Monthly Archives: October 2005

A note on Tough Bunnies and Feminism

Posted on by

Jessica at Feministing posts about this Washington Post article: Tough Bunnies.  Apparently, the language used to describe Playboy centerfolds has changed in recent years, or so claim James Beggan and Scott Allison in a recent issue of the Journal of Popular Culture (not available online). Jessica quotes from the Post:

Beggan and Allison…found a pattern to the way that Playboy’s wordsmiths described the women who graced the magazine’s centerfold. They were typically strong, career-oriented, aggressive and, in a surprising number of instances, downright "tough." Adjectives suggesting vulnerability, submissiveness or passivity appeared less frequently.

Jessica summarizes her reaction:

OK, but is the text describing the Playboy models really what men are paying attention to? If a woman is posed in a vulnerable an submissive position in her picture, I think that’s going to trump any “aggressive” text descriptions.  (Bold in the original).

I’ve never been a fan of Playboy, though Lord knows, I’ve given many a lecture on the magazine.  I’ll assume that Beggan and Allison are right, and that in recent years Playboy has begun to use new and more "empowered" language to describe the Playmates.  But it’s hardly news that pornographers have appropriated feminist language, of course.   The question is, why are they doing it?

Presenting an image of Playmates as tough, independent,and ambitious serves several purposes.  For one, it can be part of (feeble) attempt to suggest that feminists should be untroubled by Playboy, as it’s clearly possible for the educated, the articulate, and the powerful to pose.  The tougher the models are made out to be, the more difficult (presumably) for those of us who loathe Playboy to argue effectively that the magazine exploits the young and the vulnerable.

More importantly, I think, it is a very subtle and very clever way of co-opting male anger at the feminist movement.   It’s no secret that there are a heck of a lot of guys in this country who are befuddled by what they see as rapidly changing gender norms.  Many of them (see the MRAs who troll here) are enraged at the modest success that the feminist movement has had in integrating women into business, politics, academia, and the traditional male trades.    When I talk to many guys about gender issues, I find a troubling undercurrent of deep anger at women and the feminist movement that is extraordinarily strong.  And of course, that rage is directed not at the vulnerable and powerless, but at the women whom these guys perceive to be the source of the problem: the ambitious, the career-oriented, the "tough" gals who have muscled their way into traditional male-only areas of public and private life.

But as Jessica suggests, stripping the Playmates naked and having them recline submissively niftily and deliberately undercuts the very power that the text trumpets to the "reader." Men who are angry at beautiful women for not allowing them access to their bodies, and men who are angry at powerful women for their successes, can gain a kind of revenge by seeing the beautiful and the powerful stripped, exposed,and prone for their enjoyment.  For most men, that’s the payoff of porn — the opportunity to reclaim power over women by focusing on them as submissive, pleasing bodies rather than autonomous human beings.  Playboy always suggests that the Playmate is just like the "girl next door" whom young (and not so young) men fantasize about.   Today, the "girl next door" may make more money than you, Playboy says, but underneath her clothes, she’s still an object for you to lust after and (if only in your dreams) control and bend to your will.

One of the most tired and misogynistic narratives in heterosexual porn is of the seemingly uptight, powerful "career woman" who initially rejects the protagonist.  When he takes her by force, her powerful veneer is literally stripped away, and she ends up revealed as a sexually insatiable submissive who just needed "a good hard fuck" to find her true femininity.    Playboy doesn’t explicitly include the rape narrative, but by stripping the apparently powerful and professional, they cleverly play on the dark male fantasy of "getting even" with those "uppity women" who in the modern world seem to be increasingly overstepping their bounds.

Yuck.

Reunion review: a note on memory, myopia, and grace

Posted on by

I’m back in the office with several hundred midterms to grade over the next ten days.  My goal is to have them all returned by Thursday, November 3.  This means that grading, appropriately, will have to take precedence over posting!

My wife and I spent Saturday and Sunday up in Carmel, where we attended various events connected with my twenty-year high school reunion.  (And before I go any further, may I say my wife was absolutely heroic.  Indeed, all spouses and partners who go to entire reunion weekends deserve special medals!)

Saturday afternoon, we went to the Homecoming football game (the "Padres" are a lot better this year than we were when I was a student, and posted a satisfying shutout.)  Saturday night, about 50 members of the class of 1985 ( a good third of our small graduating class) gathered for snacks and drinks on Cannery Row; yesterday, we had a family picnic (complete with a rented bouncy castle) in Carmel Valley.  I’ll see if I can’t put some photos up later this week.

It was a remarkable experience.  I did not go to my ten-year reunion in 1995, so this was the first time I had seen many of my classmates in two full decades.  Anyone who has gone to such a reunion will surely know the sense of shock at seeing vaguely familiar faces, now already lined with wrinkles and the signs of twenty well-lived years.  A few were instantly recognizable, but in most cases, I had to use the name-tags we all wore.  (Without name-tags, it would have been very difficult!)  Very few people recognized me instantly either, so I didn’t feel too bad about stumbling over people’s names.

One of my friends, knowing I was going up to Carmel this past weekend, asked me about my real motives for attending the reunion.  "Are you going to show off, Hugo?", he asked.  This friend knows what I looked like in high school (a sample pic provided here).    I may now be a solid ENFP, but when I took Myers-Briggs in high school, I was a clear INFJ.  Some personality traits can be changed over time, I assure you.  What that means, for folks who hate all of these letters, is that I was very much a shy, chubby,  unathletic, geek. (That may not be true of all INFJs, but it was for me.)  Now, by no means am I any less a "geek" today at 38 — it’s just that I’ve dealt with overcoming the "shy" and the "unathletic" !  So yes, there was a significant part of me that did want my classmates to see how much I have changed,  both in terms of my body and my personality.   

But I did not go to the reunion merely to seek validation. My real reason was a driving curiosity to see whether my classmates had made the same kind of physical, emotional, and spiritual changes that I have made in the last twenty years.  I cannot begin to tell you how gratifying it was to see just how many of those with whom I went through school (some I saw this weekend I had known since second grade) had become interesting, kind, fun people.  Because I was never a popular kid in high school, I had the customary resentments directed towards the cooler, more popular boys and girls.   I’ll admit that when I was a teenager, like many bookish and shy kids, I imagined myself to be a better (or at least a deeper) person than many of my classmates.  Even then, I didn’t like the way I responded to teasing with comforting thoughts of my own superiority. 

Yesterday afternoon, as I talked with other ’85ers and watched their many small children play, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction.  I chatted with real estate developers and airline pilots; stay-at-home moms and nurses; fellow teachers and ranchers.  (Parenthetically, what many folks don’t realize about Carmel is just how rural the school district is.  Most folks only know the affluent beach area — but Carmel’s students are more likely to come from horse and cattle ranches in the Valley than they are from the multi-million dollar properties on the water.   In terms of an ethos, we’re more Ford F150s and boots than BMWs and loafers).  And as I talked and listened, I was humbled by the sense of grace I felt wash over me.  Kids whom I remembered as popular and aloof and ineffably cool were now doting, loving moms and dads, fumbling with sippy cups and wiping their children’s drool off shirts and blouses.  We talked less about what we were like in high school and more about our lives today.  Since we are all the same age (38), we’re all, more or less, struggling with similar issues.  We talked about mortgages, infertility, day care and school districts; we talked about aging parents, our own battles with skin cancer, and about our looming fortieth birthdays.  We talked about how busy our lives were.

The glory of this reunion, for me, was not that I got a chance to "show off" the new Hugo (and, of course, his beautiful new wife.)  The glory was that I got to see my classmates, finally, as human beings.  I had been so intimidated and so awed by so many of them when I was that shy, introverted teen.  I had seen "jocks" and "preppies" and "cowboys" and "cheerleaders", but I hadn’t seen human beings.  I had felt abused and picked on, but I never realized how badly — even cruelly — I stereotyped my fellow students when I was in high school.  This weekend, more than twenty years after I left high school, I was able to see these same people and rejoice in the kind, fun, interesting human beings that they had become.  Heck, I realized that perhaps they had always been those things, and I, in the special narcissism of the high school loner, had just been too judgmental and myopic to see them for who they were.

I was humbled and touched by my experience this weekend. I don’t know that I’ll keep in touch with many of my classmates; I’ll probably only speak to most of them again when we gather (grayer, older, wiser, gentler) in 2015 for our thirtieth.  But whether I see them or not in the next ten years, I left the reunion weekend with warm and affectionate feelings for all of them.  Perhaps it’s just sentimentality that has me feeling this way, but I’d like to think it’s grace  – - the grace that has allowed me, after two decades, to put some old demons to bed and embrace unconditionally some truly wonderful folks whose essential goodness and complexity I have only now begun to see.

Be well, Carmel High class of 1985.

Of Bogota and backsides

Posted on by

Friday noted things:

1.  My wife and I are in the early stages of planning our third trip to her mother’s native Colombia for sometime next year.   In addition to the wonderful time we’ve spent with her family on their finca in a remote and rural part of Cesar province, we’ve enjoyed our two previous visits to Bogota immensely.   Thus I was struck by this story (hat tip — to of all people — the Nice Guys); apparently, the mayor of Bogota has decided to name only women as his "minor mayors", each overseeing one of the massive city’s diverse and fascinating neighborhoods:

On Aug. 6–as flags emblazoned with the words "The Right to Rule With Tenderness" flew from the old palace that houses city hall–Mayor Garzon appointed the women to all 20 of the minor mayor posts.

In the last administration, six of Bogota’s minor mayors were women. But this time the mayor–who says he wants to clean up corruption–decided to appoint only women to the posts. For an explanation he cites a pro-woman bias. He says women have a reputation as straightforward and effective administrators and that women will be more honest in assessing public bids for city contracts.

"Regarding bids, women inspire confidence," Garzon told El Tiempo, Colombia’s main daily. "They make up more than 50 percent of the Colombian population and they are very sensitive to social policies."

Though I’m not happy about the way the "tenderness" bit reinforces a very traditional stereotype, it’s a bold and interesting experiment.  When we visit next year, we’ll ask around and see what the locals think.

On a related note, Bogota’s progress stands side by side with with Colombia’s abortion laws, among the most restrictive in the world.

2.  I’m happy to report that this morning, I did my first "double-digit mileage" trail run in the Angeles Forest.  As I continue to heal from my calf injury sustained on September 12, I can feel my strength and endurance returning.  It’s nice to be able to run long again — all the bicycling, swimming, and Pilates in the world cannot compensate for the ecstatic high that pounding the trails can bring!   Once an addict, always an addict; it’s just nice to have such a healthy addiction.

I can report, happily, that all the time on the bike recently has begun to slowly "build my butt."  I have a stereotypical "white man’s backside", the sort that lean dudes are prone to, and the running hasn’t helped it.  Biking does.   No one will ever say that "Hugo got back", but my Trek and I are helping make things a little less flat back there.

I know you all wanted to know that.

Off ’till Monday.  Lots of long posts this week, and I need a break.

MRAs, documentaries, “assaults” –UPDATED

Posted on by

I did not watch the PBS documentary "Breaking the Silence: Children’s Stories" that aired last night. I can say that my inbox has been filled with mail from MRAs and father’s rights groups, all of whom lobbied PBS (unsuccessfully) to get the documentary pulled off the air. Lots of posts about the film can be found at Trish Wilson’s place, and she links to this newspaper review of the documentary.

My friend and polite adversary, Glenn Sacks, sent out this email alert earlier this week; Glenn calls the film an "assault on fatherhood."

Though I haven’t seen the film, I’m troubled that Glenn — and his fellow MRAs — use the verb "assault" in this context.   It may be a film whose ideological commitments are at odds with MRA doctrine; it may not parrot the father’s rights activist line — but it is not, under any circumstances, an "assault."  All of us who work on issues of gender justice, domestic violence, and sexual harassment are obligated to speak out against the pervasive habit of using words like "assault" and "bashing" to describe the work of our movement.

One of the most unpleasant tactics of the Men’s Rights Movement has been to appropriate "victim language".  MRAs talk incessantly about being "assaulted", either literally by women or figuratively by a court system that they see as hopelessly biased in favor of mothers.  They call women’s studies courses exercises in "man-bashing", even though they cannot name a single incident where a man has been physically assaulted in such a class!  It’s a smart tactic on their part, as it allows the primary perpetrators of violence against women to claim to be the real victims. 

Outside of a few spectacular cases, it’s difficult for MRAs to document what they claim to be the widespread practice of women’s physical abuse of men in American society.  As a result, they use words like "assault" to describe PBS documentaries.  In doing so, they unwittingly (or perhaps quite intentionally) minimize the suffering of the real — and overwhelmingly female — victims of very real physical and sexual assaults.

Language matters!  As a women’s studies professor, I’ve made the effort to purge certain catch phrases like "patriarchal oppression" and "male privilege" from my public vocabulary.   These phrases describe important realities, of course — but they also are easily misinterpreted as the tired rhetoric of a movement well past its heyday.   I find it helpful to make the language of pro-feminism as jargon-free as possible; I still have work to do in that regard.  That said, I wish my friendly adversaries on the MRA front would leave loaded and precise words like "assault" out of a discussion of documentaries, and save it for real incidents of real violence.

UPDATE:  Glenn writes me an email to stress that the goal of his campaign was not to get PBS to pull the show, but to provide father’s rights groups the opportunity to respond on air with their version of the issue.

The Clitoris and Corinthians

Posted on by

I posted this morning about the happy compatibilities between vibrant faith and activist pro-feminism.  I believe everything I wrote, of course, but sometimes, sometimes, sometimes… I wander into what I worry are unfortunate contradictions.

This will be long:

My lecture in women’s history this morning was about nineteenth century attitudes towards women’s sexuality.  It’s the same lecture I wrote about in this April 2004 post.   In addition to talking about clitoridectomies, and the shift to the "medicalization of morality", we wandered on to the topics of sexual ethics, masturbation and "contingent happiness."  (Hey, they were awake and interested, and I was on a caffeinated roll!)  We talked about the difficulties 19th century medicine had with the clitoris, as it represented women’s capacity for their own pleasure, unrelated to either a man’s delight or (at least directly) to reproduction.  We talked about the biological determinism problem: if all of our sexual organs are for reproduction, and sexual pleasure is about reproduction, why is the clitoris placed to be easily reached by a woman’s fingers — but not by a man’s penis during intercourse?  (I did not suggest that this was a problem to be solved, rather that it threw the proverbial "wrench in the works" of many 19th century theories!)

I shared with my students the classic feminist argument (ala Betty Dodson et al) that the clitoris is symbolic of women’s right to pleasure and fulfillment without being dependent upon another person.  While traditional sexual mores, and a considerable amount of religious teaching, stress that our sexual happiness ought always be contingent upon relationship with another (usually our spouse), some feminist theory sees the clitoris as the small, powerful, and physical manifestation of the larger truth that women as well as men have the capacity for pleasure "uncontingent" upon another.  The anti-masturbation screeds of the 19th and 20th centuries have always emphasized that our sexuality is not our own, that it belongs to God and our spouse.  The clitoris, with no direct function other than a woman’s delight, stands (sorry!) in stubborn defiance of the notion that our sexual happiness should always be contingent upon relationship with another.  In a very real sense, one can thus argue that female masturbation is an inherently feminist act!

At the same time that I say all this, teach all this, and believe all this, I’ve got 1 Corinthians 7:4 (which I mentioned in this morning’s post) running through my head:

The wife’s body does not belong to her alone but also to her husband. In the same way, the husband’s body does not belong to him alone but also to his wife.

I’ve loved that line from Paul for two reasons.  One, as a pro-feminist, it is a reminder of radical equality in marriage.   Men and women both surrender their autonomy over the most precious part of themselves, and they are to do so equally.  It’s a nice counter-balance to other areas where Paul seems to imply the superior position of the husband in the family. 

But I also like the verse because it reminds me that in Christian marriage, we are called to live sacrificially for one another.  This doesn’t just mean sexually; as Cait points out, it’s 1 Corinthians 7:4 that allows her to have veto power over her husband’s desire to do dangerous things, like ride a motorcycle without a helmet.  It’s what gives my wife the right to demand that I see a doctor when I am ill; it is not merely my body that is ailing, but hers as well.   At its best, this ideal summons up a magnificent image of devotion, reciprocity, and mutual care.  It’s both deeply romantic and profound holy, and as a newly married man, I find it inspiring.

I don’t lecture to my women’s studies students about Pauline images of marriage!  My lectures in class are classically feminist in their emphasis on the notion that women’s overarching right to pleasure, individual happiness, autonomy and independence is the sine qua non of the movement.  In my marriage, however, and in my faith life, I’ve long since given up the notion that autonomy and personal pleasure ought to be the highest goals for myself or anyone else.  To the best of my clumsy and sinful ability, I am embracing sacrificial living.  My sexuality is no longer my own; I did surrender it to my wife as she surrendered hers to me.  We are not each other’s jailers, mind you, but we are committed to a joint vision of sexuality that is ours (rather than hers, or mine).  No, I’m not sharing any more details than that, but I can say it is a practice that is modeled on what I read in Paul.

So what do I want for my students of both sexes?  I suppose I reconcile the secular feminist ideal of autonomy and the Christian ideal of sacrificial loving in my own mind by suggesting that the former is a necessary precursor to the latter.  After all, we can only really give to another what we first know to be ours! Thus, I think I believe (note the hesitancy in my tone) that a healthy model of sexual development encourages young people, boys and girls alike, to take ownership of their sexuality and delight in their own bodies as sexual creatures.  They will experience their bodies as their own, a gift of God for their own wonder and delight.  I hope they will do so without shame.  Then, after a suitable period (which will vary from person to person), my hope is that they will find one person to whom they can make a lasting commitment.  In the safe and loving context of that commitment, they will offer their sexuality — their very body — as a gift to their partner.  They will live out the vision of 1 Corinthians 7:4 regardless of their individual religious beliefs.  Their sexuality will be freely and lovingly surrendered to a partner who offers his or her sexuality in return.

Is this hopelessly muddled?  Is my psychology of the human person woefully defective? Am I mixing secular morality with Scripture and ending up with an incoherent mess?    Or does it make as much sense to anyone else as it seems to to me?

Do I post too much about my doubts?  Do I post too much, period?

Time for a short lunch break.  Jello awaits, and that is a happy thought.

One more note on Christianity and Feminism

Posted on by

Lots and lots of good discussion in response to the post a week ago about why some young women reject the feminist label (and, indeed, many of the most basic tenets of feminism).   Livredor has a long post here, for example, that’s worth reading.

We’ve had almost 150 comments on last Thursday’s post, but I wanted to respond to the most recent one, from Caitriona (who, happily, has come back to commenting).    I had written:

"Long-term societal change may start on the inside, but it has to manifest in public commitments to others. To call oneself a feminist is to acknowledge a commitment to something more than yourself and your immediate family and friends. It’s the only way to bring about enduring change."

Cait replied:

Not necessarily. Why do we have to label ourselves as "feminist" or "MRA" or whatever in order to show that we are committed to something more than ourselves and our immediate family and friends? Some people may need those labels, but not all of us do. For ME, that commitment is wrapped up in my commitment to follow Christ’s teachings. My intention is to do my best to follow the teachings found in Matthew 25, which Menno Simmons paraphrased so well in 1539:

"True evangelical faith cannot lie dormant. It clothes the naked, feeds
the hungry, comforts the sorrowful, shelters the destitute. And serves
those who harm it."

Using that as a guideline as I strive to follow Christ, why do I also need a politically correct socio-ethic label?

Even after leaving the Mennonite church more than a year ago, I’m still a sucker for anyone who quotes the early Anabaptists, especially Menno!

I’ve heard from many, many folks, that true Christianity renders organized feminism unnecessary.  (At least, that’s what they say if they admit that feminism and Christianity aren’t antithetical to one another!)  If people are really following Christ, the argument goes, then sex-based injustice, harassment, and inequity will all vanish.   Feminism, particularly in its secular manifestation, is seen by too many Christians as placing brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, in opposition to each other. Feminism, it’s widely but falsely believed, distracts from the more important work of building the kingdom and living out the "true evangelical faith" that Menno so powerfully describes.

I’m also aware that evangelical Christians (I use evangelical here in its broadest sense, to indicate depth of spiritual commitment rather than a narrow subset of Protestants) and secular feminists have a legacy of mutual mistrust. Too many Christians see feminism as a rights-obsessed ideology that emphasizes individual happiness at the expense of communal obligations;  too many secular feminists see Christian theology as hopelessly patriarchal, dismissive of women’s needs and concerns, and fundamentally hostile to the leadership gifts that so many women possess.   These reciprocal prejudices run deep.  And for someone who, like myself, calls himself a servant of a servant God and a committed feminist, the false perception that I am embracing irreconcilables troubles me deeply!

Though Christ’s church has served the poor and clothed the naked and fed the hungry and visited the prisoner for nigh on two millenia. we have also had done so while consistently ignoring the remarkable gifts of our mothers, sisters, wives and daughters.  Far too many churches have excluded women from leadership, thus robbing both those individuals and the entire congregation of the unique and valuable talents that women can bring to the pulpit.  Far too many churches have, while serving the poor and preaching peace, also tolerated (and some still tolerate) the systematic physical and sexual abuse of those same wives and sisters and daughters.  Far too many churches have used the words of Paul in Ephesians 5:22, and ignored the obvious — that Paul’s real understanding of God’s design for marriage is found one verse before, and in the radical reciprocity of 1 Corinthians 7:4.

Feminism and Christianity are not competing ideologies that demand that in the end, the believer choose one over the other.  God and money may be two masters who cannot both be served,  but passionate evangelical faith and an equally passionate belief in women’s radical equality are not.  I honor Caitriona’s commitment to that living, vibrant, humble, servant faith that involves trying (however imperfectly) to follow Him.  But I also believe that in the process of building His Kingdom, we are called to make alliances with some who may not share the particulars of our theology, but who share our common goals of justice, peace, and radical inclusion.

When we call ourselves "Christians", we tell the world what our highest priorities are.  It is to be hoped that in our speech, thoughts,and actions, we will make clear that humble service and generous, unconditional love are the hallmark qualities of what we mean by Christian.  But while we call ourselves Christians, we are not called to NOT call ourselves anything else.  One can be a Christian and a Republican, a Christian and a Democrat, a Christian and a Cal football fan, a Christian and a devotee of jazz.   As a monotheistic people, we are to have no Gods before Him — but that doesn’t mean that we can’t have other passions, other interests.  And it doesn’t mean, more importantly, that we Christians can’t learn some very valuable truths from other ways of seeing the world. I believe that feminism, with its essential insistence that women be seen as active agents rather than passive vessels, with its insistence that women’s voices be heard rather than silenced, is at its heart deeply compatible with the values that Jesus embodies and calls us to live out in our own lives.

As I’ve said and said again, Christianity is a very, very big tent.  I share that tent with my heroes, past and present: everyone from Hildegard of Bingen to the aforementioned Menno to modern-day folks like Ron Sider, Rosemary Ruether,  and Tony Campolo.  I also share that tent with the Borgia popes, John Knox (sorry, my Presby friends, he ain’t no hero of mine), and the likes of Benny Hinn, Pat Robertson, and John Macarthur.  Every one of these names is the name of a Christian. I am inspired by the first set and embarrassed by the second, but the fact that I disagree so vehemently with the second set of names doesn’t mean I am ashamed to wear the label "Christian!"

Feminism is also a very, very, big tent.  I share that tent with a litany of heroes, past and present, from Mary Wollstonecraft to Mary Daly, Susan Anthony to Susan Faludi, Carry Nation and Carrie Chapman Catt.  In that big tent belong the women of Feminists for Life; in that tent belongs the late Andrea Dworkin; in that tent belongs Elizabeth Fox Genovese and Eleanor Smeal and so many, many others.  Just as Christianity is — perhaps sadly — divided by denomination, there are many different and divided feminisms.  But, despite these differences, all who call themselves by this name share a public and passionate commitment to justice and equality for women.  I’m not scared off from the name "feminist" by those who also use that label but do not share my views.  And I am saddened that so many of my sisters are.

I was a feminist before I became a Christian.  But before I became a Christian, my feminism was hollow, shallow, and hypocritical.  My public language was of equality and justice, while my private behavior was one of exploitation, objectification, and masculine narcissism. I was raised with the belief that men and women were equal, but it was only when I came to Christ that I was empowered to act on that belief.  My spiritual rebirth helped me to match my language and my life.  I came to see that feminism was about the bedroom as well as the boardroom; it was about the words I used when I hung out with my guy friends as well as the words I used speaking to a class filled with young women. 

My feminism informs my faith, just as my faith has taken my feminism from the superficial shell it once was and made it an integral part of who I am.  I do not expect all feminists to be Christians, or all Christians to be feminists, but I do reject the notion that to be one means one cannot be the other.