, or any other part of the world. In a democratic society where social mobility is possible, people in lower classes work hard to earn the best education to later get a great job and be part of the highbrow culture. Particularly in Qatar, people are in a constant struggle to improve their social class. They would do all it takes to “up-grade” their status. Some families would go as far as taking massive loans to purchase expensive cars that they obviously can’t afford. Here in Qatar, people indulge in conspicuous consumption, a sociology term that means that they purchase something in an attempt to display high status or class through the consumption of highbrow culture, luxury goods and services.
One cannot believe the lengths some people will go to just to show off their new house, car or even something as simple as their cell phone. How often do you see a person walking while holding his/her blackberry instead of keeping it in the bag or the purse? I’m guessing that you witnessed that a lot. Although the reasonable thing for a person is to keep his/her cell phone in the bag, these people will never quit showcasing their blackberry mobiles whenever they get the chance to! I have to mention that this sort of action does not show that you belong to the upper class or you’re filthy rich. No, this just screams to me that you’re a poor or a middle class person who probably used up most of your savings just to purchase this blackberry of yours, which clearly indicates that you’re not used to buying luxurious things because people who can afford luxurious do so with ease. People who belong in the upper class probably won’t struggle financially this month just because they purchased a simple phone that only costs something around or even less than 2400 QR. People who are filthy rich have more money than they could count. My advice to such people is as follows, people if you want to brag or showoff then at least do brag about something that says ”I’m rich” not something that screams “I’m dying to look rich”. Of course ideally, people shouldn’t brag, but at least it would be more understandable if a guy bragged about his new Bugatti or new villa that is located in Palm Jumeirah or something. Another example that shows the effects of conspicuous consumption is the sudden huge demand on the Mercedes-Benz G55 in the Gulf region, after the ruler of Dubai Sheik Mohammed bin Rashid appeared in a national event driving a G55. Many Emiratis and citizens of neighboring countries wanted to own a G55 to demonstrate to others that they don’t belong in the lowbrow culture because they can afford to buy a Sheik’s car.
I love 80’s movies. Everything about them is beautiful. Their stories are uncomplicated and contain ideas and situations that directors wish were true.
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, E.T and Say Anything are only some of the movies that portray the brilliance of much simpler times. These movies discussed issues that the average American faced. Movies about high school and the angst of being a teenager- social class, misunderstanding with parents and such- but in ways so different from the modern teen movie.
Pretty in Pink, a typical movie about love, high school and social stratification explores a modern day story. Pretty in pink seems be the most perfect example of social conflict. According
to Karl Marx, revolutionary sociologist, class conflict arises from the material things, such as: economic inequality, control over parliament, occupation, education and ownership. The tension between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat was always based on these elements. Pretty in pink portrays this tension successfully between a girl who has grown up in a family that isn't close to being rich, and a boy who has always had everything.
Andie Walsh, (played by the gorgeous ‘Brat Pack’ actress, Molly Ringwald) is a teenaged working-class girl who is obsessed with being rich. Living with her father in a house that she hates, she dreams about being rich. Living in big, fancy houses and wearing expensive clothes- things that she can never afford.
Defining her own style using second hand clothes because she can't afford to buy the expensive ones from the store.
At Andie’s high school, social structure is based on economic class, where the “richies” don’t socialize with those who aren’t as economically well to do. The popular girls make fun of Andie’s clothes, which are secondhand as opposed to their own clothes that are “in season."
As much as Andie hates the preppy kids at her school, she aspires to be like them. She works at a part-time store to earn money so she can design clothes- something that she loves doing. It is at that store, that she meets the boy of her dreams- Blane McDonough. Blane who is sweet, different and interesting also happens to be rich and even better, interested in her!
Meanwhile, her best friend, Duckie, refuses to talk to her because he feels betrayed that she would date someone from a different social group- the group that always mocks them. Andie decides that the loss is inevitable. Blane also faces judgment from his friends who think that Andie and her friends are of less value because of their lower economic standing.
The story follows how Blane and Andie try and overcome the hindrances of their relationship; break the barrier of economic class and learn how to their identity does not come from how much money they have. Truly beautiful.
Sociologists look at class and culture when they analyze society. Last week I began watching the show ‘Switched at Birth’. In my blog post, I will be discussing
the overall plot of the show to give you a better understanding of what is
going on. I will talk about how living and growing up in very different class cultures, created and
shaped the two main characters’ (Bay and Daphne) personalities and even
effected the two everyone around them. The show is set to portray the American culture and therefore
contrasts the lifestyles between the highbrow,
white, American family and the lowbrow,
working-class, Mexican single mother who is trying to make enough money to give
her daughter a normal life. The main idea is that the two girls were
accidentally switched at the hospital and therefore lived lives that were not
pre-destined for them.
The Mexican hairdresser raises Daphne, who is deaf.
Daphne becomes accustomed to living a simple life of a poor girl in a beat
down, not very safe neighborhood. She attends Carlton (a school for the deaf
and is used to an environment very different from that of the hearing schools).
Meanwhile, Bay is raised in the Kennish household. Her father is an ex baseball
player and she attends Buckner Hall – one of the most prestigious schools in
her area. Bay always feels like an outsider in her own home because she does
not look like any of her family members, her interests are ones that her mother
does not encourage, and her temper and sarcasm come from within her as opposed
to something she picked up from her parents.
One day she decides to ask her
parents for a DNA test to see if they are in fact related. The results come in
negative and they all find out about the switch. From there, everything changes
and Bay and Daphne and everyone involved needs to start adapting to their new
lifestyle and complicated situation. For example, Daphne is now part of a
hearing family and needs to keep up with reading lips because her parents have
no clue about signing. Moreover, Daphne’s biological family and Bay start
learning how to sign in order to make it easier to communicate with Daphne. You
can see how the two cultures of the hearing and the hearing impaired come
together and work towards better and easier communication through the use of language.
Born and raised in Qatar, I was socialized in an
Egyptian/Palestinian home but outside, it was a whole different culture. My
brothers and I attended private schools, which meant that we socialized with
people of many different cultures – including locals. Because of my social
experiences with my Qatari friends and classmates, I learned to speak Qatari
fluently and began communicating with my friends in their language, which made
it much easier for us to have better flowing conversations. We never really faced
language barriers. However, you can see how I was the one who had to change and
teach myself their language since I was the outsider living in their society,
learning their language and traditions and cultures. Moreover, living in Qatar had influenced me to the extent that I actually got myself a Abaya made since it 'grew on me' and I grew a certain appreciation for it.
After watching the Karate kid, I couldn’t help but think how amazing it would be if I were to learn Chinese martial arts. However, we need to look at this subject from another aspect: social deviance.
As soon as someone mentions Kung Fu or Wushu people immediately get the imagery of the famous Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan, but not Cynthia Rothrock or Michelle Yeoh. People probably don’t even know who they are. Rothrock and Yeoh are the female legends of Kung Fu, but why aren’t they given the same attention as Lee and Chan?
I believe that it is because martial arts are always considered masculine and more appropriate for men. Not many people would go see a Kung fu movie staring a woman who can beat up men and save the world.
When I was growing up, all of my four brothers went to Kung fu classes. While I was forced to take art lessons they were learning cool techniques and moves, and showing them off at home. Being the only girl amongst them, I felt left out and wanted to be a part of their group. When I asked my mother why wasn’t I allowed to take a martial arts class her answer was simple “because you are a girl, and you don’t need to.”
But let us think about it, women get verbally harassed, raped and murdered by men on a daily basis. If women are taught self-defense we would be able to restore some peace around here. Instead, we are encouraging men to learn martial arts and prohibiting women from learning self-defense. What kind of social norm is that?
When I told my mother that I am considering taking a Kung fu class now, she said that I need to find better things to do with my life. When I talked to a couple of my close friends they had the same attitude towards this idea. One of them even told me that I need to get over that as soon as possible, because apparently women who know how to physically defend themselves are considered social deviants.
On Thursday night my friend and I decided to watch Mrs. Doubtfire (1993), a movie we have watched far too many times as kids. The movie revolves around a loving father who is willing to do anything to spend time with his kids after the divorce, including dressing up like an old English woman and applying for the nanny position. Although my friend and I didn’t grow up together, watching the film made us realize we had some shared experiences as kids, including watching this film and memorizing every scene and line (my friend was constantly laughing before the scene ended because she knew what was going to happen.)
Nonetheless, watching the film again after so many years, and so many gender and film courses, it seemed completely different. As a start, the uncle is homosexual and has a partner who seems to be loved by the mother, which could possibly mean the relationship is serious and the mother is accepting of her son’s sexuality:
As a kid, that flew right over my head. All I could remember is that the uncle had an interesting voice and was a makeup artist. That’s of course because of the culture I grew up in, where homosexuality is a topic to avoid.
While that plot point seemed to be a clear positive comment on homosexuality, the Hillard family’s situation was more implicit. Daniel is too immature for the father role, and Miranda isn’t able to take it anymore. However, Daniel’s contribution in the family as Mrs. Doubtfire later on made it seem like they were the prefect family. Two women in the position of authority in the house helped the kids get better grades and finish their chores on time. It seems as if Daniel was only able to be an effective member of the family through his disguise as a woman.
One of the interesting shots was the medium shot of the Hillard family, while the father was disguised as Mrs. Doubtfire, standing by the pool:
Regardless of the plot, this image says a lot about a loving family. Yes it is possible to think that Mrs. Doubtfire is a grandmother rather than a partner, but the lack of the male figure in the image raises doubts. Possibly another comment on same-sex households?
It is interesting to see how a certain text can change meaning if consumed in two different times (almost 10 years apart.) As a kid it was funny watching Robin William’ character getting into accidents and changing voices, but now the film can be analyzed and interpreted differently, considering the the culture, the history, and the audience.
Its rustic-red metallic body gleamed in the summer sun, giving it the sheen of a glazed cherry. Behold, I thought to myself, the bus of Mumbai. Mumbai, by the way, is the financial capital of India and the country’s most populous city, with a total metropolitan area population of approximately 20.5 million. In terms of population statistics, Mumbai ranks fourth in the world. Well, that is what Wikipedia has to say about it.
To me, the city is all about hype, color, traffic, movement, flow, people, pollution. And Bollywood.
Anyway, back to the bus. The time I speak of is about four years ago, when my family had just left Muscat and we were back on apni zameen, our own homeland.
And I was, for the first in my life, all alone at a bus stop, waiting for a ride back home.
No, actually I was with a couple of friends. How else was I to understand the fancy numbers in Hindi that were no more meaningful to me than an assortment of lines and curves? These numbers told you which route the bus would follow. Until you are a headstrong adventurist, you do NOT want to get on a wrong bus.
I remember standing there and watching as the bus continued to slunk sulkily in the traffic. My thoughts went something like, God, this thing could put a snail to shame.
Finally, it was at the bus stop.
So what you had to do was continue to stay in the line and then get in the bus as your turn came.
Wait.
Line? Turn?
Whoa, let’s not forget this is Mumbai we are talking about. Here, there ARE NO LINES!
Each time, I remember how everyone would just clutter around the narrow opening of the bus, trying to clamber in as quickly as if there was a prize for the one who did this the fastest. So now I find myself in a flock of citizen- sheep, pulling and pushing as everyone tries to scramble in at once.
It is a miracle how I can even get in here, I would think each time, as the bus would begin to pull away.
An example of flow, that. Be it at a bus stop, or a railway station, you just stand in the crowd and flow with it. For all around you would be such a huge ocean of people, ki cheenti ke chalne ki bhi jagaah na ho. That not even an ant can pass through, my grandma would say. (She, by the way, has been an active Mumbaikar for about 50 (and counting) years now).
On my very first bus ride, I was awed. Later all sorts of adjectives—not very positive, I’m afraid—could be used to describe how I felt.
On that trip though, I must have looked like a bright bubbly girl of seven, thinking quietly to myself, Whoa, look at all these people!!! For there were all sorts of people around you, brushing against you. You spent three quarters of your journey standing, mostly sandwiched uncomfortably. That is the condition of Mumbai buses everyday early in the morning and then again late in the evening, when the populace is on its way to work, or returns from work. It’s remarkable just how the number swells. So, in the mornings, the bus is flooded with the mild scent of beauty soap and cologne. Come dusk, it is salty with the smell of sweat and exhaustion.
Well, the rickety mobile lumbered ahead. I stood where I was, dutifully, not so sure now that I was enjoying it. Just then, pushing his way through the mess of men, women and children, came the burly old conductor.
I know how this goes, I thought to myself. I just tell him where I need to go, give him the money and the guy punches me a ticket.
Right?
Wrong.
There are a thousand things that could go wrong, as I discovered on that fateful day.
“Airport Stop” I said.
“Huh?”
“Airport Stop.” I said a little more louder.
“Das Rupiyaa” he muttered gruffly.
Ten Rupees. Right. I had to give him the money and get the ticket.
So I wriggled a little until I had space enough to take off the bag hanging on my shoulder and hunt for the das rupiya.
It happened just then.
The bus suddenly braked to a halt.
Inertia played its part, and the next thing I know, I am thrown forward mercilessly.
It was like being in a free fall. I didn’t know when I would stop falling. I remember feeling the silk of someone’s saree, the coarseness of someone’s jeans, as I fell through all those people, unable to brake, unable to stop.
Honestly, I cannot think of another time I must have felt that hot around the neck. I knew I had gone red as a beet.
The bus, meanwhile, continued forward.
I hauled myself up, flustered but unhurt. I could feel eyes looking at me.
“Uh, I’m okay” I wanted to say but I’m glad I didn’t. Because then I would have looked like a complete moron. On a busy day in a crowded Mumbai bus, people have neither the time nor the inclination to care.
That was the good news (though I dare say, I did catch a few giggles).
The better news was that I had learnt “my goddamn lesson,” as I told my amused mother at dinner that day, “Always, always hold on the handrails of a bus when you stand.” *
Analyzing this form a social perspective, it is evident that there are several factors at play, influencing the way people behave and interact. Consider, for one, the question of inequality. In a city with a teeming population and relatively scarce resources, there is a wide economic disparity and uneven resource allocation. This leads to inevitable inter- societal competition for limited reserves. Middle and lower middle class Mumbaikars, for example, are heavily dependent on buses and rickshaws as their primary mode of transport, since these are highly cost effective. But the available transport facilities cannot satiate the ever-increasing demand of the booming population. This leads to a rat-race where everyone tries to utilize the existing capital to the maximum. But in case of the bus, an innumerable number of users are pitted against a limited number of seats, causing unavoidable friction. According to latest statistics, Mumbai public transport carries about 5.5 million people per day. Mumbaikars today have become rather indifferent to the pitiable quality of local buses, their low frequency and poor maintenance. They are habituated to the unending traffic jams; to the indescribably large crowd packed inside. They are unconcerned about how painful and exhausting it can be to travel back and forth in a suffocating human mess.
What matters to them most is that the bus can carry them over long distances for only das rupiyaa. Ten Rupees.
At first, I found it really difficult to digest the hustle- bustle of the metropolitan city. But the interactions I had largely helped define perceptions of my own looking- glass self. This concept was very well explained by Sociology Professor Geoff Harkness as: “Our identity is based on what we think of ourselves and what we think of what others think of ourselves.” This socio- psychological concept of how one perceives oneself has largely to do with his/her level of integration with a society. In my case, Mumbai initially made me conclude that I was naïve and inexperienced; that I was an alien trying hard to fit in an entirely different culture (which ironically, was my own).
Propounding on the concept of identity definition, it is fascinating to note that one’s identity continuously keeps changing, with respect to society, people etc. “ Not the whole of our identity,” said Professor Harkness, “but certainly, a part of it.” In other words, there is always an element of our identity that chameleons other people’s attitudes and behaviors. Every new experience adds to our knowledge base, influencing our identity inconspicuously.
