In our discussion of global cities, there was a lot of back and forth on whether the women in HCMC who engaged in sex work were liberated in any way. On the one hand, the women were claiming agency as entrepreneurs offering up certain services. More specifically, the act of entertaining visitors of the bars and engaging in nuanced social interactions that bolstered Vietnam’s global reputation served as a form of social and emotional labor that surpassed the associated acts of prostitution. In this way, the sex work seemed to be simply a factor of the women’s job as important Vietnamese citizens. This was contrasted with ideas that regardless of the economic or social capital the women might gain through this work, it could never be seen as liberating because the women never truly gained enough capital to move beyond the realm of sex work. Even the women who acquired significant financial means often used it to open their own bar, thereby keeping them in the business to some extent. Moreover, it was suggested that even though these women might be doing a national service to some capacity, they were still constrained by the fact that the country is commodifying women’s bodies and claiming ownership of them.

For me, the fetishization of Asian women was what struck me as the least liberating aspect, as it reinforced racialized and gendered stereotypes that seemed like they would inherently limit the agency of the workers. I thought it was interesting to consider the similar scenario of Brazilian male sex workers, who also primarily cater to tourists. In this case, the male sex workers view their work solely as a job, and their actions are rationalized, rather than judged, based on their ability to provide an income to these men. While I agree with comments made in class about how the history of subordination and objectification of women changes some of the dynamics of sex work, I think these Brazilian men could potentially be subjected to similar levels of fetishization as the Vietnamese women. Their ability to manipulate the system to their benefit, in this case, could be seen as liberating. Likewise, in the Vietnamese bars that catered to Western men, the women darkened their skin and wore heavy makeup and inexpensive clothing to emphasize an identity as poor Vietnamese women in need of saving (49). These women seemed to perform less of the emotional labor described in the other bars, and made the majority of their money from direct sex-for-money exchanges (50). Interestingly, these women were subjected to the least fluctuations in economic status over time (160). In this way, the women who could best manipulate Western fetishes were the most economically stable, so perhaps fetishization plays a more complex role in my understanding of liberating practices in the city than I had originally thought.

As I started thinking more about the manipulation of fetishes, I began to consider creative class consumption more generally. In previous lectures, we talked extensively about the rise of the creative class commodifying certain cultures in the city. For example, I was thinking about the Boyle Heights community gentrification. One particular instance I was reminded of was white landowners rebranding an apartment complex as “Mariachi Crossing”. Mariachis already lived in and used these spaces for their own purposes, and the white ownership of the space and titles seemed to be threatening to the local identity. Is it possible that the local Mariachis could have capitalized on the appeal of this gentrifying area to white tourists, in the same way the Vietnamese women did? If so, and if it served an economic purpose, would we still consider the rebranding as threatening to local identity? Is this situation totally different because it is not in a global city, or is there significant cross-over in the ways that global cities and creative class cities function? Conversely, should we consider whether the sex work in Vietnam is a ‘disneyfication’ of both Vietnamese culture and women, in the same way that consumer culture has ‘disneyfied’ many U.S. neighborhoods? This discussion has left me with many questions about how we can consider these types of practices that occur within the city, and I think this speaks to the difficulties in articulating who has the right to claim agency or ownership in many of these placemaking situations.

In class on Monday we debated the validity and authenticity of communities formed or maintained online. Many people in class agreed that communities formed online produce “drive-by” relationships that do not foster trust or commitment from members. However, technology can aid in maintaining pre-existing communities. For example, Facebook may help maintain ties that are formed in real life if members of the community become physically distanced. As an example, we discussed how the Parkour community is grounded in corporeal reality, but information is disseminated through an online community, and this community can manifest in physical spaces anywhere in the world because it is not tied to a specific place. This reminds me of Webber, who proposed that accessibility to a group of interest is more important than physical nearness to community members. An increase in transport and availability of information relating to a distant community aids in the ability of people to join these communities of interest. Following from this logic, it seems that online communities are just another form of technology that helps to connect people to whatever group they are interested in. If this is the case, can we really conclude that relationships formed online are not authentic or constitute strong ties? Is there something vital about sharing a physical space that makes a connection more genuine?

To that end, we discussed how technology has changed the way we embody physical space (eg. one might be physically present, but not actually interacting with those around them because they are absorbed in their technology). Is it possible that in the future relationships online will become more important than having some sort of shared physical space? If so, I am wondering what the consequences of that would be, and what the problem with having important online relationships is, if they provide equal sociability and support to what would be gained through face-to-face interactions.

In Driskell & Lyon’s study, they argued that since it is “easier to replace the relationship, change chat rooms, or ‘move’ to another virtual community” (382) online than it is to alter your face-to-face interactions with people, online relationships have limited liability and therefore do not constitute community. Do people find this argument convincing? I can understand it to some extent, but I think technology has also aided people in the ability to identify new physical spaces they could interact with, allowing them more flexibility and mobility in corporeal communities. What’s more, I’m not sure how much liability one feels to their neighbors or co-workers, for example, simply because they embody a shared space.

We also discussed the level of homogeneity that might be necessary for the formation of a community. It seems intuitive that people look for others like themselves to spend time with, and that tension within a group is reduced if everyone in the group shares similar interests and values. That being the case, perhaps communities are inherently homogenous to some extent, particularly if they are not tied to a physical space, and are instead formed by shared interests. In class, we were left wondering if it was possible to balance a desire to be surrounded by like-minded people, but also to experience diversity and exposure to different perspectives. I thought it was particularly enlightening when someone commented that you cannot form a community without having something in common, but having something in common doesn’t necessarily mean it is a homogenous group of members. I think this applies really well to our discussion of online communities, as they might be formed around a common interest, but the group members could come from very different backgrounds. Can this ideology also be applied to some of the other communities we have studied? In those examples, is the common trait that binds people only the physical space they share?