• Sur l’excellent fil Twitter de l’assyriologiste Moudhy Al-Rashid, je découvre cet article sur le lavage du linge à Babylone :


    En cunéiforme, sur une tablette d’argile, un contrat « (1) For the agreed period, Ina-tTesî-Ttir, the washerman, son of Iddinå of the Hulamosu family, will clean and whiten the ‘whites’ of the house of Nabû-sumu-ukon, son of Nådin of the Ibnåja family. »


    #assyriologie #lessive

  • Roland Barthes lave plus blanc

    « (…) Quel meilleur terrain que celui de la publicité, espace de la
    prolifération de signes supposés insignifiants, pour accomplir ce
    programme ? Comme après lui Daniel Boorstin, Guy Debord ou Jean
    Baudrillard, Barthes voit la culture de masse comme une production de simulacres destinés à tromper un public crédule. Le territoire de la
    propreté lui permet d’opposer la lessive Persil, qui revendique un
    blanc superlatif, vérifié par des comparaisons qui ont tout l’air de
    faux-semblants, au mousseux aérien d’Omo : « L’important, c’est d’avoir su masquer la fonction abrasive du détergent sous l’image délicieuse d’une substance à la fois profonde et aérienne qui peut régir l’ordre moléculaire du tissu sans l’attaquer. » Pourtant, « Persil et Omo, c’est tout comme », conclut le sémiologue, qui note que ces deux marques appartiennent au même trust : Unilever.


    Avant l’arrivée de nouveaux concurrents, à partir de 1956, le paysage
    décrit par Roland Barthes est celui de l’affrontement de deux marques et de deux produits à la composition et aux qualités différenciées, que la publicité met en récit. Dans le contexte d’une revue littéraire, il est certes tout à fait remarquable qu’un chercheur en sciences sociales se préoccupe des représentations publicitaires de produits ménagers. Mais Barthes ne fait pas lui-même sa lessive, et en l’absence d’une expérience pratique de ces détergents, il est
    difficile de s’apercevoir que les slogans caractérisent bel et bien
    des propriétés effectives.

    Le blanchiment de Persil ou la mousse d’Omo ne sont pas que des
    métaphores destinées à abuser un public naïf. De façon générale, c’est l’ensemble du rapport à la consommation et aux industries culturelles – et donc bien souvent à un univers assigné aux femmes ou aux classes inférieures, qui subira pendant longtemps la même approche condescendante et réductrice de la part des observateurs spécialisés.

    Pourtant, proposer la sémiologie d’une pratique dont on n’a pas
    l’expérience, c’est un peu comme tenter de décrypter une langue dont on n’a pas l’usage. On risque de ne voir que le jeu gratuit des
    signes, là où il y a aussi des faits sociaux. »


  • Watching the clothes dry: How life in Greece’s refugee camps is changing family roles and expectations

    On the Greek Islands where refugees face long waiting times and a lack of adequate facilities, women are being pushed to the margins of camp society as children are deprived of education and safe places to play. While governments and the EU fail to provide satisfactory support, and NGOs fight to fill the gaps, how can we stop a generation of women and girls with high hopes of independence and careers from being forced back into domestic roles?

    “The days here are as long as a year.

    “In the camp I have to wash my clothes and dishes with cold water in the cold winter, and I have to watch my clothes dry because I lost almost all of my dresses and clothes after hanging them up.

    “As a woman I have to do these jobs – I mean because I am supposed to do them.”

    The boredom and hopelessness that Mariam* describes are, by now, common threads running through the messy, tragic tapestry of stories from the so called “migrant crisis” in Greece.

    Mariam is from Afghanistan, and had been studying business at university in Kabul, before increasing violence and threats from the Taliban meant that she was forced to flee the country with her husband. Soon after I met her, I began to notice that life in camp was throwing two distinct concepts of herself into conflict: one, as a young woman, ambitious to study and start a career, and the other, as a female asylum seeker in a camp with appallingly few facilities, and little freedom.

    While Mariam felt driven to continue her studies and love of reading, she could not escape the daily domestic chores in camp, a burden placed particularly on her because of her gender. I was familiar with Mariam the student: while managing the Alpha Centre, an activity centre run by Samos Volunteers, I would often come across Mariam sitting in a quiet spot, her head bent over a book for hours, or sitting diligently in language classes.

    The other side of her was one I rarely saw, but it was a life which dominated Mariam’s camp existence: hours and hours of her days spent cooking, cleaning, mending clothes, queuing for food, washing dishes, washing clothes, watching them dry.
    Women as caregivers

    Mariam’s experience of boredom and hardship in the camp on Samos is, unfortunately, not uncommon for any person living in the overcrowded and squalid facilities on the Greek islands.

    Many, many reports have been made, by newspapers, by Human Rights organisations such as Amnesty International, and NGOs such as Medécins Sans Frontières (MSF). All of them speak, to varying degrees, of the crushing boredom and despair faced by asylum-seekers in Greece, the dreadful conditions and lack of resources, and the mental health implications of living in such a situation. MSF describes the suffering on the Aegean islands as being on an “overwhelming scale.”

    While these issues apply indiscriminately to anyone enduring life in the island camps – and this undoubtedly includes men – there have been reports highlighting the particular hardships that women such as Mariam have to face while seeking asylum in Greece. In a 2018 report, “Uprooted women in Greece speak out,” Amnesty International comments on the additional pressures many women face in camp:

    The lack of facilities and the poor conditions in camps place a particularly heavy burden on women who often shoulder the majority of care responsibilities for children and other relatives. The psychological impact of prolonged stays in camps is profound. Women spoke of their anxiety, nightmares, lack of sleep and depression.

    The article recognises how much more likely women are than men to take on a caregiving role, an issue that is not unique to asylum-seeking populations. According to a report titled ‘Women’s Work’ released in 2016 by the Overseas Development Institute, women globally do on average over three times more unpaid work than men – work including childcare and domestic chores. This is across both ‘developed’ and ‘developing’ countries, and demonstrates inequality on a scale far beyond refugee and migrant populations.

    However, as Amnesty points out, it is not the perceived roles themselves which are the issue, but rather the glaring lack of facilities in camps – such as lack of food, ‘horrific’ sanitary conditions, and poor or non-existent washing facilities, as well as significant lack of access to education for children, and waiting times of up to two years. All of these factors exacerbate the gender divides which may or may not have been prevalent in the first place.

    The expectation for women to be primary caregivers was something I particularly noticed when running women’s activities on Samos. There was a stark difference between the daily classes – which would fill up with men attending alone, as agents distinct from their families in camp – and the women-only sessions, where accompanying children were almost always expected, and had to be considered in every session plan.

    The particular burden that I noticed so starkly in Mariam and many other women, was a constant battle to not be pushed to the margins of a society, which she desperately wanted to participate in, but had no opportunity to do so.

    Beyond lack of opportunities, many women speak of their great fear for themselves and their children in camp. Not only does a lack of facilities make life harder for people on the move, it also makes it incredibly dangerous in many ways, putting the most vulnerable at a severe disadvantage. This issue is particularly grave on Samos, where the camp only has one official doctor, one toilet per 70 people, and a gross lack of women-only bathrooms. This, alongside a volatile and violent environment – which is particularly dangerous at night – culminates in a widespread, and well-founded fear of violence.

    In an interview with Humans of Samos, Sawsan, a young woman from Syria, tells of the agonising kidney stones she experienced but was unable to treat, for fear of going to the toilet at night. “The doctor told me you need to drink a lot of water, but I can’t drink a lot of water, I am afraid to go outside in the night, is very dangerous,” she explained to my colleague.

    As Amnesty International reported last year, “women’s rights are being violated on a daily basis” in the Greek island hotspots. Their report features a list of ten demands from refugee women in Greece, including “full access to services,” “safe female only spaces,” and “livelihood opportunities.” All of these demands not only demonstrate a clear lack of such services currently, but also a real need and desire for the means to change their lives, as expressed by the women themselves.

    I remember the effect of this environment on Mariam, and the intense frustration she expressed at being forced to live an existence that she had not chosen. I have a vivid memory of sitting with her on a quiet afternoon in the centre: she was showing me photos on her phone of her and her friends at university in in Kabul. The photos were relatively recent but seemed another world away. I remember her looking up from the phone and telling me wearily, “life is so unexpected.”

    I remember her showing me the calluses on her hands, earned by washing her and her husband’s clothes in cold water; her gesturing in exasperation towards the camp beyond the walls of the centre. She never thought she’d be in this position, she told me, performing never ending domestic chores, while waiting out her days for an unknown life.

    Stolen childhoods

    Beyond speaking of their own difficulties, many people I approached told me of their intense concern for the children living in camps across Greece. As Mariam put it, “this situation snatches their childhoods by taking away their actual right to be children” – in many inhumane and degrading ways. And, as highlighted above, when children are affected, women are then far more likely to be impacted as a result, creating a calamitous domino effect among the most vulnerable.

    I also spoke to Abdul* from Iraq who said:

    The camp is a terrible place for children because they are used to going out playing, visiting their friends and relatives in the neighbourhood, and going to school but in the camp there is nothing. They can’t even play, and the environment is horrible.”

    Many asylum-seeking children do not have access to education in Greece. This is despite the government recognising the right of all children to access education, regardless of their status in a country, and even if they lack paperwork.

    UNHCR recently described educational opportunities for the 3,050 5-17 year olds living on Greece’s islands, as “slim.” They estimate that “most have missed between one and four years of school as a result of war and forced displacement” – and they continue to miss out as a result of life on the islands.

    There are several reasons why so many children are out of school, but Greek and EU policies are largely to blame. Based mistakenly on the grounds that people will only reside on the islands for brief periods before either being returned to Turkey or transferred to the mainland, the policies do not prioritise education. The reality of the situation is that many children end up waiting for months in the island camps before being moved, and during this time, have no access to formal education, subsequently losing their rights to play, learn, develop and integrate in a new society.

    In place of formal schooling, many children in camps rely on informal education and psychosocial activities provided by NGOs and grassroots organisations. While generally doing a commendable job in filling the numerous gaps, these provisions can sometimes be sporadic, and can depend on funding as well as groups being given access to camps and shelters.

    And while small organisations try their best to plug gaps in a faulty system, there will always, unfortunately, be children left behind. The ultimate result of Greek and EU policy is that the majority of children are spending months in limbo without education, waiting out their days in an unsafe and unstable environment.

    This not only deprives children of formative months, and sometimes years, of education and development, it can also put them at risk of exploitation and abuse. Reports by the RSA and Save the Children state that refugee children are at much higher risk of exploitation when they are out of school. Save the Children highlight that, particularly for Syrian refugee girls, “a lack of access to education is contributing to sexual exploitation, harassment, domestic violence and a significant rise in forced marriages”.

    There have also been numerous cases of children – often unaccompanied teenage boys – being forced into “survival sex,” selling sex to older, predatory men, for as little as €15 or even less, just in order to get by. The issue has been particularly prevalent in Greece’s major cities, Athens and Thessaloniki.

    While all children suffer in this situation, unaccompanied minors are especially at risk. The state has particular responsibilities to provide for unaccompanied and separated children under international guidelines, yet children in Greece, especially on Samos, are being failed. The failings are across the board, through lack of education, lack of psychological support, lack of appropriate guardians, and lack of adequate housing – many children are often placed in camps rather than in external shelters.

    This is a particular issue on Samos, as the designated area for unaccompanied minors in the reception centre, was not guarded at all until recently, and is regularly subject to chaos and violence from other camp residents, visitors or even police.

    Many refugee children in Greece are also at risk of violence not only as a result of state inactions, but at the hands of the state itself. Children are often subject to violent – and illegal – pushbacks at Greece’s border with Turkey.

    There have been multiple accounts of police beating migrants and confiscating belongings at the Evros river border, with one woman reporting that Greek authorities “took away her two young children’s shoes” in order to deter them from continuing their journey.

    The Council of Europe’s Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CPT) spoke out earlier this year, criticising treatment in Greek camps and detention facilities, stating that conditions were “inhuman and degrading.” They have called for an end to the detention of children with adults in police facilities, as well as the housing of unaccompanied minors in reception and identification centres, such as the hotspot on Samos.

    Smaller organisations are also making their voices heard: Still I Rise, a young NGO on Samos providing education for refugee children, has just filed a lawsuit against the camp management at the refugee hotspot, for their ill treatment of unaccompanied minors. The organisation states:

    We are in a unique position to witness the inhumane living conditions and experiences of our students in the refugee hotspot. With the support of Help Refugees, we gathered evidence, wrote affidavits, and build a class action on behalf of all the unaccompanied minors past and present who suffered abuse in the camp.

    After witnessing the many failings of the camp management to protect the unaccompanied minors, the NGO decided to take matters into their own hands, raising up the voices of their students, students whose childhoods have been stolen from them as they flee war and persecution.
    “Without love I would give up”

    Every day on Samos, I worked with people who were battling the ever-consuming crush of hardship and boredom. People came to the activity centre to overcome it, through learning languages, reading, socialising, exercising, teaching and volunteering. They demonstrated amazing commitment and perseverance, and this should not be forgotten in the face of everything discussed so far.

    Nadine*, a young woman from Cameroon whose help at the centre became invaluable, told me that she ‘always’ feels bored, and that “the worst is a closed camp,” but that she has managed to survive by teaching:

    I teach the alphabet and sounds, letters for them to be able to read. I teach adult beginners, it’s not easy because some of them didn’t go to school and they are not able to write in their own language. So it’s hard work, patience and love because without love I would give up.”

    The perseverance demonstrated by Nadine, Mariam, and other women like them, is extraordinary. This is not only considering the challenges they had to confront before even reaching Greece, but in the face of such adversity once reaching the EU.

    Those refugees who are most vulnerable – particularly women and children, but also the silent voices of this article, those who are disabled, LGBTQ+ or otherwise a minority – are being pushed to the margins of society by the despicable policies and practices being inflicted on migrants in Greece. Refugees and migrants are being forced to endure immense suffering simply for asking for a place of safety.

    Yet despite everything, even those at the most disadvantage are continuing to fight for their right to a future. And while I know that, especially in this climate, we need more than love alone, I hang onto Nadine’s words all the same: “without love I would give up.”

    #femmes #asile #migrations #réfugiés #rôles #Samos #Grèce #attente #tâches_domestique #lessive #marges #marginalisation #ennui #désespoir #détressse #déqualification #camps #camps_de_réfugiés #liberté #genre #cuisine #soins #caregiver #santé_mentale #fardeau


  • En Grèce, dans une usine autogérée, le travail devient un « lieu de solidarité et de liberté »

    Au mur du petit bureau, Dimitris pointe une photo jaunie d’Alexis Tsipras, premier ministre depuis 2015, et qui vient d’être battu aux élections législatives du 7 juillet. Le patron de Syriza avait visité l’usine lors de sa campagne électorale en 2014. « Il nous a promis de légaliser notre statut. Il nous a assuré qu’on était des travailleurs modèles, sur qui ils s’appuieraient pour leur projet économique. Cinq ans plus tard, rien n’a changé. »

    Après huit ans de lutte, les ouvriers de Vio Me sont toujours dans l’illégalité. En 2014, ils ont créé une société coopérative qui s’est dotée d’un compte en banque. Mais elle n’est ni propriétaire ni locataire des actifs. « Sur le papier, on est toujours considérés comme les employés d’une entreprise en faillite. Depuis six ans, notre travail n’est pas reconnu », peste Makis.

    « On voudrait exporter vers l’Amérique Latine, mais c’est impossible sans cadre légal. L’absence de statut freine notre développement. »

    #Zanon #savons #lessives #écologie#BTP #crise #huile_d_olive #organisation_collective #espace_social #distribution_militante #réseau #solidarité #assemblées #centres_sociaux #coopératives #faillite #illégalité #société_coopérative #statut #projet_économique #Syriza #Tsipras #production #autogestion #coopératives_ouvrières #structures_autogérées #Grèce #mouvement_des_places #réappropriation_industrielle #Vio Me #usine #lutte


  • « Pôle emploi, c’est vraiment devenu une machine de guerre » - Basta !

    la dématérialisation, qui contraint les demandeurs d’emploi à s’inscrire par internet depuis début 2016, résume la politique globale de l’établissement : une mise à distance sans cesse renforcée des usagers, et plus particulièrement des plus vulnérables.

    « Comment font les gens qui n’ont pas d’Iphone ou de tablette ? Ou qui ne sont tout simplement pas à l’aise avec les nouvelles technologies ? C’est vite vu, ils ne s’inscrivent pas. » « On taille l’offre sur mesure pour les plus employables, et les autres, on les laisse sur le bord du chemin, voire on les pousse dans le fossé, enfonce Claude [1]. Pôle emploi, c’est vraiment devenu une machine de guerre. »

    #chômage #tri_sélectif

  • « La publicité Dove n’est en rien raciste »

    La marque, consciente du bouche-à-oreille négatif que sa campagne de promotion a provoqué, s’est excusée et l’a retirée. Un peu vite pour notre chroniqueur Hamidou Anne.

    Sur les réseaux sociaux, véritable foire aux curiosités, le travail d’amplification de l’humiliation dont se serait rendu coupable Dove se fait à un rythme effréné. Des internautes – dont certains qui se blanchissent de façon ostentatoire la peau – s’indignent, insultent, menacent et appellent à la riposte, oubliant qu’il serait peut-être normal de savoir – parfois avant – de quoi on parle.

    Lire aussi : « La nouvelle génération d’opposants africains doit assumer son rôle d’alternative aux pouvoirs »

    Au contraire, des gazouilleurs compulsifs cherchent par n’importe quel moyen à prouver que tous les Blancs sont racistes – convoquant successivement le franc CFA, le complot issu du Quai d’Orsay, la destruction de la Libye ou l’assassinat de je ne sais quel grand leader tiers-mondiste. Ces entrepreneurs identitaires sont souvent rejoints dans leur complainte par des Occidentaux « amoureux de l’Afrique », avec tout le côté paternaliste et touchant de ridicule de leur posture.

    Tout ceci nous donne une leçon sur la destruction que peut engendrer une manipulation. C’est terrifiant. Et ça l’est davantage quand on sait que l’avenir du débat public sera partagé entre fausses nouvelles, photomontages grossiers et post-vérités. Bienvenue au XXIe siècle !

    En savoir plus sur http://www.lemonde.fr/afrique/article/2017/10/13/la-publicite-dove-n-est-en-rien-raciste_5200785_3212.html#gSDkHkHG0uWLzgTu.9


    Dove est une marque du groupe Unilever, gros client du e-monde.fr qui met en avant cette image :

    et oublie de mentionné celle ci :

    #colorisme #racisme #blancheur #aphroditisme #beauté #cosmétique #blanchiment #publicité

  • #Kpop is back – Madjid Ben Chikh, Tokyo | Le Blog de Suppaiku

    La « #musique sérieuse » est une musique d’#élite, une musique élaborée pour ceux qui ont de l’argent, du temps et ce prestige particulier des « gens qui savent », « le monde », comme on disait autrefois. Le spectre des « musiques sérieuses » s’est étonnamment élargie dans la seconde moitié du 20ème siècle, chaque génération apportant à un courant musical du moment sa touche élaborée. Le jazz, par exemple, musique éminemment populaire dans les années 20-30, tout droit sortie des quartiers de relégation raciale des USA, est ainsi devenue la crème de la musique blanche intellectuelle, de celle qu’on écoute après avoir été raconter sa vie à son psy. Aujourd’hui, il y a du rock sérieux, de la house sérieuse qu’on peut écouter après 40 ans en fond sonore à la maison en plaignant les jeunes qui n’ont vraiment pas de chance c’était tellement mieux avant…


    On vit une époque morne à crever, je ne vois pas pourquoi je me priverai de ça. C’est de la #culture de maintenant, je suis parfaitement conscient que c’est de la #lessive de maison de disque, mais je ne vois pas pourquoi je m’en priverais, c’est notre époque, et cela vient de la neuvième puissance économique mondiale, de là où on fabrique vos téléphones, vos télévisions, votre machine à laver et peut-être même aussi votre voiture. Je ne comprends pas bien, de toute façon, ce dédain pour la musique populaire.

    Et quand je vois le niveau des daubes que la bande FM française vous inflige, j’avoue, je ne vois pas d’autre explication qu’une bonne dose d’ignorance crasse pour ne pas vous mettre à la KPop, ni même à la "pop libanaise (le Liban, c’est un peu le UK du monde arabe, en musique). Et peut être même une bonne petite dose d’eurocentrisme, ben oui, les niaqwés y peuv’ pas faire des trucs bien, fokikopi, c’est pas original, hein…

  • Non, mon ourson ne deviendra pas blanc !

    Cher Monsieur ou Chère Madame Marketing de la #Migros, pourquoi n’avez-vous pas pris un #ourson #blanc et sale ou tacheté de feutres et de couleurs ? Cela aurait bien pu montrer la puissance détergente de votre produit. Pensez-vous qu’on ait besoin de tomber si bas dans la provocation pour vendre du #savon ? Cher Monsieur ou Chère Madame Marketing de la Migros, pourquoi avez-vous choisi de blanchir un ourson brun ? Dois-je dire à mon neveu qu’être brun comme moi, comme lui ou comme son Pipou, c’est mauvais ? Dois-je le dire qu’il est urgent que nous nous rendions à la Migros acheter du détergent Total pour nous laver de nos impuretés ? Nous blanchir ? Chère Migros, pourquoi acceptes-tu, toi – on peut se tutoyer, n’est-ce pas ? – de tomber dans le piège d’une forme aussi primaire que vexante du #racisme ?


    #Suisse #affiche #pub #blanchissement #lessive #Total

    • Après tu te retrouves avec des inconnues qui font des remarques débiles devant une poupée noire (véridique - mode mais c’est quoi cette poupée, elle est noire) et des journaux féminins qui s’offusquent devant les femmes noires qui se créent des cancers de la peau à coup de crèmes blanchissantes à l’ammoniaque. @beautefatale

  • Hollande à Monaco : Sherpa, une ONG anti-corruption en profite pour déposer une plainte contre la « lessiveuse africaine » de BNP

    BANQUE - Le timing est presque parfait. Alors que la procédure semble embourbée à Monaco, l’ONG anti-corruption Sherpa a annoncé un dépôt de plainte à Paris, dénonçant un circuit financier suspect de chèques venant d’Afrique et déposés en masse auprès d’une filiale de BNP Paribas à Monaco. N’y voyez aucun hasard du calendrier si François Hollande se rend jeudi dans la principauté. Le président n’a toutefois pas prévu d’aborder le sujet dans le programme de cette visite éclair.

    Contactée par Le HuffPost, Sherpa a expliqué, non sans ironie, « que l’océanographie c’était un peu court comme programme pour une visite présidentielle ». L’ONG évoque une affaire dont nous avions déjà révélé des éléments dans nos colonnes. Pendant plusieurs années, des flux illégaux ont circulé entre BNP Monaco et l’Afrique, au nez et à la barbe du fisc local. Et tout ça, d’après nos révélations, avec le feu vert de BNP Genève, centre névralgique de la gestion de fortune du groupe BNP Paribas.