My blog this week is a two-parter: the first is about sex segregation, and the second is about an interview on Oprah I saw this week.
Part One:
“The basic premise is that boys and girls learn in different ways. Separating classes by sex provides an environment in which boys and girls can be taught in the way which best suits their gender.” I found this statement in the opinion section of The Daily Reveille on Monday, November 23rd, and found so many things disturbing about the article entitled “Is sex segregation actually progress for our schools?” The article explains that the American Civil Liberties Union has filed a lawsuit against the Vermillion Parish School Board. Apparently, the parish has deemed that the segregation of sexes in the classroom is actually a good thing, and that it encourages this practice amongst its students, despite the fact that the students have the option of choosing to be segregated based on their sex. When did public schools go backward in their teaching methods? I can remember being in middle school and wanting to do better than everyone, no matter their gender, but I certainly didn’t want to be separated from the boys to advance myself.
From what I can gather from the Reveille article, the argument in favor of sex segregation is thus: because boys and girls learn differently, separating them based on their sex, not their educational merit, will help them to learn better and at their own pace. I fear that this argument only encourages the “boys versus girls” mentality that we’ve all been engaged in since preschool, and which we’ve striven to eliminate for years. Isn’t it mentally healthy for male and female students to learn in the same environments, as each gender can gain something from the other? I can’t seem to understand why a public school system would actually want to separate the genders in the classroom. The cynical part of me would say that the school board believes that boys learn faster than girls, and separating the two genders allows for the boys classes to be taught at a faster pace, leaving the girls in the dust and thinking that they are actually less-than competitive in a man’s world. I am not consoled by the article’s statement that the advocation for sex segregation is “based on a set of stereotypes of what an average boy or girl is interested in and how he or she should best be taught.” Can Vermillion Parish please go back and look at the immense progress women have made in being taught the same subjects as men?
Part Two:
I was watching Oprah this week and her guest was ex-porn star Jenna Jameson. Oprah had Jenna on the show to talk about her career in the adult entertainment industry and how she is now retired, and living as a wife and mother. Jameson’s articulate answers to Oprah’s questions gave me a new light on which to look at her. Jameson explained that while she was in the industry, she wanted to beautify the content and make it more real for the viewer, giving them a more visceral experience. When asked how many partners she’d been with, Jenna explained that she never wanted to be intimate with more than 5 men in her entire career, and I found that absolutely shocking considering the amount of films that she had made. She’s the world’s most recognizable “porn star,” and she stated, very matter-of-factly, that her partner in the majority of her films was her husband.
Now that Jenna is retired, she is a mother to two boys, both of a younger than toddler age. Oprah addressed the fact that one day Jenna will have to answer her boys’ questions regarding their mommy’s old job as a sex symbol. Teary-eyed, Jameson stated that she only wants her boys to look at her as a loving mother who made a career for herself, being very in-control of her status. She doesn’t want her boys to think of her as a slut or a whore, but rather as an unconventional businesswoman. I found this to be completely admirable. For a woman to be in such a position of power in the adult industry, Jameson was, and is, certainly at the top of her game.
Cheers,
Patsy
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Rape Warfare and "Ruined"
I have studied the issues surrounding warfare in the Democratic Republic of Congo for some time now. Going into the reading of Nottage’s play, Ruined, I was not unaware of the concept of “ruined women” and “genetically mutilated” women. I dare say that many of us in the class are aware, or have heard of this phenomenon that is sweeping war-stricken Africa, and I also will venture to say that those of who are aware of this assault against women have something to say about it. My questions of late are these: when did women’s bodies become the battlegrounds on which men fight their wars? How many women will these monstrous assailants attack and mutilate until they are satisfied?
“Rape as an instrument of warfare.” These are scary words for anyone to hear, and it’s even scarier for those women who are directly affected by it; the raped women, the ruined women. In combination with my fear for these women and for their future, I am also deeply saddened. I am overcome with sadness and despair, despite the notion that Nottage’s Ruined gave me something to smile about; the final scene gives hope. (While I was reading the play, I couldn’t help but remember the portions of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues which deal with female mutilation and rape warfare. However, Ensler’s input comes mainly from what she calls a “Vagina Fact,” a segment in The Vagina Monologues giving facts about genital mutilation. ) However, the entire play leading up to the final scene is full of sadness, which lets you know that it’s real. This stuff is really happening, and we only remember it when we read about it or when it’s in the news. How is this not a concept that is forever in our minds as women? Do we even know if mutilation and “female circumcision” is a phenomenon occurring in America right now? I, for one, have no clue if its happening in our own backyard, and I’m worried. Frankly, I think that our minimal fund of knowledge about these women in Africa, or lack of publicizing it at the very least, is a bit irresponsible. There are those around me who say that publicizing these acts would only be representative of Americans trying to put our nose into everything anyone else is doing (similar to other situations into which we have gotten ourselves), and that we should just stay out of it and focus on what’s at hand. These are women who are telling me to keep quiet and to mind my own business! Excuse me, but no!
It’s a scary thought to carry around with someone. To think that there are current generations of women and girls waiting to be raped and then to be used, abused, and then thrown away to die is horrifying. The idea of spreading information about these crimes against women is not lost on me, nor is it put to the side by other women who have come before me. Plays like Ruined need to be produced en masse for further education, in my opinion. It’s not the only way that this education can be spread, but it’s a damn good start. The ones most likely to take action are those who are actively pursuing attending artistic functions, like the theatre, and these activists are the ones who get things done. I thoroughly hope and believe that there will be a point in my life where the “ruined” women will be safe once again, and not have to worry about when her next predator is going to walk through the door.
Cheers,
Patsy
“Rape as an instrument of warfare.” These are scary words for anyone to hear, and it’s even scarier for those women who are directly affected by it; the raped women, the ruined women. In combination with my fear for these women and for their future, I am also deeply saddened. I am overcome with sadness and despair, despite the notion that Nottage’s Ruined gave me something to smile about; the final scene gives hope. (While I was reading the play, I couldn’t help but remember the portions of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues which deal with female mutilation and rape warfare. However, Ensler’s input comes mainly from what she calls a “Vagina Fact,” a segment in The Vagina Monologues giving facts about genital mutilation. ) However, the entire play leading up to the final scene is full of sadness, which lets you know that it’s real. This stuff is really happening, and we only remember it when we read about it or when it’s in the news. How is this not a concept that is forever in our minds as women? Do we even know if mutilation and “female circumcision” is a phenomenon occurring in America right now? I, for one, have no clue if its happening in our own backyard, and I’m worried. Frankly, I think that our minimal fund of knowledge about these women in Africa, or lack of publicizing it at the very least, is a bit irresponsible. There are those around me who say that publicizing these acts would only be representative of Americans trying to put our nose into everything anyone else is doing (similar to other situations into which we have gotten ourselves), and that we should just stay out of it and focus on what’s at hand. These are women who are telling me to keep quiet and to mind my own business! Excuse me, but no!
It’s a scary thought to carry around with someone. To think that there are current generations of women and girls waiting to be raped and then to be used, abused, and then thrown away to die is horrifying. The idea of spreading information about these crimes against women is not lost on me, nor is it put to the side by other women who have come before me. Plays like Ruined need to be produced en masse for further education, in my opinion. It’s not the only way that this education can be spread, but it’s a damn good start. The ones most likely to take action are those who are actively pursuing attending artistic functions, like the theatre, and these activists are the ones who get things done. I thoroughly hope and believe that there will be a point in my life where the “ruined” women will be safe once again, and not have to worry about when her next predator is going to walk through the door.
Cheers,
Patsy
Histories and Herstories
I was particularly nervous about writing my history piece; mostly because I had no idea where to begin the story. My first drafts were about my family, and while they serve their purposes in regards to my history, they weren’t the ones living it, and so I had to rewrite the entire piece to be about myself. This is where the hard thinking came in. How do I write about my past, when I can’t remember some of it, or it wasn’t that significant to perform, and how, then, do I incorporate elements of gender and sexuality? The answer came to me as I was walking through CVS. In thinking about how I have varied my views on gender and sexuality, I remembered our class talking about stereotypes, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Softball has to be the most sexually-stereotyped sport for females, followed only by basketball. I’ve played both, often during the same year but in each other’s off season, and I am quite familiar with the stereotypes associated with each. Softball seemed to hold more weight for me, though.
So I began thinking during our presentations what it must have been like for each of us to define our own sexuality and gender. Watching Alex give his presentation was interesting, as he had to come up with his own view without any assistance growing up. It struck a chord with me. I was fortunate enough to grow up with a mom and a sister telling me how to act like a lady, but I also had a dad to teach me how to be different with it; how to be a different kind of woman. Nichole’s slide show had a different tune to it, though. When she began with the slides of pinup women in “womanly” professions, I was a little put-off, thinking that it really used to be like this. Women really did have to submit to being either a teacher, a housewife, or a secretary and be at the whim of the man in control. I think that the choice to “teach” us that her own theatre teacher was different was a good segue. I don’t remember having many male teachers growing up, and that influenced me a little into thinking that teaching was, in fact, a woman’s profession. How, then, was it to change, and who was to do so? Nichole’s teacher obviously proved to her that teachers come of any gender, and that we, ourselves can be teachers, even without a classroom.
Returning to theatre, though, makes me think of Rebecca’s reading of her diary to us. Frankly, keeping a diary has always been a personal interest of mine, and listening to Rebecca read aloud from hers was a delight. I particularly enjoyed watching her tell her story of how theatre got her through one of the worst times in her life, and to have that written down is even more extraordinary. What stands out to me, though, is the fact that she played Lady Macbeth, a notoriously bitchy role, and it was fun to think of her playing that character. I wonder what that meant to her and her own definition of gender. Did playing “Lady Macbitch” aide her in re-defining her concept of the powerful woman and how that woman can get through her own particular tragedy? And then there’s Rosa; Rosa with her wooden statues marking her progression through her dance years. At first, I was a little scared by the statues. Listening to her defense of them however, made more sense than them just being creepy wooden dolls. She became the woman that she is through her dance training, and that, to me is significant. She played the dancing girl role well, and I was the ball player, which brought me to the conclusion that we are all products of our environment, as we are all rather aware, and it is that which shapes us into the people we are today.
Cheers,
Patsy
So I began thinking during our presentations what it must have been like for each of us to define our own sexuality and gender. Watching Alex give his presentation was interesting, as he had to come up with his own view without any assistance growing up. It struck a chord with me. I was fortunate enough to grow up with a mom and a sister telling me how to act like a lady, but I also had a dad to teach me how to be different with it; how to be a different kind of woman. Nichole’s slide show had a different tune to it, though. When she began with the slides of pinup women in “womanly” professions, I was a little put-off, thinking that it really used to be like this. Women really did have to submit to being either a teacher, a housewife, or a secretary and be at the whim of the man in control. I think that the choice to “teach” us that her own theatre teacher was different was a good segue. I don’t remember having many male teachers growing up, and that influenced me a little into thinking that teaching was, in fact, a woman’s profession. How, then, was it to change, and who was to do so? Nichole’s teacher obviously proved to her that teachers come of any gender, and that we, ourselves can be teachers, even without a classroom.
Returning to theatre, though, makes me think of Rebecca’s reading of her diary to us. Frankly, keeping a diary has always been a personal interest of mine, and listening to Rebecca read aloud from hers was a delight. I particularly enjoyed watching her tell her story of how theatre got her through one of the worst times in her life, and to have that written down is even more extraordinary. What stands out to me, though, is the fact that she played Lady Macbeth, a notoriously bitchy role, and it was fun to think of her playing that character. I wonder what that meant to her and her own definition of gender. Did playing “Lady Macbitch” aide her in re-defining her concept of the powerful woman and how that woman can get through her own particular tragedy? And then there’s Rosa; Rosa with her wooden statues marking her progression through her dance years. At first, I was a little scared by the statues. Listening to her defense of them however, made more sense than them just being creepy wooden dolls. She became the woman that she is through her dance training, and that, to me is significant. She played the dancing girl role well, and I was the ball player, which brought me to the conclusion that we are all products of our environment, as we are all rather aware, and it is that which shapes us into the people we are today.
Cheers,
Patsy
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