1. Perm do the aff and the alt in all other instances
2. Not speaking for other reflects blame and maintains the oppression of others – speaking for other is necessary and good
Laura Sells, Instructor of Speech Communication at Louisiana State University, 1997, “On Feminist Civility: Retrieving the Political in the Feminist Public Forum”
In her recent article, "The Problems of Speaking For Others," Linda Alcoff points out the ways in which this retreat rhetoric has actually become an evasion of political responsibility. Alcoff's arguments are rich and their implications are many, but one implication is relevant to a vital feminist public forum.The retreat from speaking for others politically dangerous because it erodes public discourse. First, the retreat response presumes that we can, indeed, "retreat to a discrete location and make singular claims that are disentangled from other's locations." Alcoff calls this a "false ontological configuration" in which we ignore how our social locations are always already implicated in the locations of others. The position of "not speaking for others" thus becomes an alibi that allows individuals to avoid responsibility and accountability for their effects on others. The retreat, then, is actually a withdrawal to an individualist realm, a move that reproduces an individualist ideology and privatizes the politics of experience.As she points out, this move creates a protected form of speech in which the individual is above critique because she is not making claims about others. This protection also gives the speaker immunity from having to be "true" to the experiences and needs of others. As a form of protected speech, then, "not speaking for others" short-circuits public debateby disallowing critique and avoiding responsibility to the other. Second, the retreat response undercuts the possibility of political efficacy. Alcoff illustrates this point with a list of people--Steven Biko, Edward Said, Rigoberta Menchu--who have indeed spoken for others with significant political impact. As she bluntly puts it, both collective action and coalition necessitate speaking for others.
Marimba Ani, 1994, Yurugu: An African-centered Critique of European Cultural Thought and Behavior, p. 1-2
This study of Europe is an intentionally aggressive polemic. It is an assault upon the European paradigm; a repudiation of its essence. It is initiated with the intention of contributing to the process of demystification necessary for those of us who would liberate ourselves from European intellectual imperialism. Europe's political domination of Africa and much of the "non-European" world has been accompanied by a relentless cultural and psychological rape and by devastating economic exploitation. But what has compelled me to write this book is the conviction that beneath thisdeadly onslaught lies a stultifying intellectual mystification that prevents Europe's political victims from thinking in a manner that would lead to authentic self-determination.Intellectual decolonization is a prerequisite for the creation of successful political decolonization and cultural reconstruction strategies.Europe's political imperialistic success can be accredited not so much to superior military might, as to the weapon of culture: The former ensures more immediate control but requires continual physical force for the maintenance of power, while the latter succeeds In long-lasting dominance that enlists the cooperation of its victims (i.e., pacification of the will). The secret Europeans discovered early in their history is that culture carries rules for thinking, and that if you could impose your culture on your victims you could limit the creativity of their vision, destroying their ability to act with will and intent and in their own interest.The truth is that we are all "intellectuals," all potential visionaries. / This book discusses the evolution of that process of imposition, as well as the characteristics of cultural beings who find it necessary to impose their will on others. It is not a simple process to explain, since the tools we need in order to dissect it have been taken from us through colonial miseducation.1 It is necessary to begin, therefore, with a painful weaning from the very epistemological assumptions that strangle us.The weaning takes patience and commitment, but the liberation of our minds is well worth the struggle. / My chosen field is African-Centered cultural science — the reconstruction of a revolutionary African culture. I teach Pan-African studies. The experience convinces me more and more, however, that teaching Pan-African studies well means teaching European studies simultaneously. To be truly liberated, African people must come to know the nature of European thought and behavior in order to understand the effect that Europe has had on our ability to think victoriously.We must be able to separate our thought from European thought, so as to visualize a future that is not dominated by Europe. This is demanded by an African-centered view because we are Africans, and because the future towards which Europe leads us is genocidal.
4. Inaction DA– pushing the struggle onto indigenous peoples encourages inaction in the face of atrocity.
Wanzer 12 (Assistant Professor of Communication Studies at the University of Iowa in Iowa City) 2012 (Darrel, “Delinking Rhetoric, or Revisiting Mcgee’s Fragmentation Thesis Through Decoloniality” Rhetoric and Public Affairs Page 654)//TB
In short, I would submit that we all (regardless of whether we are interested in discursive con/texts explicitly marked by colonialism or imperialism) must seek to become decolonial rhetoricians. Rather than be “at the service” of Continental philosophy as so many in our ranks seem to be, we should adopt a decolonial attitude that aids in “shifting the geography of reason, by unveiling and enacting geopolitics and body-politics of knowledge” by putting our disciplinary tools in rhetoric “at the service of the problem being addressed.” It is not enough, however, to leave this task to scholars of color. Such a move is dangerous insofar as it continues to relegate these important questions to the margins of the discipline while constructing a fıction of “inclusion” that remains authorized by the hubris of zero point epistemology.45 We who are colonized or function in some way Otherwise cannot be the only ones leading the charge to delink rhetoric from modern/coloniality. An ethic of decolonial love requires those who benefıt most from the epistemic violence of the West to renounce their privilege, give the gift of hearing, and engage in forms of praxis that can more productively negotiate the borderlands between inside and outside, in thought and in being. We need not, as I have shown with McGee, throw out the baby with the bathwater; however, it is crucial that rhetoricians begin to take the decolonial option seriously if we wish to do more than perpetuate “a permanent state of exception”46 that dehumanizes people of color and maintains the hubris of a totalizing and exclusionary episteme.
5. Perm do both solves best. People regardless of race need to advocate for natives. However, at the same time we should progressively incorporate actual natives into academia.
Newns, 14 (Lucinda. London Metropolitan University, Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities (FSSH), Adjunct. "Speaking for Others: Tensions in Post-colonial Studies." Times Higher Education. N.p., 16 July 2014. Web. 30 July 2015. .)//TB
It is often said that “impostor syndrome” is a common experience among PhD students, but does my whiteness make me an impostor in some academic spaces for reasons beyond my novice status? My partner, who is not white, has joked that I should bring him along to academic events as a way to increase my “street cred”. Yet the issue goes far beyond a question of academic credibility (or lack of it) to one of institutional power structures around race and the question of who gets to (or should be able to) speak about black experience. Put in the context of debates around the question “Why isn’t my professor black?”, there is the possibility that my appointment to a permanent academic post (should I be lucky enough to obtain one) could be a result of the very hegemonic structures that my work and politics purport to resist. I can take some comfort in arguments such as those put forward by the post-colonial feminist scholar Trinh T. Minh-ha, who asserts that “the understanding of difference is a shared responsibility, which requires a minimum willingness to reach out to the unknown” – in other words, that resisting racial hierarchies should not be the job of only those who experience racism. My presence at these events and the fact that my research addresses racial power structures as a central concern could be cited as evidence of my willingness to “reach out to the unknown” and forge networks of resistance across racial and ethnic lines, but the uneasiness remains – and with good reason. A recent article on the Media Diversified website describes a controversy that overtook the 1992 international conference Women in Africa and in the African Diaspora, held in Nigeria. It centred on the question of whether white women should be able to present papers on black women’s experiences, those opposing arguing that the sessions should be a safe space away from white women whose collective complicity with racial discrimination is well documented. Similar debates are nowadays played out on social media, particularly Twitter, where white feminists are frequently called out for a lack of attention to their/our own privileged positions. As the author of the Media Diversified article rightly points out, the anger exhibited at the conference and in the so-called “toxic wars” on Twitter has an important history that must be acknowledged. We must remain on guard for those times when “solidarity” is actually tantamount to erasure (as the hashtag #solidarityisforwhitewomen draws attention to). We often see literature as outside this kind of identity politics, and teaching literature (as opposed to something such as, say, sociology) somehow avoids the question of whether I personally have lived experience of the topic at hand. Perhaps this is because when we read literature we are to a certain extent always brought into a world not our own. But English is also one of the areas in the UK that is the most whitewashed. At an event at Soas, University of London earlier this year, Joan Anim-Adoo, professor of Caribbean literature and culture at Goldsmiths, pointed out that despite a surge in course offerings in “post-colonial literature”, English literature has been particularly resistant to letting “others” in – both on its bookshelves and in its academic departments. This is in contrast to the US, where African American literature has a more prominent place in American literary history. This difference between the UK and the US has a lot to do with England’s colonial past and the central role that English literature played in shoring up “Englishness” abroad, but it also has to do with the continuing perception in the UK that non-white populations are newcomers, making them seem like “add-ons” to the established canon of “Great English Literature”. And in times of austerity, such perceived “add-ons” are always the first to be under threat. At academic events on race, my whiteness seems to be the proverbial elephant in the room. However, at literature conferences, even those aimed at “post-colonial” themes, the prevailing whiteness of the delegates guards against any such “uncomfortable” encounters. This discrepancy is evidence of the depth of the problem. If we can’t connect the dots between the resistant theories we spout in our papers and the bodies in the room, then we are doing our own research a disservice. This has not been an attempt to offer any easy solutions to the issues I highlight, but is rather about starting a conversation that needs to be had alongside all the others that stem from the question “Why isn’t my professor black?”. This unease I feel is something that I want to hold on to but not to keep to myself any more. I hope that these thoughts will be shared, debated and contested beyond my own limited experience.