Feminism is NOT a Four-Letter Word.

Feminism as the F-word.

Tell me why the word “feminism” has such a bad connotation? Is it because when the average person thinks of “feminism,” said person almost automatically responds with the reaction that the “feminist” they are talking to is more than likely a ball-busting-man-hating-she-dog who burns her bras and doesn’t practice personal hygiene? This is a question that has bothered me for about as long as I’ve been advocating for my rights as a woman in my own, personal life. I don’t know why men (I say “men” because this is typically the demographic that reacts in the above fashion) respond to my feminism in a similar way that they would if I was a leper.
When did feminism become a four-letter word? Did it happen at the turn of the 20th century circa women’s suffrage? Maybe it came to pass that feminism was an evil conspiracy against men during the second wave, when women were breaking out from under the patriarchal thumb of society and leaving the kitchen to go out into the world. Acceptance is the first step to understanding, and in the case of women’s rights or feminism or whatever term you choose to employ, understanding is key.

I am a feminist, and have been for several years. I read feminist literature by Elizabeth Wurtzel, Richards and Baumgardner’s collection of essays from Bitch magazine in a book titled Bitchfest, and I wholeheartedly agree and try to live by the manifesta. Does this make me a man-hating-she-dog? No. It means that I feel like I’m educated enough to understand where the animosity towards feminists comes from. In my experience, the negative vibe towards feminists comes from men, who, unfortunately, still feel that men are on top of the chain of command, and are reluctant to share, equally, their power in society. Those of whom I speak like the patriarchal society in which this country predominantly lives, and are fearful of losing their place. The status that men in power in this society enjoy likens back to the playground, singing “I’m the king of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal.” This translates back to today and refers to the feeling of empowerment that men share at the top, because they worked hard to get where they are. But what happens when a woman works just as hard, and manages to get her foot in the door of the castle at the top of the playground? An inquiry as to her abilities and judgment goes into session, makes national news for a few weeks, only to come to the conclusion that was known all along: that the woman in question is just as qualified as the man.

It is a brilliant work of liberal feminism here. A woman strives for equality with men, but finds resistance from the opposition, and only after much determination on the part of the woman does she gain access to the boys’ club. It’s not too much to ask for a bit of equality, especially when it comes to politics, is it? Feminists of all degrees can work as hard as we can to gain so little; and for men to provide only resistance, the goal of equality is further out of reach. It takes an understanding of where women are coming from and a disposal of the negative connotation of the word “feminist” in order for us, as women, as people, to gain what we truly desire. I feel that feminism should be a positive thing in the eyes of society, and that it is up to both sexes to maintain whatever equality we manage to achieve.

Cheers,
Patsy

'Night, Mother and Dysfunctional Relationships

I’d like to make a few comments on the play ‘Night, Mother.

I first began to notice that the relationship between Jessie and Mama was strangely unhealthy when the following exchange occurred:
Mama: “You don’t have to take care of me, Jessie.”
Jessie: “I know that. You’ve just been letting me do it so I’ll have something to do, haven’t you?”
Mama: “I don’t do it as well as you. I just meant if it tires you out or makes you feel used…” (1316)
We have, once again, an example of what appears to be a symbiotic relationship between mother and daughter up until this point. However, when I put Mainardi’s tools to work here, there is the key phrase of “I don’t do it as well as you” put into play, making Mama the parasite. She, much like Mainardi’s fictional husband-type, has been sucking away at Jessie’s hard work, and Jessie knows exactly what is happening. In her own way, Jessie is cutting Mama off from the niceties that she (Mama) has become accustomed to. Jessie is not asking Mama to take on some of the workload, but she’s merely telling Mama that Jessie just isn’t going to do it anymore, what with her being dead and all, and Mama goes into shock. We see that Mama is two-natured, for lack of a better term. She is the nurturing mother toward an epileptic daughter, but had to be the father figure to Jessie when her father was gone. This example shows how Mama is more male-centric.
However, Mama, being the mother that she is, also reveals that she does have some motherly tendencies during the following exchanges:
Mama: “All right! I wanted you to have a husband.”
Jessie: “And I couldn’t get one on my own, of course.”
Mama: “How were you going to get a husband never opening your mouth to a living soul?. . . I married you off to the wrong man. . . Cecil might be ready to try it again, honey, that happens sometimes. Go downtown. Find him. Talk to him. He didn’t know what he had in you” (1321).
Here, Mama is, for all intents and purposes of her world, doing her job as a mother. She wanted Jessie to live a normal life with a husband and a baby, which she eventually got with Cecil and Ricky, respectively. In a desperate attempt to understand why Jessie would want to kill herself, Mama makes a mistake in thinking that the whole ordeal of Jessie’s suicide is about a man. What I find ironic, however, is that because Mama has more masculine attributes in this relationship, Jessie does, in fact, have a problem with the “man” in her life. Mama is all she has and Jessie knows that this is not enough for her. So, is this a feminist play or a play about a dysfunctional relationship? In my opinion, it’s both. Jessie is a liberated woman by the end of the play, and we know that the relationship is dysfunctional- at least, according to societal norms- due to the fact that Jessie is taking care of her mother, and then abruptly ends her life, thus stopping the care for her mother. I find that the play has another level of “cool things to notice and pick up on” when one reads it thinking of Mama as gender-neutral (I say gender-neutral because of my arguments that Mama has both male and female attributes). Having never read this play before, I find myself wanting to add ‘Night, Mother to my feminist literary canon, and- while probably not holding it on a pedestal- making it a good reference point in the future.

Let's Get Real, Here

Foreward: I am currently taking a class called "Women and Theatre," and, coincidentally, we have to post blogs on our school's forum once a week. I figured I might as well share what my thoughts are with you who happen to a) be women and b) like theatre and c) appreciate both. Here was my post from this last week:

As a studier of people, I particularly enjoy observing how we dress in accordance with what we perceive to be proper for our gender. These observances bring me to one question: Do clothes really make the [wo]man?
In regards to the article by Judith Lorber and her discussion on “doing gender,” I have to wonder if the way we dress falls into this action. Are women subtly re-doing their gender if they should dress more masculine? Are women more “manly” if we wear big tee-shirts and cargo shorts, or do we still hold onto our femininity by fixing our hair just so? When I see women wearing clothes that would typically be considered to be “men’s clothes,” I just happen to think that the woman in question must be awfully comfortable. There doesn’t appear to be anything masculine about her from first glance, and perhaps what she is wearing was the first outfit that happened to be clean that morning.
Why are women who wear men’s (read: comfortable) clothes considered to not be doing right by their gender? I don’t think that women lose any of their femininity by not conforming to these social constraints that women should always be presentable. I think it’s too much to live up to, these norms set forth by our mothers and grandmothers before us. “Dress nicely,” “Don’t slouch,” “Always look your best,” are guidelines that I, at least, was subjected to in my early youth, and frankly, it doesn’t make any sense to me. Okay, maybe the slouching part is reasonable, but the rest of it baffles me. How do I act differently than feminine if I’m not in a skirt and a blouse? I am still doing my gender by existing as a woman. It is not the way I dress that defines who I am as a woman. What should it matter anyway? We’ve been taught since adolescence that “it’s what on the inside that counts.” Shouldn’t that be enough to help us understand and accept what is feminine? I think it’s enough.
So, no, I don’t think that clothes make the woman. We are women by how we are as people. Society should not have the audacity to dictate what classifies as “feminine” by the typical and glamourized images of a well-dressed woman. Take the following for example: I like to watch the red carpet coverage before award shows. Due to an increase in celebrity image, many of the television stations have their “red carpet fashion coverage LIVE” before the award ceremony, and a multitude of hosts interview the nominees and ask them what they’re wearing. What the interviewees are unaware of until the re-airing begins is what the show hosts are saying back at the studio regarding many of the females are wearing. They’re judging what is feminine versus what isn’t, and typically, to me, the more “feminine” and “clean-lined” ensembles look the least comfortable. The hosts use the converses “masculine,” and “frumpy,” to describe the outfits that aren’t as flattering to the feminine shape. I find this strange. There somehow seems to be an understood connection between the words “comfortable” and “masculine,” whereas “comfortable” and “feminine” don’t seem to match up often enough. Why must there be a difference? On the superficial levels of gender distinction, I say let’s start, not blurring the lines per se, but by incorporating more of the similar structures from each gender, and help us all be more comfortable with ourselves.
Some days a woman just wants to be comfortable, and if that means baggy tee-shirts, three-day-old jeans, and no make-up, so be it.

Cheers,
Patsy