Dear Representatives of the American People, A word, if you will:
You sit oh so proudly in your house surrounded by others of like mind and bandy about ideas on how the people, society, should act and conduct itself. You are protected by voters and campaign funds, thinking only of your personal agenda. Lately there has been much talk about federally governing the distribution of birth control, ending the availability of abortions, and thusly forcing women in some states to undergo a PROBING to get an abortion, even in cases of rape or incest. It's appalling to think that one day, potentially in this year, an election year, my rights and rights of choice can be snatched away. I don't want to think what will happen to future generations of women if this restriction and wanton control of individuals is allowed to continue. There are men like Gingrich, Santorum, and Romney walking this earth claiming they know what's right for Women because they say so. I disagree. I asked my vagina what she thinks, because I've been hanging with her for 22 years now, and I want to know her opinion on how we run. This is what she wanted me to tell you, America:
Stay the fuck out of me. You've never met me. You don't know what I want and what I need. I've never wanted to be raped, but the idea of you "Representatives" wanting to strip me of my rights and right of choice sure fucking feels like I'm being raped.
So stay the fuck out of my business, get out of my tubes, and let me be. You may be feeling threatened because I want to abort the potential next president of the US; but if that potential president thinks like you, then he or she deserves to die. You don't control me.
Showing posts with label Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women. Show all posts
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Talks With The Moon
Hey Stranger
Mr. Man in that moon.
Long time no see
No, don't make me cry, moon.
It's both our fault.
But, look at my hands.
They're full of you again.
You and that light, sweet moon.
Remember filling my hands, my palms
with the light and love you
promised me?
It got there, you know.
That warm light stopped and settled
and filled my hands
with a matching set.
Ten fingers that fit so well there's
electricity.
Fire, heart, passion and
love, love, love.
That pool of moonlight I was once
reflected in touched my soul.
Saw my secrets and my
deeds for four years.
Forgive me my sins, moon.
May your moonbeams absolve me
of my wrongs from so much time
spent running through that field.
Dishonoring your gifts to me
Spreading myself too thin to be full.
I didn't want to be full.
Couldn't be loved
Didn't deserve to be loved.
And when I woke up in that field. That Field
four years deep of my mistakes
I found arms
around me.
Enveloped in love that could only
have been given by you.
Love by moonlight.
I found arms that held me.
Here are my hands, moon.
Fill my palms with the light
I once saw, that show me
the pathway to the life and love
I know now.
Let the moonlight guide me to my
next step.
Mr. Man I know you hear me.
Hear me now and take my hands,
my body, my soul
once more
to the reflecting pool.
Love grounds
but moonlight soars.
Mr. Man in that moon.
Long time no see
No, don't make me cry, moon.
It's both our fault.
But, look at my hands.
They're full of you again.
You and that light, sweet moon.
Remember filling my hands, my palms
with the light and love you
promised me?
It got there, you know.
That warm light stopped and settled
and filled my hands
with a matching set.
Ten fingers that fit so well there's
electricity.
Fire, heart, passion and
love, love, love.
That pool of moonlight I was once
reflected in touched my soul.
Saw my secrets and my
deeds for four years.
Forgive me my sins, moon.
May your moonbeams absolve me
of my wrongs from so much time
spent running through that field.
Dishonoring your gifts to me
Spreading myself too thin to be full.
I didn't want to be full.
Couldn't be loved
Didn't deserve to be loved.
And when I woke up in that field. That Field
four years deep of my mistakes
I found arms
around me.
Enveloped in love that could only
have been given by you.
Love by moonlight.
I found arms that held me.
Here are my hands, moon.
Fill my palms with the light
I once saw, that show me
the pathway to the life and love
I know now.
Let the moonlight guide me to my
next step.
Mr. Man I know you hear me.
Hear me now and take my hands,
my body, my soul
once more
to the reflecting pool.
Love grounds
but moonlight soars.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Designer Vaginas?! You've Got To Be Kidding, Right? Right!??
From: Designer Vaginas-Simone Weil Davis
“Labiaplasty [. . .] trimming away labial tissue and sometimes injecting fat from another part of the body into the labia that have been deemed excessively droopy” (287). When I first read this description of the procedure, my own vulva clenched up in fear. I can’t understand why women want to have this procedure done, though reasons have been given; women claiming that they want their labia to be prettier, more like the labia they see in pornography, and less ugly. Less like one’s personal anatomy and more like a mass-produced good readily available at your next doctor’s visit. How can a woman think her labia are “abnormal,” when they’re what she was born with? From my perspective, nip/tucking one’s labia is more akin to female genital cutting and female circumcision than making it more aesthetically pleasing. Who has the right to decide what is and isn’t “normal” in terms of a vulva’s appearance?
When Congress passed the criminalizing of circumcising a minor female in 1996 (290), the congressional leaders should also have taken into consideration the rise of the popularity of plastic surgery amongst females at that time. An insightful person could have suspected that labiaplasty would be the closest procedure to female genital cutting, but only slightly crossing the border from cosmetic surgery. The anti-FGO laws make mention of the “rituals” and customs of cutting African immigrant bodies and criminalize them (290), but cosmetic surgery in that specific area isn’t even approached. It’s still legal for a doctor to tell his female patient that her labia are droopy, unappealing, and above all, unsexy. This same doctor then goes on to advise his patient to get the wholly unnecessary procedure. I’m likening labiaplasty to FGOs in African countries because of the amount of pressure women feel to have this procedure done in order to please men. In America, some women believe that if they have their labia tightened up just a little, then men will be jumping into these women’s beds, enjoying their new physiques. However, in those still existing African countries where female circumcision is still okay, it’s encouraged, if not enforced by law. In both of these patriarchal societies, the ideal for feminine beauty now goes so far down below the waist; it has even struck women where they live. A woman’s vulva (all parts included) used to be her own, at least in America. In Africa it’s been such a tradition for women to be circumcised at a young age, that it’s actually abnormal if the procedure isn’t done. Why, then, are American women submitting to this tribal-like attitude men are projecting that women’s labia should be tight and pretty, and it’s a woman’s job to please the men in her life, so she must get labiaplasty? Though there, clearly, are women who claim that they are nip/tucking their way to a happier and more comfortable lifestyle, the question still remains where they got the information and idea about these surgeries in the first place. It’s more than likely that some male driven fantasy that needed to be executed planted the seed of idea. I’d like to conclude by agreeing with the following quote from Davis: “it is imperative that both consent issues and vaginal modifications themselves be considered on a continuum that is not determined along hemispheric, national, or racial lines” (293). Essentially, ladies, take a look at what’s really going on when thinking about having your pussy cut up and tightened, even just a little bit.
“Labiaplasty [. . .] trimming away labial tissue and sometimes injecting fat from another part of the body into the labia that have been deemed excessively droopy” (287). When I first read this description of the procedure, my own vulva clenched up in fear. I can’t understand why women want to have this procedure done, though reasons have been given; women claiming that they want their labia to be prettier, more like the labia they see in pornography, and less ugly. Less like one’s personal anatomy and more like a mass-produced good readily available at your next doctor’s visit. How can a woman think her labia are “abnormal,” when they’re what she was born with? From my perspective, nip/tucking one’s labia is more akin to female genital cutting and female circumcision than making it more aesthetically pleasing. Who has the right to decide what is and isn’t “normal” in terms of a vulva’s appearance?
When Congress passed the criminalizing of circumcising a minor female in 1996 (290), the congressional leaders should also have taken into consideration the rise of the popularity of plastic surgery amongst females at that time. An insightful person could have suspected that labiaplasty would be the closest procedure to female genital cutting, but only slightly crossing the border from cosmetic surgery. The anti-FGO laws make mention of the “rituals” and customs of cutting African immigrant bodies and criminalize them (290), but cosmetic surgery in that specific area isn’t even approached. It’s still legal for a doctor to tell his female patient that her labia are droopy, unappealing, and above all, unsexy. This same doctor then goes on to advise his patient to get the wholly unnecessary procedure. I’m likening labiaplasty to FGOs in African countries because of the amount of pressure women feel to have this procedure done in order to please men. In America, some women believe that if they have their labia tightened up just a little, then men will be jumping into these women’s beds, enjoying their new physiques. However, in those still existing African countries where female circumcision is still okay, it’s encouraged, if not enforced by law. In both of these patriarchal societies, the ideal for feminine beauty now goes so far down below the waist; it has even struck women where they live. A woman’s vulva (all parts included) used to be her own, at least in America. In Africa it’s been such a tradition for women to be circumcised at a young age, that it’s actually abnormal if the procedure isn’t done. Why, then, are American women submitting to this tribal-like attitude men are projecting that women’s labia should be tight and pretty, and it’s a woman’s job to please the men in her life, so she must get labiaplasty? Though there, clearly, are women who claim that they are nip/tucking their way to a happier and more comfortable lifestyle, the question still remains where they got the information and idea about these surgeries in the first place. It’s more than likely that some male driven fantasy that needed to be executed planted the seed of idea. I’d like to conclude by agreeing with the following quote from Davis: “it is imperative that both consent issues and vaginal modifications themselves be considered on a continuum that is not determined along hemispheric, national, or racial lines” (293). Essentially, ladies, take a look at what’s really going on when thinking about having your pussy cut up and tightened, even just a little bit.
Friday, February 12, 2010
"Prodigal Sons"- The Oprah Show
You've read my rantings about tv talk shows before. You've read my writings on what it means to do right by one's gender. Now, you get both:
Yesterday, as I was watching the end of the Ellen DeGeneres Show, I was caught mid-step by an advertisement for the Oprah show immediately following Ellen. The commercial promised viewers a look into the life of a transsexual/transgendered male to female. I was awestruck at the story being presented right there on national television, not out of offense, but out of the story’s content. Of course, I stopped right where I was and continued for an hour to watch Oprah dig into this person’s life. Here is Kimberly, nee Paul, on Oprah’s couch talking about her past life as a high school star quarterback, valedictorian, and all-around “golden boy.” In Paul’s mid-twenties, he had moved to San Francisco to pursue other sexual pursuits than were considered appropriate in his Montana home and he underwent sex reassignment surgery to become Kimberly. She showed clips of her documentary detailing the events of her life as a boy and now as a woman, which also included footage of her family, who held differing opinions amongst themselves about Kimberly’s current life.
Let’s take a look at Paul’s high school achievements: He was the quarterback on the football team, incredibly popular, and valedictorian; he was a leader, but never felt quite right in his own body. Was Paul simply “doing his gender” (as Lorber would put it) by participating in these activities and succeeding at them? Some would say that he was acting the way a straight, white, male should in a small town in Montana. How then, can his personal feminine feelings be incorporated to his “doing gender” as a male? There was no middle ground for him. Paul felt inherently female throughout his entire life, and it wasn’t until he had escaped his hometown that he could pursue his goals as a woman. Which gender was he supposed to perform as before his reassignment surgery? Though he was born biologically male, he had played that part already. In exploring his “feminine side,” he was now “doing” that gender and felt better about it. The question then arises to ask whether or not Kimberly was doing her gender, since she was not biologically born as a woman? How did she know how to act or perform in everyday life? Did this knowledge stem from whatever Paul had learned in his lifetime, and if so, does that mean that Paul wasn’t doing his gender properly since he felt female?
Lorber says “Every society classifies people as ‘girl and boy children,’ ‘girls and boys ready to be married,’ and ‘fully adult women and men’” (143). Kimberly doesn’t exactly fit into this stratification. Lorber continues to argue that between the two genders, there are certain roles and characteristics applied to each, and yet Kimberly defied such social norms and constructions when she underwent her surgery. While many theorists/scientists/educators emphasize these stratification separations as necessary components of daily life, there are those like Kimberly who defy such ideals. Anne Fausto-Sterling, in her essay “Two Sexes Are Not Enough” states that “if the state and legal system has an interest in maintaining only two sexes, our collective biological bodies do not” (140). I think Fausto-Sterling is absolutely correct in her statement, especially when it applies to trans-gendered/sexual people, because for a moment these individuals are, at a minimum, two genders at once. Which one should they do?
Yesterday, as I was watching the end of the Ellen DeGeneres Show, I was caught mid-step by an advertisement for the Oprah show immediately following Ellen. The commercial promised viewers a look into the life of a transsexual/transgendered male to female. I was awestruck at the story being presented right there on national television, not out of offense, but out of the story’s content. Of course, I stopped right where I was and continued for an hour to watch Oprah dig into this person’s life. Here is Kimberly, nee Paul, on Oprah’s couch talking about her past life as a high school star quarterback, valedictorian, and all-around “golden boy.” In Paul’s mid-twenties, he had moved to San Francisco to pursue other sexual pursuits than were considered appropriate in his Montana home and he underwent sex reassignment surgery to become Kimberly. She showed clips of her documentary detailing the events of her life as a boy and now as a woman, which also included footage of her family, who held differing opinions amongst themselves about Kimberly’s current life.
Let’s take a look at Paul’s high school achievements: He was the quarterback on the football team, incredibly popular, and valedictorian; he was a leader, but never felt quite right in his own body. Was Paul simply “doing his gender” (as Lorber would put it) by participating in these activities and succeeding at them? Some would say that he was acting the way a straight, white, male should in a small town in Montana. How then, can his personal feminine feelings be incorporated to his “doing gender” as a male? There was no middle ground for him. Paul felt inherently female throughout his entire life, and it wasn’t until he had escaped his hometown that he could pursue his goals as a woman. Which gender was he supposed to perform as before his reassignment surgery? Though he was born biologically male, he had played that part already. In exploring his “feminine side,” he was now “doing” that gender and felt better about it. The question then arises to ask whether or not Kimberly was doing her gender, since she was not biologically born as a woman? How did she know how to act or perform in everyday life? Did this knowledge stem from whatever Paul had learned in his lifetime, and if so, does that mean that Paul wasn’t doing his gender properly since he felt female?
Lorber says “Every society classifies people as ‘girl and boy children,’ ‘girls and boys ready to be married,’ and ‘fully adult women and men’” (143). Kimberly doesn’t exactly fit into this stratification. Lorber continues to argue that between the two genders, there are certain roles and characteristics applied to each, and yet Kimberly defied such social norms and constructions when she underwent her surgery. While many theorists/scientists/educators emphasize these stratification separations as necessary components of daily life, there are those like Kimberly who defy such ideals. Anne Fausto-Sterling, in her essay “Two Sexes Are Not Enough” states that “if the state and legal system has an interest in maintaining only two sexes, our collective biological bodies do not” (140). I think Fausto-Sterling is absolutely correct in her statement, especially when it applies to trans-gendered/sexual people, because for a moment these individuals are, at a minimum, two genders at once. Which one should they do?
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Women and Theatre
Here are the Holidays. These days we are constantly being reminded to be thankful for what we have and for our close friends and families, and to be aware and thoughtful of those less fortunate than us. Well, I’d like to use this, my last blog posting for the semester, to discuss what I’m thankful for in terms of women and theatre. The course of this semester has brought me to a greater understanding of how women in the business of show (that is, theatre) act and react to one another. I have read and thought about arguments between women theatre artists, playwrights, actresses, and historians, and have come to a rather simple conclusion: we’re all in theatre to say something. My final question of all that I’ve raised this semester is this: what are we trying to say?
I really think that what women in the theatre are trying to say that we count, too. Whether the woman in question is a playwright, theorist, or standard spectator, we’ve had a lot of firsts already, and it’s high time that we be included in the masses. Of course, I’m not advocating for complete submergence into the theatre culture to where we become mere atoms in the theatre universe. Rather, being counted means to be accepted as equals, just as in the rest of the world. As women, we are fully capable of holding arguments with one another that don’t necessarily result in bitchy catfights (an example of an exception would be the lovely words exchanged between Sue-Ellen Case and Holly Hughes) and unnoticed work. The women who have come before us have demonstrated their enormous talent, but it, for some reason, has to have its validity questioned by the men of the canon in order to be considered good, even mediocre. It’s unnecessary proverbial red tape that is blocking women from being counted, and should be discarded.
I’m thankful for the fact that I get to be among this changing of the guard in terms of theatre. I am seeing further advances being made, as well as learning the pasts of the women who have come before me. I am extraordinarily grateful that I am more aware of women writers, because I know that there is something to be said for them, and that is this: despite what the established canon thinks, these women, to me, have a kind of creative genius in them that millennia of men have only been able to dream of and it scares them. These women know themselves and their peers; they probably write men better than men can. An unidentifiable number of men have been trying to write women for at least as long as there have been cave drawings, and they can barely get it right, bless their hearts. I’m thankful that I have a place in the theatre, and that today I am accepted based upon my merit and only a little bit by my gender. To the women whom we have studied this semester: Thank you for helping me to understand that I, too, can be counted among theatre artists. Thank you for writing and performing; for debating over what is right, universal, and canonical; for not giving a damn about what your male peers will say and writing for and about women; for being an agent of change; and for teaching me that I do not belong to the hegemonic ideal of theatre. I’m a woman, I’m different, and sometimes everyone around me should really just accept that, and maybe listen to what I have to say; because what I have to say is damn important.
Cheers,
Patsy
I really think that what women in the theatre are trying to say that we count, too. Whether the woman in question is a playwright, theorist, or standard spectator, we’ve had a lot of firsts already, and it’s high time that we be included in the masses. Of course, I’m not advocating for complete submergence into the theatre culture to where we become mere atoms in the theatre universe. Rather, being counted means to be accepted as equals, just as in the rest of the world. As women, we are fully capable of holding arguments with one another that don’t necessarily result in bitchy catfights (an example of an exception would be the lovely words exchanged between Sue-Ellen Case and Holly Hughes) and unnoticed work. The women who have come before us have demonstrated their enormous talent, but it, for some reason, has to have its validity questioned by the men of the canon in order to be considered good, even mediocre. It’s unnecessary proverbial red tape that is blocking women from being counted, and should be discarded.
I’m thankful for the fact that I get to be among this changing of the guard in terms of theatre. I am seeing further advances being made, as well as learning the pasts of the women who have come before me. I am extraordinarily grateful that I am more aware of women writers, because I know that there is something to be said for them, and that is this: despite what the established canon thinks, these women, to me, have a kind of creative genius in them that millennia of men have only been able to dream of and it scares them. These women know themselves and their peers; they probably write men better than men can. An unidentifiable number of men have been trying to write women for at least as long as there have been cave drawings, and they can barely get it right, bless their hearts. I’m thankful that I have a place in the theatre, and that today I am accepted based upon my merit and only a little bit by my gender. To the women whom we have studied this semester: Thank you for helping me to understand that I, too, can be counted among theatre artists. Thank you for writing and performing; for debating over what is right, universal, and canonical; for not giving a damn about what your male peers will say and writing for and about women; for being an agent of change; and for teaching me that I do not belong to the hegemonic ideal of theatre. I’m a woman, I’m different, and sometimes everyone around me should really just accept that, and maybe listen to what I have to say; because what I have to say is damn important.
Cheers,
Patsy
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Sex Segregation and Porn Stars: A Two-Part Blog
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
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
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
Thursday, October 29, 2009
My Mom is Obsessed
I want to talk about my mother and the fact that she has become completely obsessed with her body image. First, in order to fully explain this phenomenon, I have to give a little backstory: My parents have been married for 23 years, albeit sometimes unhappily, and my mother had three kids. In that time span, she has constantly had a struggle with her weight, and countless doctors have told her to lose the extra poundage she’d gained.
This past March, my father had hip surgery, and my mother’s nervous system went into shock. Constantly fretting over dear ole dad, she didn’t eat, drank as much Raspberry Ice-flavored Crystal Light as she could get her hands on, and was running up and down two flights of stairs tending to my dad dozens of times a day. Now, how do you think this kind of activity affects a 55 year-old woman’s body? Exactly; she dropped her extra weight like it was no big deal. First it was a few pounds here and there, then she couldn’t fit into her old jeans anymore, and then, the best part of this story, is that her diabetes even started to show signs of backing off. She called me about a week ago to tell me that she now fits into a size 6 in Old Navy skinny jeans. Skinny Jeans on a 55 year-old mother of three!! How does this happen?
My father has since recovered quite nicely from his hip surgery, but mom has finally learned how to dramatically change her lifestyle in order to keep up with dad, who began to change the status of his health many years ago, about when he hit 50. Mom and dad then showed me that they achieved the impossible: they went on a two-week trip for their anniversary-didn’t want to kill each other- and managed to not take two naps in one day. Because they changed their health patterns, they were able to see and do more during the day.
I have a point, I promise, and it is this: Instead of surgically altering her body, my mother has managed to look youthful just by having the day-to-day stress of taking care of my father after surgery. Most people would say that the stress would cause her to look more haggard and aged, but somehow, the woman has, once again, defied convention and improved her appearance. She managed to achieve a youthful appearance without Botox injections, pilates, or extreme fasting. I commend her on her improvement in physical appearance and inner feelings on life now, as she seems happy with herself, to say nothing of the fact that she’s proud of accomplishing that which has burdened her for years.
How, then, can we learn from my mother? I really don’t think it would be wise to allow ourselves to get to the extreme that my mother was, then have a significant other go under the knife and stress us out, no. Rather, let’s start taking care of ourselves now while we still have the wherewithal to do so. Let’s fight Breast Cancer, obesity, heart disease, and diabetes-all conditions that so readily affect women more often than men. Let’s prevent our bones from depleting and dissolving away. Let’s obsess about our body image, not from the outside, but from within. The outside appearance will come in time, but we have to work from the inside out first. We have to know and be aware of what’s happening inside us in order to fully understand how the outside is going to change. From that, we can be like my mom: happy with who we are.
Cheers,
Patsy
This past March, my father had hip surgery, and my mother’s nervous system went into shock. Constantly fretting over dear ole dad, she didn’t eat, drank as much Raspberry Ice-flavored Crystal Light as she could get her hands on, and was running up and down two flights of stairs tending to my dad dozens of times a day. Now, how do you think this kind of activity affects a 55 year-old woman’s body? Exactly; she dropped her extra weight like it was no big deal. First it was a few pounds here and there, then she couldn’t fit into her old jeans anymore, and then, the best part of this story, is that her diabetes even started to show signs of backing off. She called me about a week ago to tell me that she now fits into a size 6 in Old Navy skinny jeans. Skinny Jeans on a 55 year-old mother of three!! How does this happen?
My father has since recovered quite nicely from his hip surgery, but mom has finally learned how to dramatically change her lifestyle in order to keep up with dad, who began to change the status of his health many years ago, about when he hit 50. Mom and dad then showed me that they achieved the impossible: they went on a two-week trip for their anniversary-didn’t want to kill each other- and managed to not take two naps in one day. Because they changed their health patterns, they were able to see and do more during the day.
I have a point, I promise, and it is this: Instead of surgically altering her body, my mother has managed to look youthful just by having the day-to-day stress of taking care of my father after surgery. Most people would say that the stress would cause her to look more haggard and aged, but somehow, the woman has, once again, defied convention and improved her appearance. She managed to achieve a youthful appearance without Botox injections, pilates, or extreme fasting. I commend her on her improvement in physical appearance and inner feelings on life now, as she seems happy with herself, to say nothing of the fact that she’s proud of accomplishing that which has burdened her for years.
How, then, can we learn from my mother? I really don’t think it would be wise to allow ourselves to get to the extreme that my mother was, then have a significant other go under the knife and stress us out, no. Rather, let’s start taking care of ourselves now while we still have the wherewithal to do so. Let’s fight Breast Cancer, obesity, heart disease, and diabetes-all conditions that so readily affect women more often than men. Let’s prevent our bones from depleting and dissolving away. Let’s obsess about our body image, not from the outside, but from within. The outside appearance will come in time, but we have to work from the inside out first. We have to know and be aware of what’s happening inside us in order to fully understand how the outside is going to change. From that, we can be like my mom: happy with who we are.
Cheers,
Patsy
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Daytime Talk Shows
My Issue with Daytime Talk Shows.
I like daytime talk-shows purely for the entertainment value that they provide so that I’m not reduced to watching overdone soap operas with recycled actors. That’s another story. With daytime talk shows, however, I get all the juicy celebrity gossip I need plus fifteen different recipes that can be made ahead of time that feed a family of five. But, wait. The rest of my family of five lives in another state. Can I still make these recipes? What about the family-fun arts and crafts specifically designed to get your kids ready for Halloween? I don’t have any kids, but can I still make the masks out of Popsicle sticks?
I’ve begun to recognize that the segments in these shows are becoming more and more oriented towards women with families who watch these programs. My latest talk-show craze, Rachael Ray, has, for the past two days, had on actresses with at least two kids apiece. The question inevitably comes up “How do you manage to have time for your family?” or the comment “And at the end of the day you go home to your family and kids.” What? Where is the juicy gossip that feeds my superficial need, Rachael? I realize that Rachael is a delight amongst many housewives and moms thanks to her 30-minute meals, but why is it necessary to always have a guest on the show who proudly wears her “mom hat?” I can remember growing up, before I started school, and watching daytime talk-shows with my mother, a stay-at-home mom. The shows we watched, like Rosie O’Donnell, Christopher Lowell, and Access Hollywood all contained what is now referred to as “mindless drivel,” were specifically targeted at viewers who weren’t necessarily family-motivated, and I loved it. Now the same type of shows are focused on keeping the family together and they seem to be forgetting that a large part of their demographic are single, unattached women, like myself. I don’t have a family, and I don’t often cook for five people, so how about focusing more on women like that, talk-shows?
Once concession, though. There was a show on, years ago, called “The Modern Girl’s Guide to Life.” It featured five women, three of whom were single and without families, and consisted of all kinds of information that a modern girl (read: single, unattached) should know in order to survive. This was a great show, and in my early to mid-teens I soaked up all kinds of information from that program, which has fortunately carried through to my early adult life. My next question is this, then: where are those kinds of programs now? I’ve already said that Rachael Ray has “fallen by the wayside” and targets her shows to the demographic of moms and housewives, but I’ve noticed that “The View” has gotten worse about it. (“The View” has always been a beef of mine, mostly because a few of the hosts are very close-minded, and somehow direct every conversation into politics.) Now one particular host, Elizabeth Hasselbeck, has gone so family-crazy it seems that she’s completely forgotten about the fact that some of her co-hosts are still not married or with kids. Hasselbeck disregards the single women in the audience and appears to me totally cloistered in her new role as mother, alienating all those whom she used to regard as equals. She’s not the only host to do this. Hosts who also happen to be moms cater their material to moms and families, as if what they’re presenting at 10:00am, be it ways to de-stress kids or money management, will be remembered at 3pm when the kids come home. All I’m asking for is just a little more attention to the single women out in daytime tv land. Remember, moms: you were once single, too.
Cheers,
Patsy
I like daytime talk-shows purely for the entertainment value that they provide so that I’m not reduced to watching overdone soap operas with recycled actors. That’s another story. With daytime talk shows, however, I get all the juicy celebrity gossip I need plus fifteen different recipes that can be made ahead of time that feed a family of five. But, wait. The rest of my family of five lives in another state. Can I still make these recipes? What about the family-fun arts and crafts specifically designed to get your kids ready for Halloween? I don’t have any kids, but can I still make the masks out of Popsicle sticks?
I’ve begun to recognize that the segments in these shows are becoming more and more oriented towards women with families who watch these programs. My latest talk-show craze, Rachael Ray, has, for the past two days, had on actresses with at least two kids apiece. The question inevitably comes up “How do you manage to have time for your family?” or the comment “And at the end of the day you go home to your family and kids.” What? Where is the juicy gossip that feeds my superficial need, Rachael? I realize that Rachael is a delight amongst many housewives and moms thanks to her 30-minute meals, but why is it necessary to always have a guest on the show who proudly wears her “mom hat?” I can remember growing up, before I started school, and watching daytime talk-shows with my mother, a stay-at-home mom. The shows we watched, like Rosie O’Donnell, Christopher Lowell, and Access Hollywood all contained what is now referred to as “mindless drivel,” were specifically targeted at viewers who weren’t necessarily family-motivated, and I loved it. Now the same type of shows are focused on keeping the family together and they seem to be forgetting that a large part of their demographic are single, unattached women, like myself. I don’t have a family, and I don’t often cook for five people, so how about focusing more on women like that, talk-shows?
Once concession, though. There was a show on, years ago, called “The Modern Girl’s Guide to Life.” It featured five women, three of whom were single and without families, and consisted of all kinds of information that a modern girl (read: single, unattached) should know in order to survive. This was a great show, and in my early to mid-teens I soaked up all kinds of information from that program, which has fortunately carried through to my early adult life. My next question is this, then: where are those kinds of programs now? I’ve already said that Rachael Ray has “fallen by the wayside” and targets her shows to the demographic of moms and housewives, but I’ve noticed that “The View” has gotten worse about it. (“The View” has always been a beef of mine, mostly because a few of the hosts are very close-minded, and somehow direct every conversation into politics.) Now one particular host, Elizabeth Hasselbeck, has gone so family-crazy it seems that she’s completely forgotten about the fact that some of her co-hosts are still not married or with kids. Hasselbeck disregards the single women in the audience and appears to me totally cloistered in her new role as mother, alienating all those whom she used to regard as equals. She’s not the only host to do this. Hosts who also happen to be moms cater their material to moms and families, as if what they’re presenting at 10:00am, be it ways to de-stress kids or money management, will be remembered at 3pm when the kids come home. All I’m asking for is just a little more attention to the single women out in daytime tv land. Remember, moms: you were once single, too.
Cheers,
Patsy
Friday, September 18, 2009
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
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
Thursday, September 10, 2009
'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.
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.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
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
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
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