This paper arises out of my piñata project. In that project, I constructed a piñata, shaped like a box, to represent the box in which I have felt stuck at various times in my life. On the outside of the box I attached photographs, drawings, sayings, newspaper cut- outs, and other things that represent the part of me that I want to deconstruct. These mementos reflect others' inscriptions on me. They represent the "history of the collective" and "invite[ ] critical scrutiny of [my] culture" (Fox-Genovese 165). Inside the box I included memorabilia of a similar genre. However, these tokens represent who I believe I am and who I want to be and they are the aspects of my self that I want to nurture. During my class presentation, classmates helped me deconstruct my self by breaking the box. I then flattened the box and attached a stick (that we had used to break the box) to the flattened box. This newly formed box became the tree on which we attached the mementos of my reconstructed self. Through this project, I hope to articulate my feminist viewpoint of the world by analyzing how I am affected by the social world, examining the role of power and knowledge relationships in shaping the ways I think about the social world, and imagining ways in which the social world can be transformed (Flax 55). To do this, I explore the relationship between one's self and one's identity. Is the former essential and the latter constructed? Is one's self the site of personal reflections and actions and one's identity the site for political action? Finally, I consider whether I can extrapolate from my personal exploration to global feminist issues, imagining ways in which the world can be transformed.

How I am affected by the social world: essential self/constructed identity?

The outside of the box embodies "truths" that I have been told over the years, mainly by my parents and the media. These include sayings such as "Arabs don't value life as much as Jews do," "Education (i. e. formal schooling) is the key to intelligence," "You can never be too rich or too thin," "You're only as happy as your most unhappy child," and "You don't feel that way." In addition, there are magazine representations of women and a drawing of me by my son when I yell at him. All of these things represent a self over which I do not wish to claim ownership. There are also photographs of my family of origin and poems I have written. These mementos represent aspects of me that I am either unwilling or unable to let go of, but still want to deconstruct. The tree (i.e. the contents of the box) contains memorabilia of my reconstructed self. For example, there are photographs of me doing things I enjoy, there is a drawing by my son of us reading together in bed, and there are cut-outs with sayings such as "be who you are," "I am grateful to live in a body and mind that is becoming freer everyday," and "nurturing creativity." Does one side reflect my self and the other my identity? What is the difference? Is this distinction a fallacy? Can you separate your self from your identity? Do they not affect each other?

"In feminist theory. . . essentialism can be located in appeals to a pure or original femininity, a female essence, outside the boundaries of the social and thereby untainted (though perhaps repressed) by a patriarchal order" (Fuss 2). An essence is "that which is most irreducible, unchanging and therefore constitutive of a given person or thing" (2). Is the self essential or is it tainted by social constructions? Is the self really just experiences that feel like an essence because we have constructed it as such? Is there a disjunction between one's self and one's identity? If my essence is unbounded by experiences and social constructions, my essence would be the same regardless of where I was born, the color of my skin, my socioeconomic class, my sexual orientation, my gender, etc.. Can this be possible? The tying of one's female essence to her femininity requires that one's self be shaped by one's gender. If my essence is inextricably linked to the material world (i.e. one's gender, class, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, etc.), then it cannot exist outside of that material world. It is bound by experience.

However, there are aspects of me that are hidden from others. They are my secrets and my dreams that I choose not to share. I am a unique individual. No one else is me. No one else looks, thinks or feels exactly as I do. Is this not a self? If I was not born with an essential self, how did I become who I am? "Constructionism. . . insists that essence is itself a historical construction. . . Constructionists reject the idea that any essential or natural given precedes the processes of social determination" (Fuss 2-3). I was born and raised as a white, Jewish, upper-middle class female in the United States. In my family, I was gendered and this process of gendering was also racialized. Both gender and racial categories were circumscribed on me by my family, particularly, by my father. These inscriptions were often contradictory. For example, while I was told that females had to be passive and "good girls," I was also expected to play the masculine child role in our family. In that way, I was both Florence Nightingale for my father when my mother was away and the "man of the house" for my mother and older sister when my father was away. I was expected to be independent, intelligent and intellectual, but to marry a Jewish man who would and could support me. These engravings and messages became a part of me. I adopted them, but I also resisted them. They are my identity. But, are they my self?

Looking at my tree, I see both my identities (those things imposed upon me by others) and my self (those things I choose to be and choose to represent me). However, I also see identities I choose for myself, and identities that others have imposed upon me that I still want to claim as a part of me. For example, the identity of Jewish as a place of power and superiority is one I reject, but the identity of Jewish as a cultural location and as a place of resistance is one I welcome. Similarly, the identity of woman or female as a place of oppression is one I reject, but the identity of woman or female as a place of liberation and political action is one I embrace. Are the former my identities and the latter my self, or are these distinctions meaningless?

"Deconstruction consists of exposing a concept as ideological or culturally constructed rather than as natural or a simple reflection of reality" (Collins qtd in Saulnier 132). I propose that the culturally constructed binary between one's self and one's identity is problematic and needs to be deconstructed. My identity(ies) and my self(ves) affect each other. They do not stand alone untainted by the other. However, there may be times when we choose to draw on one and minimize the other. In this way, they can be distinct from one another. The choice to access or emphasize one and not the other is partially embedded in the manner in which power and knowledge relationships shape the way we think about the world.

Role of power and knowledge relationships in shaping the way I think about the world: personal self/political identity?

How do power and knowledge relationships shape who we are and how we think about the world? Is the personal tied to the self and the political connected to one's identity? Finally, how do these two questions relate to one another? In my family of origin, I felt silenced. I did not have the power to express my thoughts and feelings. It was not a safe place. I was taught to believe that as a girl I could only say certain things; I could only participate in certain conversations. At the same time, as a white, upper-middle class Jew I understood that I had power. I was "better" than "them." These experiences and lessons have impacted how I think about the world and how I act in it. They have taught me that I both have power and am powerless. Thus, I live in contradictions. These contradictions manifest themselves in different ways in my life.

On a personal level, I have certain feelings and act in certain ways. Yet, on a more public or political level I have different feelings and act in different ways. Often the two coincide. However, at times, they also conflict. For example, I have a Sports Utility Vehicle, although I do not think I should. In fact, I think it is wrong. Similarly, I am a vegetarian, but my children are not. This decision reflects both a contradiction in and a harmony with my beliefs. I believe that we should not eat meat because if everyone stopped eating meat, there would be enough food to feed everyone in the world. At the same, I believe in relinquishing the power I have to make all decisions for my children. I feel they should be given the power to make decisions for themselves. But before I am willing to relinquish this power, they first must be given certain knowledge or information. Thus, I discuss with my children why I do not think they should eat meat. But ultimately, I let them decide. Since the information is provided by me, I must acknowledge the power I have to influence their decisions. They are not fully mature enough to access the information themselves. Thus, the information they receive reflects my personal beliefs. This is another exercise of my power and my knowledge. These anecdotes demonstrate the disjunction that often occurs between personal and political feelings and actions, and the influence of power and knowledge relationships on my view of the social world.

My tree embodies these theoretical concepts as well. It contains both personal and political aspects of my self and my identity. There are photographs of me hiking, floating in the ocean and working in my garden. There are also sayings or cut-outs that represent my more personal self, such as "yoga," "inner peace" and "fun." On the other hand, there are photographs from the Beijing Conference on Women, and of political posters, as well as sayings and words such as "organic" and "gender matters." It also shows how power and knowledge shape my view of the world. As discussed above, the box includes sayings such as "Arabs don't value life as much as Jews do," and "Education is the key to intelligence" as well as a drawing by my son of me yelling at him. The tree has photographs of me letting go of control (i.e. power), and photographs of others' exercising power. My tree demonstrates how my self engages in daily political acts of power on a personal level and how my identity engages in political acts of power on a more diffused (or global) level. The disjunction between these two, however, is not complete.

While I still struggle with those identities that have been inscribed upon me, it is often through acts of resistance to those identities and "truths" that I act politically. In addition, it is through my conscious connections with my personal self that I find the strength and courage to challenge the identities inscribed upon me and others. I work to counteract these racist, sexist, heterosexist, ageist, classist messages and identities. But when I join other women to fight against specific oppressions of women (e.g. identity politics), I must consider whether, in these alliances, I am suppressing a part of my self or requiring others to do so. Similarly, if I choose to engage in political action as a Jew to challenge the discourse concerning Israel's acts against Palestinians, I must simultaneously challenge my own power vis-à-vis others. I must examine how I am and how others are constructed and influenced by power and knowledge relationships. My self and my identity are intertwined with how power and knowledge relationships shape the way I think about the world. The former influences the latter and vice versa. How can we utilize this connection to imagine ways in which the social world can be transformed?

Imagining ways in which the social world can be transformed: can I extrapolate from my personal exercise and experiences to envision a global feminist project?

Is it possible and appropriate to extrapolate from my personal project to examine global political considerations? How is my personal exploration relevant to a global feminist agenda? During my class presentation of my piñata, classmates assisted in the deconstruction and reconstruction of my self. They helped me break the box and build the tree. My classmates attached paper to the tree to increase its size to fit all the mementos contained in the box. Thus, the box is actually bigger than it was when it was in a box form. They glued and taped photographs, sayings, newspaper cut-outs, and their own thoughts and comments to both the tree side and the box side of the tree. My classmates transformed my box. For example, over some of the representations on the box (the deconstructed self), they taped sayings such as, "recharge your life by coming back to your senses," and "then recycle this sheet." The contents of the box (i.e. those mementos contained within the box which were used to reconstruct me) were changed by the inclusion of my classmates' feelings, thoughts, and other additions they made to the tree. Furthermore, the connections drawn between the memorabilia shaped the form of the tree. In this way, my self and my identity were deconstructed, reconstructed and altered by my classmates.

Is it ever possible for a self to exist outside of culture? Does one's self remain hostage to the collective? I wonder if this reconstructed and altered self is "hostage" to this collective (my classmates). I feel that my self was freed by this collective participation. Their reconstruction of me was informative and uplifting. It allowed me the freedom to enjoy myself and to deconstruct the aspects of my self that I dislike. In addition, it allowed me to see how others construct me. One classmate wrote and stuck to the tree, "I admire your bravery." Another wrote, "Passionate and so damn full of LOVE." A third wrote "I am not alone." Had I simply deconstructed and reconstructed my self and my identity alone, my reconstructed self would be different. I have learned things about my self and my identity from these interactions.

What, if anything, can I take from this exercise to my participation in global feminist political practice? Can I extrapolate from my personal piñata project to global politics? One thing my project has helped me challenge and acknowledge is the contradictory positions I occupy. As a white woman vis-à-vis women of color I have power, but as a white woman vis-à-vis white men I have little power. If we acknowledge the hierarchies, power imbalances, unique histories, cultural and racial differences and variances in location, how do we form political alliances and act from them? In her article "Crafting Feminist Genealogies: On the Geography and Politics of Home, Nation, and Community," Chandra Mohanty discusses the importance of crafting genealogies to develop a "critical multicultural feminist practice" (Mohanty 499). In her own exploration of her self and her identity, Mohanty engaged in an "intellectual and political genealogy of being Indian that was radically challenging as well as profoundly activist" (491). This is not unlike what I have tried to do with my piñata. For Mohanty, her exploration provided an understanding of what it meant to her to be South Asian in North America (492). For me, it has provided an understanding of what it has meant to me to be a rebellious, female/male gendered daughter and sister in my family, and what it has meant to be a white, upper-middle class, Jewish woman in North America. As Mohanty points out, the genealogy I crafted for my project is only partial (499). It identifies only certain aspects of myself, perhaps most prominently my identity as a mother. At this time, it is from this particular identity that I find myself acting politically most often. Through small, everyday acts of anti-racist feminist mothering, I feel I am engaging in a "pedagogy of liberation" (Mohanty 499).

As the earlier discussion exposed, my history and my present are far more complicated. But, perhaps through this genealogy I can begin to define my self and my identity and to help others understand me. It is from this position that I can then begin to understand the genealogies of other women. These understandings can provide an avenue for finding common alliances from which to engage in global feminist political action. However, I do not think the exploration should stop there. My piñata project shows the importance of expanding one's genealogy to include impressions, feelings, etc. from those in our community. Through the interactive nature of my project, I learned how my classmates construct me. How others' see us is also important to global feminist action. It helps us further acknowledge and understand the hierarchies and power/knowledge imbalances. While I embrace Mohanty's genealogy project to help form global feminist alliances, I would add the aspect of my project that incorporates the reflections of individuals with whom we form alliances. Perhaps by joining the two, we can both learn about each other's experiences (through the genealogy) and learn how we are constructed by others (through the reflexive process of my project). Mohanty's genealogy lacks the interactive piece that my project supplies. This interaction is important because it helps move us from personal considerations to global and political understandings. "The representation of the self invites the critical scrutiny of the culture" (Fox-Genovese 165). It also provides a space for learning and reflection. This type of interactive process is undoubtedly more difficult. You may not like what is reflected back to you. But if one remains open to those reflections, growth will come. More than just inviting a critical scrutiny of the culture, a genealogy informed by reflections from individuals with whom one forms alliances provides space for understanding more about each other and overcoming conflicts.

Conclusion: moving towards a feminist viewpoint of the world

When my tree is standing, it is possible to walk around it and see all the aspects of my self and my identity on it. You can see both the box side and the tree side, both of which have been reconstructed and transformed. However, the tree also provides a more theoretical reading. Concretely, one can see pictures of me, and sayings and mementos that represent or deconstruct me. Theoretically, one can see tensions between one's self and one's identity. There is both a deconstructed and reconstructed side of the tree, but they also influence each other. In fact, the deconstructed side includes reconstructions. In addition, the box and tree are opposite sides of each other, and therefore are inseparable. There are personal aspects (e.g. photographs of me with my family) and political aspects (e.g. photographs of political space) of myself on the tree. Finally there are connections between my personal self and global issues (e.g. photographs from the Beijing Conference on Women). The tree is whole. It incorporates my self as an individual person, my self as a political actor, and my self as a member of a global feminist community. It also encapsulates my different identities. Thus my tree demonstrates the inextricable link between one's self and one's identity.

We may find an essence to that self, but that essence is inevitably shaped by the material world. Our identities are both those aspects of ourselves that we create and those parts of ourselves that others' inscribe upon us, for better or for worse. Some of us may have sufficient power and knowledge to choose to alter, resist or politically challenge those identities. Those of us with that power must recognize it and use it positively. We can and should challenge the gendered, racialized, heterosexist, classist, ageist, etc. identities imposed upon our selves and others. We should also relinquish power. We should silence ourselves and provide space to listen to people with less power. Finally, we should critically examine how we benefit from the oppression of others and work for change both locally and globally. This is my feminist viewpoint of the world.