I write too much tendentious, long-winded prose. I want to write like Chris Clarke, the subject of my most intense boy-crush/blog-crush. This post from Sunday on editing has me thinking and reflecting on how I can do better.
You look for an ending, and it is almost always obvious where that ending should be, and though the unpracticed often feel the urge to soften it, a good ending is of necessity abrupt.
Yeah, three divorces taught me that.
I’m dressed as Hugo Schwyzer for Halloween. T-shirt, eclectic jewelry, favorite jeans.
Regular commenter John Spragge, who blogs at Open Hand/Open Eye, has frequently taken issue with the way in which I make sweeping claims about feminism and the good life. He summarizes his criticism in this comment below Monday’s post:
I have three specific objections to Hugo’s presentation of his version of the “good lifeâ€: first, the implicit condescension and arrogance of one person or one culture setting themselves up as the arbiter of the “good lifeâ€, and ignoring or trivializing the presence, and the importance, of diversity in the world. Secondly, I just plain don’t accept that Hugo does not threaten people who differ from him. His proposal to adjust the rape laws, (see my comments to his post on “viralâ€), which happens to disadvantage people “wired†differently from him, certainly has some very threatening implications for those of us it might affect. Certainly, he does not renounce the possibility of using force to promote his ideas. And finally, he foists all this on feminism, without, as far as I can tell, bothering to consult women who need allies, and who might not want to have people who might support them told they should accept Hugo’s large, indigestible, “thick†vision of the good life as a price for supporting feminist ideas and principles.
Hugo: I don’t particularly agree with your view of the “Great Commissionâ€; I would urge humility on all missionaries. But whatever my reaction to missionaries, particularly the “gun and gospel†variety, at least they did not claim the authority to impose their own perceptions and claims; they spoke in the name of a Gospel they believed had the authority of divine revelation. They preached not their own conception of the “good lifeâ€, but what they believed God had revealed and commanded them to preach. Most of the vision of the “good life†that we read on this web-log has no such authority. Your message seems to me to boil down to the claim that we have an obligation to live a radically egalitarian life, and you, Hugo, a white man who can live his vision of the “good life†thanks in part to the genocide of the rightful owners of the land you live on, will tell us exactly what “egalitarian†means. I personally have not the slightest intention of swallowing this contradiction. If you make, explicitly or implicitly, accepting your ideas part of the “price†for supporting feminism, do you have the consent of the millions of women who do not remotely have your privileges, and who actively need allies?
Some of Spragge’s complaints are legit, some aren’t. If you read his comments below the post about “enthusiasm and consent”, he seems to come dangerously close to defending rape. Demanding that both consent and authentic enthusiasm be prerequisites for “right sex” sets the bar too high for him (he worries, at times, about how young men with Asperger’s are likely to get laid if we adhere to the “enthusiasm” standard.) I have no problem advocating for the “enthusiasm” ideal as a universal good and an indispensable prerequisite (among many, perhaps) for healthy sex, and Spragge’s doubts don’t carry much weight on the matter. Continue reading
So the discussion is spirited (if inclined to the anti-feminist ad hominem) below yesterday’s post on marriage and feminism. One anti-feminist does ask a question that deserves a better answer than I’ve given so far:
You’re in a “passionately feminist marriage� What does that even mean?
I gave my “row boat” description yesterday, and I’ve written before about the central importance of Ephesians 5:21 and the appealing notion of “mutual submission.” I’m aware, of course, that different people have different visions of what equality looks like. Many who do like the comfort of strict gender roles insist that their marriages also reflect equality, arguing that “equality doesn’t equal sameness.” I’ve seen some of those marriages, seen how they thrive, and I don’t disagree that they can be wonderful. And as we’ve discussed recently around here, it’s possible to have healthy, loving marriages in which BDSM plays an important role. That’s not my vision of domestic bliss, but there’s certainly more than one path to marital happiness.
But what do I mean when I say my marriage is “passionately feminist”? In the eyes of the anti-feminists, that may conjure up an image of a timid and fearful Hugo, walking on eggshells around his domineering wife, asking her permission for everything. Anti-feminists tend to think that any man who embraces real egalitarianism has essentially been emasculated, and has surrendered his capacity for action to his wife. Or perhaps they imagine that we have a little dry erase board in the kitchen, on which we keep track of how much time each of us has spent on domestic duties, in order to ensure that each of us is putting in precisely the same amount of effort as the other. And God only knows what the anti-feminists imagine about our bedroom. Perhaps they imagine my wife is some sort of dominatrix, or that our sexual behavior precludes penis-in-vagina intercourse, as that would indicate our acceptance of the “hegemony of the phallus.” Jeepers, the mind boggles at the possibilities!
So if none of that silliness is true, what is explicitly feminist about this marriage? For me, feminism is both a political ideology and a guideline for private praxis. (Similarly, my Christian faith gives me a “public theology” and a private moral code.) As my beloved brother says, we’re all called to “match our language and our lives”. Fighting for justice and inclusion in the world while being a domineering jerk at home is to have missed the point entirely. Obviously, my wife and I have a private life that is not open for public inspection. But even in our most intimate moments, even in the sacred space of our bedroom, we’re called to act in a way that is congruent with our values. Continue reading
This email came in yesterday from someone called YiddisheMama (YM):
Hello there, Mr Hugo,
I found your website while researching anti-feminist women’s groups. Just wanted to let you know that its not only younger females who are antifeminist. There are also older women like me (48) who have always been anti-feminist, in my case, actively so since my teen years. In the 1970s I volunteered with Phyllis Schlafly’s Eagle Forum/STOP ERA.
Why does it unnerve you so that so many females are against feminism, and see through the lies of it? Why does it bother you that so many of us had strong male role models in the persons of our fathers, and because of that, were able to do anything and be anything we wanted in life, dependent (sic) of feminism?
Do you even realize how sexist feminism is, because they say that women CANNOT achieve anything of importance without THEIR help? I never asked those women to do anything for me, and I resent their claim to represent me!
I have, over the last 32 or so years, noticed that the only women who are the most committed to feminism are women with poor relationships with the males in their lives. I’ve never had that problem; the men in my life (boyfriends, male friends, father, son, husband of 25 yrs so far)
have been nothing but good and helpful to me. I love men. So why would I join a movement that so often is perceived (and so often is) detrimental to the rights of men?
The post YM refers to is this one.
In any event, I sent a short reply back to YM, making it clear that I didn’t intend to convey the impression that it was only young women who held anti-feminist positions. I did take issue with her implication that “all feminists have poor relationships with men.” I wrote:
My wife, my mother and my sisters, who (for inexplicable reasons, seem to get along splendidly with me and other men) are stauncher feminists than I. True love can endure and thrive in a relationship with interchangeable gender roles. I live that out with my beautiful wife everyday.
To which YM replied this morning:
They get along with you well because you see things their way. Women always like men who are willing to follow their party’s line.
I repeat parts of what has been a civil exchange because I hear similar things from anti-feminist folks all the time. YM wrote to me because she bristles a bit at the implication in my post that most anti-feminist women were young. It certainly wasn’t my intention to convey the impression that women “of a certain age” couldn’t also be ardent anti-egalitarians, and if I did so, I’m sorry. But YM, like many anti-feminists, has no trouble judging the state of my marriage — or any heterosexual relationship grounded in feminist principles. Continue reading
A wonderful list of links indicating the true diversity of the feminist blogosphere, provided by Mandolin at Alas, A Blog. This blog and its predecessor get a couple of those links, for which I am grateful. And I’ve got some reading to do!
It concludes:
Feminism is for lawyers (lots and lots of lawyers), writers (lots and lots of them too), scientists, engineers, recording artists, professors, students, stay at home parents, veterans, ballerinas, and veterans who are also ballerinas. Feminists live on government assistance. They are poor, and middle class, and the kind of people who know the difference between OKOP and NOKOP.
Feminism is not about reaffirming every part of your identity, or of mine. Feminism is not about burning these things away, either. Privilege exists within discourses of feminism, but that does not invalidate the privileged or the underprivileged’s claim to feminism.
Feminism is not what I believe. Feminism is not what you believe. Feminism is Feminisms, many and varied.
If you want the links, visit the post.
This is the third post in a series that began with this one last Friday and continued on Monday of this week here.
The problem I’ve been writing about is perhaps not entirely unique to men, nor is it universal among them, even in our culture. But the problem — call it “numbness”, call it lack of resolve, call it a profound sense of disconnectedness from both the self and others — does seem to manifest far more often among men than women. Men, both as individuals and in groups, do far less healthy self-reflection than women do. To put it in terms that mytho-poetic types use, men do less “soul work” than their sisters. That doesn’t mean that young American women are growing up healthier, mind you, only that women are generally allowed more emotional resources to help them grow.
The first two posts were largely about sketching out the problem. Today, I’m offering some preliminary solutions. (I realize that in doing so, I’m part of a fairly large crowd: the “what’s wrong with boys and men today” sector is a fast-growing one in the media and publishing worlds.) Below Monday’s post, ballgame notes:
I think your suggestion that males need solely to ‘look within’ to combat the emotional consequences of this enforced isolation is rather like telling someone, “That poison is making you sick! Here, have some more.â€
Indeed. The kind of transformation we’re talking about here can’t be done in solitude, or at least not solely in solitude. The journey within is a difficult one, and it requires both guides and companions. To state the obvious, young men desperately need mentors. But the kind of mentors that they generally find in our culture aren’t much help in doing this work: a schoolteacher may make you a better history student, but won’t automatically help you go “deep and inside”. A basketball coach may make you a better foul shooter, but he won’t necessarily mentor you in developing a vocabulary for your inner emotional terrain. And your first boss may show you the skills you need in order to succeed in one particular job environment, but that boss probably won’t help you answer the existential “why” that explains what you’re doing there in the first place. Continue reading
I didn’t plan both #7 and #9 to show up here, and no, there’s no Oedipal theme at work this week. Or is there? #4 was my favorite song of 1993, a widely-held opinion that year. I listened to #9 over and over again on the plane back from Britain last month; it made me happy. #10 is my current favorite “soothe-me” song, and #6 is heart-breaking.
1. “A Question of Lust”, Depeche Mode
2. “I’d Be Better Off in a Pine Box”, Doug Stone
3. “Heart of Gold”, the Kinks
4. “Runaway Train”, Soul Asylum
5. “Family”, Dar Williams
6. “Must Be Sinking Now”, Cheryl Wheeler
7. “Mother”, Tori Amos
8. “Summer, Highland Falls”, Billy Joel
9. “If You Want a Mother”, Gretchen Wilson
10. “Rockabye Dixie”, Abigail Washburn
Bonus Track: “Going Through the Motions”, Aimee Mann
Very busy this morning. Two of my classes turn in papers this week, and I’ve been giving midterms in the other five. By this afternoon, I will have (by my best estimate) 335 exams or essays to grade — and all must be graded within the next two weeks.
A quick note: I was very disappointed that a senate filibuster yesterday blocked the “Dream Act.”
The Senate on Wednesday rejected a bill offering the children of illegal immigrants a path to citizenship if they serve in the military or complete two years of higher education. The defeat of the measure, which had attracted bipartisan support, underscored the difficulty of enacting even a narrowly tailored proposal in the polarizing atmosphere surrounding immigration reform.
Off the top of my head, I can think of five or six current students of mine whom I know to be undocumented. I’ve had dozens of other students over the years whose parents came here illegally, often when their children were very small. These kids have grown up, worked hard, and are often finding it very difficult to continue their education. As undocumented students, they can’t apply for federal student grants or loan guarantees.
“Tammy” was my student in my women’s studies and humanities classes. She was the best student in the class each time; she was accepted to UCLA, planning to major in Women’s Studies and History. Her family had come to this country from the Philippines illegally, when Tammy was two. Tammy didn’t find out until her junior year of high school that she and her parents had no immigration documents. She found out her citizenship status when, returning home from her school’s “college day”, she told her parents that they would need to fill out the FAFSA (the standard federal student aid form.) Her parents sat her down and gently told her that that wouldn’t be possible. Tammy felt doubly betrayed: by her parents for never telling her that she had no legal status, and by the only society she has ever known. (Tammy speaks halting Tagolog, and flawless English. Because of passport issues, she has never been back to the land of her birth. Her home is Silverlake and Echo Park, not Manila.)
She was accepted to UCLA straight out of high school, but without financial aid, came to PCC.
Somehow, by borrowing money from family and friends, working two jobs, Tammy is making it happen at UCLA, and will graduate more or less on time. She’s got the raw talent and determination to succeed in the face of any obstacle. Others lack her extraordinary resolve, and slip through the cracks, moving into permanent lives in the shadow economy. I’ve seen it happen.
It ought to be a basic moral principle that children shouldn’t be punished for their parents’ crimes. I’m not sure I regard illicit immigration as a crime, but if I could be convinced that it was, it’s a crime for which the punishment ought only to come to bear on those who were adults at the time it was originally committed. The Dream Act, with its insistence on scholarship or service as conditions for naturalization, was a thoughtful, reasonable, and humane step in the right direction. And it’s been blocked.
I agree with President Bush about very little. But I think he’s been right on immigration more often than not, and I’m sorry that the far-right flank of his party has consistently blocked his efforts at modest immigration reform. (John McCain has also been relatively reasonable on the issue, but most of his fellow GOP candidates have not.) The defeat of the Dream Act is only temporary, I’m hopeful; if things go the way they might in the elections next fall, filibusters may largely become a thing of the past… but for now, the walls that block so many of my students remain in place.
Not much comment needed. This James O’Callaghan piece first appeared in First Things two years ago. It is very fine.
Termination for Cause
Sir,
I had thought the terms of our agreement
Were quite clear.
You were to provide me length of days,
Model children by a docile wife, support for same;
Keep far away all disaster man-made
Or act of your own.
And a death if not quite painless
At least sudden, without humiliation.
I in turn would confess You Creator
Of all things seen and unseen, offering customary
Praise and adoration.
Regarding line four above
Your performance has been marginal at best,
And I have now confirmation
From two physicians
Of what I must deem willful disregard
As to length of days and dying.
I therefore recognize no further obligation whatsoever
To provide the aforesaid praise, etc.
Or, indeed, to acknowledge Your existence.
Any further communication should be directed
To my counsel,
Who assures me that he knows You
from of old.
… I read through old posts of mine and come across something I had forgotten I wrote. For example, I forgot that two years ago, in a post called The Clitoris and Corinthians, I said:
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.
Rereading that this evening, it hits me that just maybe, there’s a book proposal in there somewhere. But is there the time to flesh it out?