Let's talk about X, baby

A little more than a month ago, Mother Jones ran an article titled "The Problem with Men Explaining Things."  Although I do not want to go into too much detail here, the article deals with the issue of "mansplaining," a lovely Portmanteau coined to describe the social phenomena in which a man presumes that a woman does not know anything about some particular subject and then proceeds to explain it to her. In the article, a man unknowingly lectured a woman about a book that she had authored:

Here, let me just say that my life is well sprinkled with lovely men, with a long succession of editors who have, since I was young, listened and encouraged and published me, with my infinitely generous younger brother, with splendid friends of whom it could be said—like the Clerk in The Canterbury Tales I still remember from Mr. Pelen's class on Chaucer—"gladly would he learn and gladly teach." Still, there are these other men, too. So, Mr. Very Important was going on smugly about this book I should have known when Sallie interrupted him to say, "That's her book." Or tried to interrupt him anyway.

But he just continued on his way. She had to say "That's her book" three or four times before he finally took it in. And then, as if in a 19th-century novel, he went ashen. That I was indeed the author of the very important book it turned out he hadn't read, just read about in the New York Times Book Review a few months earlier, so confused the neat categories into which his world was sorted that he was stunned speechless—for a moment, before he began holding forth again. Being women, we were politely out of earshot before we started laughing, and we've never really stopped.

I often hate to post topics like this because, inevitably, I end up with well-meaning comments about how this only happens every once in a while, and really women are considered equally, anyway. I have to quash my eyeroll reflex. But I find myself concerned with the phenomena because my lovely friend Jordan had this happen to her last week at a sports bar while she was watching the Texas football game. Not only did said person try to explain the football game to her, he patted her shoulder and asked her what she thought about Erin Andrews' shoes. To quote Amy Poehler, "REALLY?!"

Most of us women have learned to deal with these occasional slights to our intelligence by employing a well-placed comment that signifies our literacy in the subject, or by ignoring them entirely (though for me, this is the road-less-traveled). The more problematic edge to these phenomena, however, is more subversive, and one that I find that I encounter on a regular basis. This occurs when a woman who makes an intellectual claim about a topic in a field in which she has excellent credentials (and not merely knowledge—although the knowledge should be enough), and is automatically disbelieved or presumed not knowledgeable enough about the subject. And this is where it's really damaging.

If you are at all acquainted with me via facebook, you are probably aware that I have strong opinions on many controversial topics. This means that I often end up in debates where, unfortunately, I first have to legitimate my voice before I can successfully contribute to the topic. If I make a claim about a particular topic, I often have responses from others participated in the debate where the responders checked my facebook profile to find out where I went to school and what I majored in before evaluating whether my knowledge on the subject is relevant to the conversation. Even after I establish that I do have a sufficient knowledge base, I find my arguments picked apart based on everything from my vocabulary choices to the presumed tone with which I responded—a particularly frustrating argument since tone cannot be effectively communicated via text-based methods—rather than responding to the content of what I say.

I recently ended up in a surprisingly pleasant debate with a 16-year-old boy, a junior in high school, who kept trying to explain to me why my particular approach to a subject was wrong. While trying to explain my viewpoint and why I thought the way I did, we were interrupted by another male who informed me that my explanations were unpleasant, that I had bad people skills, and that he couldn't believe I wanted to be a pastor. He told me it was not my place to "teach" and that I needed to learn to be "harmless, not helpful." There was no critique of the 16-year-old who kept telling me I was wrong.

I write this post not because I have an answer to the question of what to do in situations like these, but because I want to draw attention to them. What should we, as women, do in response to situations like these? How can we prevent them from happening? Can we even do so?

All I know is I'm tired of the fight to defend my voice.

The issue of Women in Refrigerators

This post continues a conversation started earlier on this blog on the status of women in comic books. Anita Sarkeesian over at Feminist Frequency is a pop culture media critic who produces an ongoing video series in collaboration with Bitch Magazine regarding tropes in popular media that marginalize and trivialize women. The second part of this series deals with the Women in Refrigerators trope that occurs quite frequently in comic books and across popular media:

When [Gail] Simone released her list [of over 90 comics that featured female superheroes who suffered a loss of super powers, brutal violation or an untimely, gruesome death] in 1999 there was an instant backlash from some comic book fans who thought it was unfair that they were singling out female characters. This criticism happens whenever we point out tropes specifically about women. In this case, comic book fans criticized the Women in Refrigerators by saying that male heroes get killed and tortured too so what’s the big deal? The people who run the Women in Refrigerators website responded to this by creating another trope (how much do I love fans!) called Dead Men Defrosting. Comic fan John Bartol explains, “In cases where males heroes have been altered or appear to die they usually come back even better than before, either power-wise or in terms of character development/relevancy to the reader." 

This video is quite enlightening. For more information check out these related links:

• Tropes vs. Women: #2 Women in Refrigerators - the original blog post at Feminist Frequency
• Women in Refrigerators - the official Women in Refrigerators (WiR) website, including Gail Simone's original letter, an ever-expanding list of comic book characters, and responses from other comic book fans
• Dead Men Defrosting by John Bartol
• The Cold Shoulder: Saving Superheroines from Comic-book Violence by Shannon Cochran at Bitch Media
• Women in Refrigerators: Alexandra DeWitt - an article critiquing the original WiR comic for which the trope was named
• A Woman's Place is Not in the Refrigerator by Marie Brennan at Science Fiction and Fantasy Novelists

On "cunt," "bitch," and other bad words

I should have been a Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies major in undergrad.

The other night, I got into a (rather exhausting and time-consuming) debate with a friend of mine on Skype. Although my (white, male, Catholic) friend, whom I will refer to henceforth as Mr X, tried to make many arguments to the point of "why people should not be offended by the language I use and the [racist and sexist] jokes I make," the real debate centered around whether or not "cunt" was an insult. While there is an obvious answer to this question (It's an insult if it's used like an insult!), the ethicist, linguist, and advocate inside of me attempted to tease out the subtleties of privilege and misogyny in the use of such a word.

One of Mr X's favorite points, and one I see bandied about quite a bit on the internet, is the fact that "cunt" refers to female genitalia, much in the same way that "dick" refers to male genitalia and therefore, "cunt" is no more insulting than "dick." What Mr X understood to be important was how the word was intended, and not how it was understood by the interlocutor. This argument sets up a false understanding of the dichotomy of insults. Melissa McEwan, who runs a blog series called Feminism 101 over at Shakesville, summarizes the counterpoint beautifully in her article "On 'Bitch' and Other Misogynistic Language":

Intent: If you're turning part of a woman's body into a slur to insult someone, the implication is necessarily that cunts are bad, nasty, less than, in some way something that a person wouldn't want to be or be associated with. That's how insults work. When cunt is used as a slur, it is dependent on construing a woman's body part negatively—and it thusly misogynistic, because it inexorably insults women in the process. Specifically using a misogynistic slur against a man can't be anything but intentionally misogynistic. If you don't intend to demean women, then don't use misogynistic slurs. It's really as simple as that.

While Melissa's reasoning might suggest that calling a man a "dick" implies that dicks are bad, nasty, less than, and in some way something that a person would not want to be or to be associated with, calling a man a dick is not demeaning. Calling a man a dick is not demeaning because a dick is not understood to be an unfavorable possession; having a dick is a sign of male privilege. In minority studies, privilege means that opportunities and status are awarded to a group of people on the basis of normalcy. Privilege is socially constructed, and an individual may have privilege or not have privilege depending on the society he or she is in. Unfortunately, men are almost universally recipients of privilege, and women are not. Because of this power relationship, using an insult that demeans a man does not carry the same weight as one that demeans a woman because of the history of oppression that is linked to demeaning and marginalizing women (and other minority groups who suffer). The argument can be applied to slurs against other minority groups as well.

Another point made by Mr X is that "cunt" cannot be an insult because women use it themselves to describe themselves (or similarly, Chris Rock makes fun of black people; why can't I?). The problem here is that a woman using the word in a reclamatory fashion is fundamentally different from a man using it as an insult. Not recognizing that there is a difference is what August Pollack calls a fabricated belief. The fact that women feel the need to reclaim the words "cunt" and "bitch" is proof enough of their derogatory nature; they would not need to be reclaimed if they were not an insult from the beginning. Or, as Derailing for Dummies puts it:

What this enables you to ignore is the reality of the power dynamic involved. Language reclaimation is a means by which Marginalised People™ gain back some power they are traditionally denied by taking control of words used to demean and discriminate against them. When these words come from Privileged People®, there is a long and very serious negative history behind them that cannot be divorced from the words themselves. Thus, when Privileged People® employ these words, they are perpetuating that history and the psychology behind the word. They are exercising oppressive power that have become inherent to those words - a power Marginalised People™ seek to subvert and dismantle when they use them. 

This is why I refuse to listen if I hear someone referring to others by hateful language. Don't be calling other people "cunt" and "bitch" while I'm around, even if you "don't mean it that way." Using misogynist language and attempting to divorce it from its context perpetuates the problem of gender inequality, and I won't stand for it.

And no, I'm not being oversensitive.

Shaving: A rite of passage for women too?

Thanks to a thoughtful post over at Vagenda Mag, I recently started thinking about how hair (or the lack thereof) has played a big role in my gender identity.

When I was a little girl, I never really thought about gender very much. I liked to wear dresses and play with stuffed animals, sure, but I also played with Legos and Omagles. I really liked swimming. I remember how excited I was when my parents got me a baseball bat and glove. I also remember how incredibly satisfying it was to be able to kick a soccer ball as far as the boys in the older grades could. I remained blissfully unaware of gender until the 3rd grade, when my secondary sex characteristics started developing. Or, to put it simply, I got boobs and started growing armpit hair. My mom would no longer let me run around outside shirtless like I did when I was younger, and my school principal made me start wearing a bra. But even so, I still didn't really think about gender much. All I knew was that my body had a certain shape, and it meant something, but I couldn't really be bothered to care what it meant. Just that my body was different from my peers.

Over time I came to realize that my body wasn't just different; its difference was important. The school principal wouldn't let me help with the heavy lifting. The boys started paying attention to and making fun of my boobs. When I got my period, I had to become more private; letting people know that I was menstruating was shameful. I wore sports bras to try and press my boobs flat so they wouldn't garner people's attention, and I stored bags of feminine hygiene products in my teacher's desk. I felt enormous amounts of pressure about how I had to act as a female. I had to start sitting a certain way, start dressing a certain way, start talking a certain way. I became aware of how people looked at and talked about my body, and learned how to keep others from feeling uncomfortable about me.

As my body changed and grew and developed, my mother helped me adjust as best she could, but I was never allowed to shave. I wore short shorts and short skirts to show off my well-toned dancer's legs, and I soon gained the affectionate nickname "Gorilla Legs." The hairs in my armpits would collect lint and become inky pits of despair. And perhaps the worst of all were the stray hairs that would escape from my bikini and mar my inner thighs. My mom took pity, and let me start shaving my armpits, and eventually my upper thighs as well, but it took years of trying to convince her that I should be allowed to shave my legs. I finally convinced her near the end of 8th grade. The next day in school I proudly showed off my new legs to anyone whose attention I could catch. And my nickname became "No-Longer-Gorilla Legs."

When I think back over the way I came to understand my gender and its role in my life, I consider the moment I convinced my mother to let me shave my legs as one of the first moments when I really thought to myself, "Hey, I'm a girl." Up until that point, the way I experienced my gender was as a hindrance; I was forced to be and act a certain way because of how I was born. I had to wear an itchy, uncomfortable bra, I was expected to wear dresses, and I was understood as too weak to help with lifting heavy things. Even getting my period was an annoyance because it arrived when I really wanted to go swimming. But shaving my legs was different. I was claiming something about myself. Learning to shave became an empowering act, not something that I was forced to do because of my gender, but something I wanted to do.

Even now, after a decade or more of shaving, I still get a small amount of glee when the razor blades run across my skin.

Annunciation

Annunciation Sunday is coming up this weekend, and in celebration I offer this empowering poem by Sylvia Kantaris written from the perspective of Mary.


It seems I must have been more fertile than most
to have taken that wind-blown
thistledown softly-spoken word
into my body and grown big-bellied with it.
Nor was I the first: there had been
rumours of such goings-on before my turn
came—tales of swansdown. Mine
had no wings of feathers actually
but it was hopeless trying to convince them.
They like to think it was a mystical
encounter, although they must know
I am not of that fibre—and to say I was
‘trouble’ is laughable.
What I do remember is a great rejoicing,
my body’s arch and flow, the awe,
and the ringing and singing in my ears—
and then the world stopped for a little while.
But still they will keep on about the Word,
which is their name for it, even though I’ve
told them that is definitely
not how I would put it.
I should have known they’d try to take
possession of my ecstasy and
swaddle it in their portentous terminology.
I should have kept it hidden in the dark
web of my veins...
Though this child grows in me—
not unwanted certainly, but
not intended on my part; the risk
did not concern me at the time, naturally.
I must be simple to have told them anything.
Just because I stressed the miracle of it
they’ve rumoured it about the place that I’m
immaculate—but then they always were afraid
of female sexuality.
I’ve pondered these things lately in my mind.
If they should canonize me
(setting me up as chaste and meek and mild)
God only knows what nonsense
they’ll visit on the child.

A letter to my future daughter

Beloved,

The world is not a nice place. I wish I could tell you that people will always love you for who you are, but I would be lying to you if I did. The truth is that no matter who you are, what you look like, where you come from, how successful you are, how nice you are, or how important you become, there will always be someone trying to tear you down. You will meet people who will judge you, who will hate you before they know you, and who will tell you that you're ugly and that you're worthless. Because you are a woman, people will think they have the right to judge you for how you look, how you dress, how you talk, and how you act. Your opinions will be considered less important, your feelings will be considered less important, your work will be considered less important. People will think that they have the right to touch you without your permission and govern your body without your input. People will make you feel unworthy of basic human rights. People will try to take away your dignity.

But I want you to remember always, that no matter who you are or who you become, you are always worthy of love, respect, and dignity. Never forget this, and never forget that I love you.

Love,
Your mother

MS Initiative 26

Choosing to be theologically pro-choice was not a difficult decision for me. To me, it seemed self-evident. There are really two lives that must be considered when it comes to the issue of abortion: the life of the woman who is already living and breathing and working in the world, and the potential life of a child not yet born. Although my position is typically referred to as “pro-choice” rather than “pro-life,” I claim the title of pro-life. I am not anti-life. Instead, I argue for the life of the woman whose body has become a moral battleground. I argue for the life of the victims of sexual abuse and sexual assault. I argue for the life of the woman suffering from an ectopic pregnancy. I argue for the life of the woman who cannot afford the expenses associated with child-bearing and who refuses to bring a child into a world of poverty and suffering.

However, I can understand the perspectives and values of persons who claim a more orthodox pro-life stance on the abortion debate. Abortion is always a difficult decision, and never to be taken lightly. The truth is, most women who have abortions are not JUST having an abortion. It is not a minor chore for them in between washing the dishes and doing a load of laundry. No, abortion is a Big Deal. We want women to be thinking long and hard before choosing to have an abortion. It is a hard decision. But once that decision is made, we want women to have the freedom to pursue their choice without being made to feel even worse.

At this point, you have probably heard about the amendment being voted on right now in the state of Mississippi, titled Initiative 26. This initiative proposes adding a new section under Article III of the State Constitution, which is the Bill of Rights, defining “personhood.” The text of the amendment reads:

SECTION 33. Person defined. As used in this Article III of the state constitution, “The term ‘person’ or ‘persons’ shall include every human being from the moment of fertilization, cloning, or the functional equivalent thereof.

The implications of this seemingly innocuous definition are significant. The intent, as advertised by the “Yes on 26” campaign (http://www.yeson26.net), is to outlaw abortions. However, this is not the only outcome of this bill. Birth control, in vitro fertilization methods, and cryogenics may be affected, not to mention any number of other more complicated and possibly absurd implications (is a woman who miscarries guilty of involuntary manslaughter?).

The debate right now seems to center on the issue of moral law, but almost inevitably includes a tangential debate about the authority of the Bible and God in the “law of the land.” As a person of faith, I find this particular debate to be both frustrating and harmful, if not primarily because the Bible has absolutely nothing to say regarding abortion. Misinterpretation of the Bible aside, the question of religiosity influencing constitutional law within a country founded on the idea of separation of church and state is much more troubling.

The problem comes when the argument for banning abortion is founded on religious “truth.” The assumption made by such an argument is that there is a dominant religious view regarding the issue, and that particular religious view has the authority to govern the lives of people who may or may not agree with the particular issue at hand. Outlawing abortion because of religious zeal becomes a statement against any faith or non-faith that disagrees with that viewpoint. Being anti-abortion does not mean that you have to make it illegal to have abortions. Instead, you can choose to not have an abortion yourself, or you can choose to talk openly and honestly with a woman who may need help. Understand that your personal beliefs may not be shared by all.

The particularly troubling thing about Initiative 26 is that it’s only the first of several similar amendments. Six more states are already preparing similar amendments to go on the ballot in 2012. If Initiative 26 passes, it will be only the beginning in the fight against a woman’s right to choose. As a person of faith and a future minister, at this point I can only pray that Initiative 26 does not pass, and if it does, I will pray that it does not ignite a fire that spreads across the nation. Mother God, protect your daughters from the tide of hateful anti-abortion fervor, and welcome them into the safety of your loving embrace.

Thoughts on anger

But the Spirit of the LORD departed from Saul, and a distressing spirit from the LORD troubled him. And Saul’s servants said to him, “Surely, a distressing spirit from God is troubling you. Let our master now command your servants, who are before you, to seek out a man who is a skillful player on the harp. And it shall be that he will play it with his hand when the distressing spirit from God is upon you, and you shall be well.” So Saul said to his servants, “Provide me now a man who can play well, and bring him to me.” Then one of the servants answered and said, “Look, I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, who is skillful in playing, a mighty man of valor, a man of war, prudent in speech, and a handsome person; and the LORD is with him.” Therefore Saul sent messengers to Jesse, and said, “Send me your son David, who is with the sheep.” And Jesse took a donkey loaded with bread, a skin of wine, and a young goat, and sent them by his son David to Saul. So David came to Saul and stood before him. And he loved him greatly, and he became his armorbearer. Then Saul sent to Jesse, saying, “Please let David stand before me, for he has found favor in my sight.” And so it was, whenever the spirit from God was upon Saul, that David would take a harp and play it with his hand. Then Saul would become refreshed and well, and the distressing spirit would depart from him.
-- 1 Samuel 16:14-23

A colleague of mine, Leonard, posted a question on facebook about the ways in which we view God, and he questioned why we seem to conveniently forget depictions of God as "wrathful" or "angry," and focus instead only on the loving nature of God. My colleague questioned whether there was a sort of misogyny in ignoring the wrathful side of God because anger is so often associated with the feminine. I have attempted to gather my thoughts on this subject here.

"This is a fascinating question and one I actually wrote a sermon about. One of the things people seem to frequently overlook about Jesus is the fact that he gets angry... a lot! There is of course the time that he turns over the tables in the Temple, which is probably the most memorable, but there is also the time that he curses a fig tree so that it does not bear fruit. And don't forget how many times he outright called the Pharisee and Sadducees stupid! However, whenever I have pointed this out in Bible study or some similar situation, it's usually brushed off as 'Oh that's just the human part of Jesus, not the God part.'

"What gets me about it is there is no specific reason that the anger is attributed to the humanity of Jesus and not the divinity. There is plenty of evidence in the Hebrew Bible of God being angry; therefore anger is quite evidently a quality that belongs to God. I think that our describing God merely with phrases of love and comfort is in fact avoiding the truth: God is not always loving and is in fact quite capable of anger."

In response to this post, I was reminded by another poster that "anger is not always the absence of love." I responded to this comment in kind:

"I was not trying to imply it was; in fact I would agree with you completely. Love and anger exist independently of each other, and both can co-exist. However, the typical understanding of God is that God does not get angry at his followers, sine qua non, and I think this is a false supposition. Anger in love is in fact very common in the Old Testament. Perhaps one of my favorite stories is when God gets angry at Saul because he does not live up to God's expectations of him; Saul does not live up to his own potential, and because of this God actually sends an evil spirit to plague Saul. Is this anger without love? I think not; it is anger because of love.

"And as for the idea that there is an inherent misogyny in referring to God as only loving, I think one must consider what value is assigned to God's anger. Is God's anger virtuous or shameful? There is a sort of binary in cultural understandings of how anger should be expressed. In men, it is perfectly acceptable to show anger, so long as it is not excessive and as long as it seems reasonable. As soon as a woman displays anger, however, she is immediately labelled as 'unstable' or 'crazy.' Would we be so bold as to claim that God's anger demonstrates instability or insanity? I do not have a satisfactory answer to this question. I can see the misogyny that you imagine, Leonard.

"Another thought: when there are descriptions in the Bible of God's love for his people, it is often described in feminine imagery: a suckling breast, a cradling mother, a protective hen. What is the implication of this?"

These are just my quick thoughts on the subject, and I hope to update with more as the conversation continues.

Theology of the Body

For we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink...Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.

-- 1 Cor 12:13,27

I take the title of this post from a series of lectures given by Pope John Paul II, exploring the theological implications of the human self. I have not yet gotten a chance to read this series of lectures (which have since been compiled into a book), though I look forward to the occasion. I am writing this post because a thought crossed my mind as I was at the gym this evening, after about 19 minutes of running, and though the thought is not completely developed, I felt it was important to share.

The gym fascinates me, because it is a room filled with people who are so focused on their workout that they do not seem to communicate with anyone around them. In fact, it seems to me that it is considered somewhat rude to look at other people while they are exercising, perhaps because of the delicate nature of exercise: most people exercise to improve their own bodies, due to the perception that one's own body is imperfect in some way.

I wonder about the negative reinforcement that is at work in the gym. I personally have struggled with workout routines in the past because of my self-consciousness. I am terrified that everyone is looking at me while I run on the elliptical or lift weights. I am prone to sweating profusely, and I am not in the best shape physically. This self-consciousness sharply contrasts with how I feel about my own body while I am exercising. The process of burning calories and working up a sweat improves my self-esteem like nothing else. Even though I often look terrible and feel sticky after a good workout, I feel at my best physically and mentally, like I could take on the world.

So what would it mean for me if someone else at the gym looked over and smiled? Would such an experience affirm my own self esteem and body image in a way that smiles in any other context do not? I am also a proponent of physical contact, usually in the form of hugs. What would it mean for me if someone hugged me while I was at my sweatiest, without seeming disgusted by it?

My question comes from the nature of the human body, as laid out by the Bible and Christian thought. There are two main ways to think of the human person. The first way considers the person to be made up of two completely separate parts: a holy, perfect, immortal soul, and a fleshly, imperfect, mortal body. The second manner of framing the person is to consider that the body and soul function as one unit, neither more perfect than the other. The first viewpoint implicates the fleshly body as something that is unholy and should be denied; the second viewpoint glorifies the fleshly body and celebrates it.

My own personal theology rejoices in the beauty of the human body, whatever form it comes in. I am ashamed of the self-consciousness I feel in my every day life. In what ways can I affirm the glory and sanctity of the body in my daily world?