(NAME-MCE) Living Library

[Anselmo Villanueva]

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Joel Pierce <jdpierce at u.washington.edu>
Date: Jul 15, 2008 1:38 PM

that Corvallis article reminded me of something that's recently been
catching on in libraries, especially in Europe: human books.  People make
themselves available for a day or two to answer questions about being a
minority (ethnic, religious, political, lifestyle, etc.) and other people
can come to the library and "check them out" for a half hour.  here's an
article about it published recently:

http://www.nouse.co.uk/2008/06/23/i-would-like-to-borrow-a-muslim/

cheers,
joel

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I would like to borrow a
Muslim<http://www.nouse.co.uk/2008/06/23/i-would-like-to-borrow-a-muslim/>
by
*Alex Forsyth <http://www.nouse.co.uk/author/alex-forsyth/>* | June 23rd,
2008

 *A new kind of Library has opened, where instead of books you can borrow a
Muslim - or a single father, or a transvestite, for a chat. Alex
Forsythvolunteers to be lent as a 'book', and asks whether this
concept can really
help break down stereotypes.*

A Muslim, a Catholic and a transsexual are sitting in a library. An opener
to a joke this is not: It is the Living Library – where, instead of books,
you borrow people. You pick a person for a 30-minute dialogue in which you
can ask questions, engage in meaningful discourse or simply bounce ideas. I
wait with the other 'books' to be borrowed.

At the front desk there is a catalogue listing the selection of human books
on offer, and under each book title there are a handful of negative
epithets. The stereotypes range from 'funeral director' (adjectives include
'morbid' and 'exploitative') to 'Indian atheist' ('eccentric',
'nonconformist'). As a prerequisite to interviewing the candidates, I had
agreed to volunteer to join the Living Library as one of the books; the
'student'. In the catalogue at the Human Library's front desk, 'Student' was
bundled with a healthy handful of clichés: Aside from 'tax-dodger', 'do
useless degrees' and 'politically apathetic' I was also down for 'lazy',
'can't cook' and 'spends all money on beer.'

Sitting and chatting with the other books proved a little awkward at first,
and there was a whiff of dark comedy in the air. Being asked 'What book are
you?' and being expected to ask it back prompted surge of panic: If I didn't
ask it would seem like I presumed to already know their title, thus
presenting myself as someone prone to racial profiling or shallow
judgements, while asking those with obvious outward signs of their title
just seemed patronising.

What if I made the faux pas of guessing someone was 'Immigrant' when they
were there as 'vegan'? Diffusing the tension, Nihad, 'Muslim'
(Preconceptions: 'bearded', 'oppresses women'), pointed to me and grinned,
"You must be the student… Big night yesterday?" The first time volunteers
chatted to the veteran books, trying to dispel their anxiety - "what happens
if you don't get borrowed? What happens if someone borrows you and hates
you?"

As the public started borrowing books it seemed that not many people felt
the need to challenge the scurrilous prejudices against students, so I took
the opportunity to talk to the founder of the Living Library, Ronnie
Abergel, and ask him what motivated him towards the project. "I worked at a
youth organisation," he explains in an accent that jumps between American
and Danish. "We had kids killing each other with knives for nothing. We had
to find a way of making them see the human being behind the caricature. To
not see the young immigrant boy, to not see the police uniform but to see
the human." The Living Library has the ethos, 'To build a relation to the
human being and not to the stigma.' Its aim is to allow members of the
public to engage in candid discussions with people that they may not
normally have a chance to meet, and to break down preconceptions that they
may hold about that social group or people.

The list of books has grown from minority groups frequently confronted with
discrimination and social exclusion to a wide-ranging cross-section of
society. I ask Abergel if the Library ever has to turn down volunteer books
and he nods, rubbing his stubble. "I've turned some away, not necessarily
because they're inflammatory, they're just not relevant for what we are
trying to do."

I?ask him for an example. "We had a person who was pro-slavery," he tells
me, shaking his head. "It's not relevant, you are not exposed to prejudice,
who in their right mind is going to feel sympathy for you?" I suggest to
Abergel that it might be beneficial to have access to more controversial
books. He insists that in order to create cohesion within the book choices
the Library has to be selective. "You set forth aims and objectives to each
event and if, like today, it's to bring attention to mainstream stereotypes
then there are certain [books] that are too soft or too weak."

But how far does the project fulfil its objective? While those already
through the doors may genuinely be on the way to breaking down their
preconceptions, the Living Library is, by default, its own filter: The type
of person willing to attend is someone who is prepared to admit they hold
prejudices and are willing to challenge them Those with seriously bigoted
views would not even make it to the door. I take this concern to Anne
Kilroy, the Facilitator. "Yes that is a shortcoming" she admits. "You are
not going to reach the people with very extreme views, no matter what you
do. The vast majority of people like ourselves all have negative stereotypes
or prejudices and it's difficult for us to admit that - these are the people
we reach." The real targets of the Library are those who have been lulled
into a false sense of tolerance, espousing liberal values and acceptance,
while unwittingly harbouring bias against certain social groups. We are
constantly bombarded with reminders of how cosmopolitan Britain is,
especially in London, but Abergel thinks this is illusory. "A citizen survey
of last year showed that most white Caucasian British have very little
meaningful interaction with minorities," he tells me. "And the people that
think they do have it? They go into a shop where the owner is from a
minority, they say hello and how much and they pay." He smirks, "They call
that meaningful interaction."

Back in the waiting room I raise the issue with Victoria, 'girl with facial
disfigurement', ('lonely'). She has a rare genetic disorder known as
Cherubism, causing a prominence in the lower part of the face. She sees the
social exclusion she experiences as being a result of what she terms as a
sort of "mutual misconception" of her disorder. For her, the Living Library
is a way to break this stalemate, allowing people to talk to her candidly
about her disfigurement. "A lot of people imagine themselves as normal,
open-minded, they don't judge anybody. Then they are faced with someone in a
wheelchair or someone with a disfigurement and they don't know how to react,
they don't know where to look."

I was curious to know what people ask her. "Helpful questions mainly, about
interaction. I've had one who just asked me 'Where should I look if someone
has a facial disfigurement?' I told him the best place is always the eyes,
or just above the eyes." I ask her if she thinks she holds any prejudice of
her own. "In a way. I used to hate people staring at me, I thought they did
it because I looked different." But after confronting people, she tells me,
it turned out that many of them simply recognised her work on television,
"So I was making judgements too," she admitted.

As the morning turns to afternoon the books start to fly off the shelves. A
young lady is poring over the catalogue. She squeals like a child with
unlimited book vouchers at the best sellers shelf, "I've always wanted to
talk to a hypnotist. Though the transgender might be interesting. Ooh! they
have a witch!" Overwhelmed with choice she flicks back and forth wondering
who to borrow in her lunch break. This indecision was not uncommon as the
there were a choice of titles that spark great amount of interest with the
readers. The books that are most borrowed are appropriately called 'best
sellers', and looking at the sign out sheet there are some who have been
booked out all day. So far transgender ('pervert') and witch ('satanist')
have been the books of choice.

Another popular book was vegan ('hippy'). "I don't know why. I'm quite
boring really," she says returning from another session. "But a lot of
people don't get it. They just keep asking me what I eat." As 'lesbian' and
'girl with facial disfigurement' are checked out again, I start to feel like
a schoolboy being picked last for sports. I am left making awkward
conversation with the 'stay at home dad' and 'humanist'. We, clearly, are
books that are being judged by our covers.

The Living Library is, without doubt, striking a chord with its visitors,
but could it be easily misconstrued as making light of serious issues?
Kerry, a 63 year old pre-op transsexual disagrees. She thinks that rather
than make light of the issues, the Library helps reverse "media created
issues. I spend a lot of time talking to the media but I can talk straight
to people here. Every time they make a joke about a 'cock in a frock' in
comedy or adverts tell you what men and women 'normally' do, it creates
expectations. I'm big and broad, I'm 6 foot 3, I wasn't expected to be a
wimp." The 'pro-life activist' comes to the same conclusion. "The news like
to show a small group angry [pro-life] people waving boards… attacking
doctors… but most of us disassociate ourselves with these people…
unfortunately that's the image created" The media is cited as one of the
main contributors to the stereotypes by the majority of people I speak to.
Abergel agrees. "If you don't have access to a social group, where else are
you going to find it? Media ethics discussions should be set up, but that's
a whole different thing. The point is, here you can get a second opinion for
yourself. You get a second opinion at the doctors, right? If someone tells
you all Muslims are killers, what do you do? You find out for yourself, you
seek out alternative opinion."

So where next for the Living Library? "The next dimension," Abergel says
excitedly, "are the post-conflict territories. We took it to Palestine [but]
they're not ready for it yet. There are suggestions of taking it around
university campuses and festivals. It's the perfect audience: that's where
it started. In a festival." We are nearly at closing time and I am about to
give up hope when I am tapped on the shoulder by an avuncular middle-aged
man who asks if I am the 'student.'

We sit with a coffee and I ready my wits for a solid 30 minutes of railing
accusations. Instead we end up comparing our experiences as students,
studying in the late sixties versus studying in the late noughties. He tells
me of riots and values, punting and lectures on acid. I consider telling him
that actually most of us spend our days sleeping in and doing little work.
That we spend our money on cheesy chips and spend our nights in sub-par
clubs. That days drift by on cheap alcohol and fumbled flirtations. That we
kept the casual sex but lost the ideologies.

But I decided not to in the end. It sounded like a bit of a stereotype.