Does shyness change the rules? A response to Luisa and Hector

In a comment below yesterday’s brief post which quoted from a new sci-fi anthology, Luisa wrote:

A lot of sexually confident young women are attracted to nerdy, geeky guys, particularly if they’ve got that “nerdy in a hot way” thing going. I’m in a relationship with a woman, but sometimes get crushes on this sort of guy myself! Does the sexual confidence differential that favors the student somehow compensate for the academic power differential in this case?

And Hector chimed in:

It’s true that people vary a lot in their sexual confidence as well as in other, more visible axes of distinction like age, wealth, or power. Sometimes I feel like Hugo is unable to grasp that there are some of us, men and women, who have very little sexual confidence, regardless of how much ‘power’ we might have in other regards.

I need to repost something I wrote nearly five years ago: Loving the Bookish and the Cool, in which I made it quite clear that I was hardly a model of masculine confidence as a youngster:

I was an introverted, clumsy, bookish, unathletic, slightly chubby teen boy. I was teased and harassed throughout my elementary and junior high school years. I found solace in two places: books and the theater. I spent years working with a community theater group as a kid, and it was in drama that I first found “folks like me” who felt like misfits. Most of my good friends were girls — and boys who were on their way out of the closet! I was not remotely good-looking. I had unrequited crushes on several of my female friends, who thought I was “nice, but…” I had only one straight male friend in high school, and even that was often a tense and ambivalent relationship… I think my bona fides as a certifiable geek are in place!

Much as changed in the quarter century since I began to emerge from awkward adolescence, but it’s not as if I’ve completely forgotten what it was like to be paralyzed by self-doubt. And whatever later “success” I enjoyed with women did not erase the memories of what it was to feel undesirable, inarticulate, and at a complete loss as to how to negotiate romantic and sexual terrain.

One thing I learned: it was not anyone else’s job to do for me what I felt unable to do for myself. To put it another way, my geekiness wasn’t a woman’s problem to solve. It is true that my first girlfriend in high school asked me out (I was too scared to make that first move). I was a virgin, she wasn’t. But I learned quickly that fear is not a justification for passivity. While I had no reason to be ashamed of my shyness, I did have an obligation to learn to be more assertive. And among other things, I also learned that whatever frustration I had felt as a consequence of feeling unattractive and geeky and unwanted was not my girlfriend’s pack to carry. I remember feeling those brief flashes of anger, flashes which I think are quite common among those who end up as men’s rights activists, when I thought about my years of feeling unattractive and unwanted. And my first lover was blessedly assertive enough to make it abundantly clear that while I was entitled to my feelings, I was not entitled — ever — to be desired by others. I wasn’t owed the feeling of being wanted, nor was I owed any particular deference because of my fears and inexperience. Continue reading

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”: a note on a new sci-fi anthology, and how one might best ask out one’s single professor

No time for a longer post, but my reader Sumana sends me a note about a new free, online fantasy/sci-fi anthology which she has co-edited: ThoughtCrime Experiments. She suggested I take a look at one story, Jump Space, by Mary Anne Mohanraj. It features one scene in which a student asks out a teacher, and Sumana noted that it featured a particularly fine example of an ethical way for that to be done. Here’s an excerpt:

“I was wondering…” Sarita looked up then, her eyes meeting his for the first time in the conversation — the first time that semester. “…would you like to have dinner with me?”

Joshua drew in a quick breath, his face flushing. Her eyes were astonishingly dark brown, almost black. Dark like the empty spaces between the stars; the vertigo was dizzying. Before he could answer with the obligatory no, a response Joshua was surprised to find he did not want to give, Sarita had gone on, speaking quickly, her eyes locked on his.

“You’ve graded everything except the final exam, and I’ve gotten straight A’s. I’m going to get an A on that too, and I know you have to have a second-grader on the final anyway, so even if you wanted to give me a better grade than I deserve, you can’t, so it wouldn’t be a breach of ethics to go out with me. I would have waited to ask you until the semester was over, but I checked the flight records and you’re scheduled to leave Pyroxina the day after finals, so if I waited it would be too late. So I had to ask now.”

I’m not a sci-fi fan, but agree wholeheartedly with Sumana that yes, this short vignette does offer one particularly good example of one right way for a student to approach a teacher. My views on the general inadvisability of older men/younger women relationships aside (this story suggests that Joshua is only a handful of years older than his student, in any case), I’ve never opposed students asking out their (single) teachers at the end of a semester. It’s better to wait a bit longer than Sarita does in this story, and it’s best for both to be sure that the student isn’t likely to re-enroll in a future course with that particular professor. And of course, if the professor has been actively mentoring the student (in office hours, or in a student club of some sort), then a romantic relationship (even once the grades are turned in) is much more transgressive and problematic. Good mentoring often continues past the period when a student is in a class (I have former students who still contact me for advice, or letters of rec, on a regular basis); if a student feels inclined to ask out his or her professor or TA, it needs to be clear that there is no “planned return to asymmetry” in the future. And good mentoring can be friendly and warm, but is almost always “definitionally” asymmetrical.

I do get emails from folks wondering about the ethics of asking out their teachers. While I take a fairly strong stance these days against professors ever asking out their students (even former ones), I do think that the reverse situation is less prone to potential exploitation. The student needs to be reasonably sure that the professor is single; the student needs to wait until the semester is over (or at least to the point that Sarita waits). And in general, I’m much less troubled by a 21 year-old student asking out her 28 year-old single instructor than by that same student asking out her 38, or 48, or 58 year-old professor. (Those instances are of course rarer, but not unheard of.)

In any case, enjoy the ThoughtCrime collection!

Equally addictive, not equally pernicious: more epic fail from Mary Eberstadt

Mary Eberstadt is on a roll. A few months ago, she announced that “food was the new sex“, a conclusion I found historically inaccurate at best and deeply wrong-headed at worst. Clearly, however, our Mary has found what she regards as a fertile field; she’s back this month with Is Pornography the New Tobacco? (Since all good things seem to come in threes, prizes must go to those who guess the topic of her third installment. I’m tempted to write a first-century theological satire, based on debates among early Christians about changing purity laws: “Is Divorce the New Pork?”)

Like her food/sex thesis, Eberstadt’s suggestion that “Big Porn” mimics the earlier tactics of “Big Tobacco” seems alluringly insightful, but falls apart under scrutiny. She returns to her trope from the food-sex article by offering us “Betty” (a thirty-year old woman in the 1950s) and “Jennifer” (a contemporary thirty year-old) and contrasting their views on porn and tobacco.

Like many of her friends, and also like her husband Barney, Betty smokes cigarettes. She does so unselfconsciously and throughout the day — in the kitchen and most other rooms of the house, during her housecleaning, on the front steps, around the children, in the car, at the movies and in restaurants, even walking down the sidewalk. It’s not the sort of thing she gives much thought to, though when she does she sometimes feels conflicted. For Betty, the issue of tobacco may raise certain questions of expediency (she worries about the money she spends on it). She also wonders from time to time about its possible effect on her health, as people by 1958 are starting to talk about that too.

On the other hand, despite these occasional personal misgivings, Betty does not see smoking as a moral issue in its own right. It is rather, she believes, a matter of individual taste.

Jennifer, on the other hand, takes a similar stance on pornography:

On the one hand, like Betty, she does not think that this particular substance — in Jennifer’s case, pornography — poses any genuine moral issue. On the other, again like Betty, when she does stop to think about it she feels conflicted. From time to time, her boyfriend Jason has persuaded Jennifer into watching some together on the internet. On the outside, Jennifer goes along with this gracefully enough. On the inside, though, she is not so sure she likes it — more precisely, that she likes Jason liking it. One thing she is certain of is that Jason knows more about pornography than she does. She has more than once caught him unawares while he was watching it, and she’s overheard allusions to it among his friends.

Even so, and despite her occasional misgivings, about pornography as such Jennifer has the standard-issue generational opinion of her time. She is not a Kantian about it. She has her own personal likes and dislikes; she assumes everyone else does too. In sum, she does not think that pornography, when made by and for consenting adults, is morally wrong. She thinks it is a matter of individual taste.

Eberstadt is absolutely right that social mores change over time. This is not news. That which was unclean becomes clean; that which was permitted is now banned. (Think of the shift between the Torah and the New Testament on pork and divorce, for example, which I referenced above.) Of course, we have a responsibility to do more than accept social changes with a fatalistic shrug; we do need to be particularly critical about the ways in which our own sense of what is acceptable causes us to turn a blind eye to suffering. Continue reading

Living Christian, living feminist: a note for Mercy

New posting returns.

A reader named Mercy (I have a few with that pseudonym, it seems) writes after participating in this discouraging discussion at Christianity Today. Mercy, a young committed evangelical, youth leader, and feminist, asks in an email

How do you deal, as a Christian feminist, with Christians who seem to still believe women are an after-thought of creation, who deny any feminine qualities of God, who think that because birth control wasn’t accepted by a church until 1930 it’s still evil….I could go one and on, but how do you do it? How do you reason with these people? How do you make them see you’re not a pagan, not renouncing Christ, etc, etc.? How do you live your beliefs?

I told Mercy that I could indeed identify with her, and promised to respond publicly.

She raises two of the three issues that Christian feminists routinely face:

1. Hostility from more traditionalist Christians who question one’s theology, one’s hermeneutic, one’s commitment to Christ, and — not infrequently — one’s salvation.

2. The difficulty in getting conservative Christians to consider feminist criticism not only as valid, but deeply congruent with the spirit of Christ and with the Gospel.

Mercy doesn’t raise the last issue:

3. Bewilderment on the part of secular feminist allies who assume that Christianity is antithetical to both reason and egalitarian values, and who wonder how such an otherwise well-informed and committed activist could hold to beliefs like the divinity of Jesus and the promise of eternal life.

I’ve written before about reconciling faith and feminism — see here and here. I have no hesitation about identifying as a Christian and as a feminist (though I do sometimes use the term “pro-feminist” in certain contexts). I’ve lived a long time now with both labels; I don’t need to share the convictions of every other person who embraces either term in order to feel that they describe me accurately. To sum it up in one sentence: I believe in the unique role of Jesus Christ as the Messiah, my Savior; I believe that the multiplicity of gender identities, like the multiplicity of races, is a sign of God’s delight in diversity rather than evidence of a plan for different roles. And just as no race is to rule over another, so too no sex is to rule over another. Galatians 3:28 is Christology, but it’s also a political statement about how the world should be ordered and how the law ought to treat difference.

Mercy’s real question, it seems, is how to live as a feminist in a community of conservative Christians; how can she push past the cognitive dissonance that some traditionalist evangelicals feel when she proposes reconciling radical egalitarianism with a radical commitment to Christ? Of course, part of the answer is that she’s gonna need to understand that there is nothing she can say that will win everyone over. I assume Mercy already knows that, but it’s worth repeating: being an effective witness for either feminism or faith requires a willingness to be misunderstood and mislabelled and dismissed. And if you’re an outspoken woman in a conservative religious community, the chances of being rejected are excellent. That needs to be okay; as we learn from Jesus, if you’re rejected repeatedly in one village, you need to shake the dust of that place off your feet and move on down the road. That’s true in both forms of evangelism. Continue reading

Reprint: “A man should love his wife more than she loves him”: rebutting a nasty old piece of conventional wisdom

I will return to new blogging, albeit at a slower pace, next week. Until then, one more reprint, this one from March 2007.

On Tuesday afternoon, I was talking to a woman with whom I regularly work out. While chatting about her recent break-up with her boyfriend, my pal repeated a line I find particularly exasperating. She said she’d been on her phone with her mother recently, and her Mom had said:

The best relationships are those in which the man loves the woman just a little bit more than she loves him.

My buddy was wondering about the wisdom of that oft-repeated line, and it occurred to me that I haven’t blogged about it.

I didn’t grow up with that particular piece of wisdom. The first time I heard the suggestion that “marriage is best when the husband is more in love with his wife than she with him” was when one of my cousins got married. My cousin’s new sister-in-law and I were chatting at the wedding (comparing the relative dysfunction of our respective clans) and she mentioned that her brother was absolutely enraptured by my cousin. She said something like:

“I know she loves him, but my brother loves her more. And I think that’s the way it should be. When a man loves a woman more, he’ll pay attention to her and won’t break her heart. When the love is equal, or the woman is the one more in love, there’s a much greater chance he’ll stray.”

This was not the sort of conventional wisdom we shared in my family, so I nodded politely at my new relation-by-marriage and wandered off to explore a new food station. But what she said stuck in my mind, and I began to check it out with my acquaintances. To my very great surprise, this notion that “the man should love the woman more” was actually fairly widespread. In completely unrelated situations, in the past couple of years I’ve had perhaps half a dozen women mention to me that they were raised with this particular relationship philosophy. And talking to my workout buddy on Tuesday really got me thinking about it.

As my regular readers know, if there’s one thing that really sticks in my craw, it’s the various ways in which our popular culture reinforces the “myth of male weakness.” Whether it’s armchair evolutionary biologists opining that promiscuity is hard-wired into the male brain, or misguided Catholic bishops insisting that women cover up to protect weak men from lust, or pop psychologists suggesting that women ought to accept male porn use as natural, a tremendous amount of damage is done by those who reinforce the lie that men lack women’s capacity for self-control, commitment, and relationship. Call it the “all men are dogs” theory, call it what you will — it’s a belief about human behavior that’s shockingly widely accepted, in and outside of religious communities and across vast political and cultural spectrums.

The bromide that “the man should love the woman more” is rooted in the expectation that virtually every man, sooner or later, will prove to be a colossal disappointment to the woman who loves him. If she loves him just a little less, however, this gives her a small “bargaining chip” with which to forestall his presumably inevitable infidelity or abandonment. The romantic imbalance, when it “works in her favor” gives her the chance to manipulate. If she loves him as much as he loves her, however, she loses that chance. And she leaves herself far more vulnerable to being heartbroken when he does disappoint, as popular culture seems to insist he invariably will.

One particularly frustrating way in which the myth of male weakness functions is to relentlessly urge women to lower their expectations for male behavior. Beginning when they hit adolescence, if not earlier, we often send messages to girls to “tone it down”, “don’t be too aggressive”, “don’t be too smart”, “don’t be too sexual”, “don’t want too much.” Older adults and cultural sages urge women not only to give up their girlish longing for a handsome prince, but to prepare themselves to “settle” for a “good-enough guy.” We urge young women not to have too many hopes about finding a man who is sexually attractive, capable, ambitious in his chosen field, emotionally articulate, willing to embrace monogamy in all its rigor and all its joy.

(Parenthetically, at the risk of getting flamed for racism, I see this “culture of diminished expectations for male behavior” particularly alive in my Latina students. Many of them were raised by their mothers to believe that the best one could hope for in a “good” husband was that he “doesn’t drink too much” and he “doesn’t hit” too often and he “doesn’t go to prostitutes.” While that particularly low threshold for masculine decency is certainly not unique to one culture, I do hear it more often from those whose families recently emigrated from Latin America to the USA. Perhaps the issue is more class than race.)

I am not defending genuinely unrealistic expectations for a romantic partner. Insisting that “perfect abs are a non-negotiable must-have” is silly, as is demanding one’s mate produce a seven-figure salary and a four-carat flawless diamond engagement ring. But there’s a world of difference between expecting a man to smother you in minks and jewels and expecting a man for whom emotional competence, fidelity, and a general sense of direction are givens! It’s one thing to teach women not to expect men to provide for all of their material needs; it’s another thing altogether to advise a woman that since most men will leave (physically or emotionally), she ought to “hedge her bets” by picking a man who will love her more than she loves him.

One of the most basic tasks of the men’s movement — not the MRAs, but the pro-feminist men’s movement — is really three-fold:

First, on a societal level, we need to work all the harder to deconstruct the “myth of male weakness.” We need to look at the various institutions (ranging from the inspid works of John Gray to the pious musings of church leaders who want our daughters covered up to the “popular science” articles that suggest that “evolution requires” men to be less capable of commitment, tenderness, and emotional depth than their mothers, wives and sisters) that promote the myth, and we need to take those institutions on directly. Whether the battleground is biology or theology, we need to rebut those voices that urge all of us to “give men a break”; we need to smash the Tammy Wynette school of gender theory. (Wynette famously sang that a woman ought to “stand by your man… because after all, he’s just a man.”)

Second, we need to raise young men’s expectations of themselves. Despite the claims of some men’s rights activists, pro-feminist men aren’t interested in transforming young men merely to turn them into the sort of lads who will fulfill female fantasies. Though raising consciousness and instilling accountability in young men will indeed serve to improve their relationships with all of the women in their lives, the real goal isn’t just ending rape or domestic violence, or improving romantic communication (as worthy as those goals are.) The real goal is to encourage young men to stop living lives of either quiet desperation or passive stupefaction. The real goal is not just to make men more responsible, accountable, and emotionally articulate (all good things) — the real goal is to make them active agents of transformation. It is to give them a sense that by living a life of justice, living a life of ambition, living a real life of sharing and generosity, they will discover a kind of happiness that they’ve never imagined. It’s about expanding their own sense of what it means to be happy.

Third, we need to continue to reach our daughters with a strong feminist message. We need to remind young women that a romantic relationship with a man is not the sole vehicle for personal happiness. But we don’t need to discourage an emphasis on love and enduring commitment altogether. While we can and should do more to encourage young women’s autonomy, we ought also to discourage young women from buying into the “myth of male weakness.” While some women’s fantasy desires may be unreasonable (insisting on the four-carat ring, for example) others are not (expecting fidelity, devotion, a commitment to egalitarian roles in the household, an ability to describe his own emotional terrain without becoming mute or haltingly inarticulate.) Though many women have had and will continue to have disappointing experiences that reinforce their sense that men cannot be trusted, we need to remind them that men are just as capable as their sisters of responsibility and forbearance.

And we need to assure them that settling for a man whom you love less than he loves you is selling everyone involved woefully, tragically, short.

Reprint: “A Covenant with My Eyes”: some long thoughts on looking

This post originally appeared in July 2007.

“Marian” writes a long note about her husband’s habit of staring at one particular type of much younger woman:

From the beginning, my husband has had the dreadfulL penchant of ogling a very specific type woman: young, blonde and petite. Shall I describe myself? 5’10″, dark brown hair and eyes, and as I mentioned, 47. When I say ogling, I mean ogling to an extent I have never encountered. For instance… there is a blonde, young attractive woman at the church we attend and for quite some time he would sit the whole service and stare over at her. He began making a point to attend that particular service, although he knows I prefer to go to a later one. I remember one service where he missed a congregational response because he was so engrossed in looking at her. When I confronted him about this he finally did admit that he thought she was pretty, and I asked him why that would cause him to stare incessantly at her. His reply, and I quote, “it’s like having a beautiful bouquet in front of you. You don’t want to just glance at it, you want to savor it.”

Again, my question is, why would any 50 year old, happily married man, feel a compulsion to stare obsessively at ONLY young, blonde women? He does not look at attractive women our age, nor does he look at young, pretty brunettes. He has admitted that is the “type” he is attracted to. Let me state I am in fairly good shape for a woman of my age, I’m quite eclectic and tend to wear trendy clothing and jewelry, and when I dress to the nines for an evening out on the town I get enough comments from friends, including men friends, that I know I am not exactly a troll.

I am not asking what I should do to solve the problem, that will be up to me. I am merely wanting to know your opinion about why he would continue to do this.

Marian and her husband have apparently seen a counselor, and my first piece of advice is to continue to do just that. As for the attraction to much younger blondes, I’m in no position to figure out why someone has the particular “type” they do have. I’ve never had a physical type to be attracted to; have never preferred women from a particular ethnic background or with a particular hair color. I’ve always been a bit mystified by men and women whose tastes are so particularly narrow. I do know from talking to some of my friends who do have one particular “type” that many of them settled on this type in early adolescence, sometimes as a response to one particularly powerful early crush or obsession. (One of my friends in school only liked brunettes, and that, he said, had everything to do with Kate Jackson, the actress from “Charlie’s Angels”. It was the show he was obsessed with when he first hit puberty, and she became the “it” girl of his dreams.)

But while I am hopelessly unqualified to analyze the roots of an obsession, I am qualified to say that unless Marian’s husband is suffering from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, he’s got full control over his eyes and where they wander. The myth of male weakness says that “men can’t help but stare”, but the honest truth is that we long to attribute a personal unwillingness to exercise self-control to a universal masculine failing. “All men do it” and “We (men) can’t help it” are lies we tell collectively, and we say them so often and with such conviction that we do a good job of convincing ourselves (and sometimes, we convince the women in our lives as well.)

There are many versions of Marian’s husband’s remark about the beautiful bouquet. “Just because I’ve already ordered, that doesn’t mean I can’t keep staring at the menu” is one I hear quite often. These remarks are rooted in the sense that infidelity ought to be narrowly defined as a specific set of actions. But even for most folks who aren’t Christians (and bound by Matthew 5 and Jesus’s admonition about lusting in the heart), there’s a sense that we’d rather our spouses not long for and fantasize about others. Fidelity isn’t just about what we don’t do with our genitalia, it’s also about where we direct our hearts and our thoughts. As Marian’s letter makes clear, “merely” ogling has great power to wound.

But choosing a partner is not like ordering a meal in a restaurant. And women are not lovely bouquets of flowers. It’s demeaning and troubling to compare human beings to objects, even objects as lovely as roses. (Poets, of course, have free license. The rest of us don’t.) A bouquet doesn’t care how closely you scrutinize it; most women know how acutely uncomfortable it can be to have a man (particularly a man old enough to be their father) staring at them. It’s a rare young woman who has never been discomfited by the penetrating gaze of an older man. The power of that gaze to disquiet and to hurt is real. The French tulips don’t care how long you gaze; the young blonde at church being ogled by Marian’s husband very well might.

Similarly, the soup I ordered in the restaurant last night isn’t offended if I wonder out loud, even as I’m sipping it, as to whether or not I ought to have ordered the salad instead. “Continuing to look at the menu” sends a message to our partners that we’re not entirely comfortable with the finality of the decision we’ve made.

It is important to note that there’s a world of difference between the penetrating gaze and the appreciative glance. One thing we all have is a strong aesthetic sense. Most of us can appreciate beauty in another human being without experiencing actual desire for that person. Most men, for example, are much better at evaluating another man’s attractiveness than they let on. Most women know plenty of young men who fiercely deny even noticing whether their friends are handsome or not, but their denials have everything to do with homophobia and nothing to do with a genuinely impaired aesthetic sensibility. Women are allowed, in our culture, to be more open in their praise for each other’s appearance. But we don’t allow men to express aesthetic judgments unless they are accompanied by expressions of desire. Because we insist (entirely falsely) that men’s judgments about beauty must be tied to their libidos, we shame men out of praising the looks of their male peers. We also teach men that sexual attraction must go hand in hand with a recognition of female beauty. By insisting that real men only find beautiful what they also find desirable, we limit the potential of our brothers and husbands and sons to be full and complete human beings.

What all this means is that I have a great deal of difficulty in believing that Marian’s husband is ogling these young blondes out of a pure aesthetic admiration. His staring makes his wife uncomfortable, and no doubt also makes the women at whom he is gazing so intently uncomfortable. Whatever the origin of his fixation on blondes young enough to be his daughter, he owes it both to his wife and to the women he finds so fascinating to exercise control over his eyes. More importantly, we need to do a better job of equipping men to have two key things that most currently lack:

1. an honest vocabulary for beauty that allows them to develop appreciation for loveliness without sexual desire

2. a sense that they are as much in control over their eyes as over their hands.

In my own life, I have — like most folks — a keen appreciation for beauty. But I can separate an admiration for beauty from sexual desire. As a heterosexual man, I can admire the chiseled features of a handsome young athlete without wanting him sexually. I can acknowledge a beautiful woman in much the same way. But I am aware that aesthetic appreciation can slip into outright desire if I’m not careful. I remain gently vigilant, but not to the point of pretending to ignore that another human being is lovely to look at.

I’m also aware that I have a responsibility to look at other people in a way that honors all of my commitments. If my looking makes my wife uncomfortable, I need to rethink how I gaze. If my looking at someone’s outsides keeps me from caring about their insides, I need to rethink how I look. If my looking makes the object of my gaze feel awkward or confused, I need to change how I look. My right to delight in another’s beauty is not unlimited; it is restrained by my commitment to my spouse and my commitment not to reduce other human beings into mere objects. As a Christian, I am called to make a covenant with my eyes, not to cut myself off from the beauty of creation, but to make sure that my eyes do not lead me to want to appropriate that creation for my own selfish purposes.

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Kindness is not enough: marriage, sex, and the importance of mutual desire (REPRINT)

Originally posted September 2006.

On Tuesday, I posted a reflection on 9/11 and the small role the events of that day may have played in the end of a marriage.  As sometimes happens, I ended up getting more emails about the post than comments.  One of those emails, from a woman I will identify as "Cyndy", asks a series of questions to which I’d like to respond.

In regards to my most recent ex-wife, I wrote:

It was a kind marriage, characterized by civility and thoughtfulness on my part and on hers. It was also a marriage nearly devoid of excitement, passion, and chemistry. While chemistry fluctuates, it’s not as if my third wife and I ever lost it — we’d never had it to begin with.

Cyndy wrote a long response, most of which I’m printing here:

What, in your opinion, is the excitement, passion, and
chemistry you describe? (I am hoping you will not
respond with the usual, "If you have to ask, then it
isn’t it.") Is it the physiological response to which
you are referring? A spiritual response? Is it the
"intense sexual desire"? Something else?

Also, do you truly think excitement, passion, and
chemistry are absolutely critical to a marriage?

I can think of older couples (our parents’ generation
and our generation) who, as far as I can tell from
what at least the women have told me, that there was
never the intense sexual desire you mentioned. These
older women (some are Christian, some are not, and
they are not necessarily sexually repressed) tell me
chemistry is deceiving and a poor indicator of the
potential success of a relationship. Most often, these
older women tell me a good man is a man who respects
you, isn’t overbearing/controlling, works hard to
provide for his family, will be a good role model and
father to his children, and ideally, comes from a
"good" family (meaning they won’t mistreat you, him,
and your children, and there are few/no criminal/shady
elements/influences). (FYI, most of these women work,
too, so they’re not saying the man should be the sole
provider or anything.) In fact, these women discourage
younger women like myself from including chemistry,
passion, and excitement as a criteria by which to
judge potential mates.

As far as I can tell, these women and their husbands
continue to live a content life together as a couple
and family. OK, I can’t say for sure if they’ve ever
had a clothes-ripping romp in the bed or not, but day
to day, they seem happy. They laugh together. They cry
together. They take joy in each other, their family.
Sometimes they bicker. They usually make up. They have
the usual ups and downs, like everyone else.

What you are saying would seem to invalidate their
experience. Are you suggesting that they can’t
possibly be happy because these women lack that
chemistry, passion, and excitement?

Or possibly, is it something that the man must have,
but is optional for the woman? (I am a woman.)

There’s a lot there to unpack, and I want to do my best to answer at least part of what Cyndy is asking.

Cyndy wants to know what I mean by "excitement, passion, chemistry".  It’s notoriously difficult to articulate, but I mean a combination of intense and persistent physical attraction with a sense that one’s partner arouses both sexual and romantic feelings.  It is physical, it is sexual, it is spiritual, and it is emotional.  Now, I am as aware as any (and probably, based on experience, more aware than most) of how temporary and transitory that initial chemical "rush" of a new relationship can be.  Within a matter of weeks or months, what once was incredibly new and exciting often loses some of its "freshness".

But I want to distinguish between placing a high value on passion and the "pursuit of everlasting novelty" which I have criticized here in the past.  On the one hand, we make a serious mistake if we turn into compulsive, serial monogamists, always looking for the next person to bring us a rush of excitement.  On the other hand, we make an equally serious mistake, in my opinion, when we claim that mutual sexual attraction and fulfillment aren’t immensely important components of a successful marriage.  While chemistry may wane and lust may fluctuate, I do believe that in order for a relationship to be successful, there must at the least be an initial period of extraordinary desire.   In times of low desire and little sexual activity, memories of "how it used to be" can serve as a reminder that the two people in a given relationship really did once passionately long for each other.  What one once had and then lost can be found again.  What one never had in the first place is a lot harder to create from scratch.  That’s the lesson I got from my last marriage.

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Reprint: “Ranking the Girls”

This post originally appeared in August 2006.

Not a lot of time for posting today, I am busy grading and resting.

Yesterday on campus, I ran into a colleague I hadn’t seen in several years.  "Max" and I were hired around the same time as adjuncts in the early 1990s; I eventually was lucky enough to get a full-time job.  Max (who taught sociology and psychology) was not.  He taught at PCC for a number of  years, and then gave up his dreams of teaching and went into the business world.  He told me yesterday, as we greeted each other, that he’s back to "adjuncting" again — his business success has allowed him to return to his original passion of college teaching, even if only part-time. He’s maybe a decade and a half older than I am, somewhere (I think) in his mid-fifties.

I never saw Max teach.  But I vividly remember a discussion we had a few years ago, not long before he left the college.   He was in the faculty lounge one morning, going over his class roster.  He stood up excitedly when I walked in: "Hey Hugo, look at what I’m doing!"  I came over, and saw that he had placed numbers next to the names of many of his students.  My heart sank; I thought Max was going to share with me some new and complex grading theory that would be very tedious to have to listen to. 

But it wasn’t about grading: "Hugo, I’ve ranked all the girls in all my classes!"

I was stunned, staring at the sheet.  He’d ranked them two ways.  One, "ordinally", from 1 (the "hottest" in his estimation) up to about #20 (there were that many women in the class).  Then, he’d put a second number (in a different color pen) next to the first number.  This reflected, he explained, where the girls stood on the classic 1-10 "objective" scale.  His #1 in the class, therefore, ranked as an 8.75. 

I was so bewildered, all I could think to ask was "Max, how long did this take you?" 

Max told me he did this with every class each semester.  It took him a few weeks to make decisions, he explained.  "I can’t make a final decision on where they rank until I see them in different outfits; it’s usually not until the midterm week that I am sure of what numbers they deserve. But hey, Hugo, you should try it — it’s objective and subjective grading at the same time!"  And with that, I got a slap on the back and off he went.

I really agonized for a while about confronting Max about this.  The temptation to "let it go" was overwhelming.  I was certainly still quite tentative in my commitment to challenging older men.  But after running Max’s story by a friend of mine who was an active feminist (and not on campus), I summoned up the courage to confront him.  Of course, it didn’t go well.

I invited Max into my office, and I told him how uncomfortable I was with what he had showed me.  I used words like "sexist" and "unprofessional".  Max became very indignant.  "This is bullshit, Hugo.  I’m only doing on paper what every man does in his head.  I’m honest about it — but you, you’re a fucking self-righteous fraud!"  And he stomped off.  Later, he came up and apologized for his language , but not for his "ranking system."  And having said my peace, I let it drop.  When I saw Max yesterday, I instantly flashed back to our fight over his "rankings".  Honestly, I’m surprised I hadn’t remembered it earlier to blog about it before.

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Reprint: “I don’t want to be the feminist cat lady”

This post originally appeared October 13, 2006.

As regular readers know, one text I’ve relied on a lot in recent semesters in my women’s studies classes is Lynn Phillips, Flirting with Danger.   A sociology/psychology text, it’s a masterful study of young women’s profoundly conflicted feelings about sexuality, gender roles, and power.  Like many social scientists, she talks too much about "discourses", but that’s forgiveable.

In any event, it was in the process of teaching Phillips that I realized something about a great many of my students. One key reason why many of the young women whom I teach remain reluctant to embrace feminism is simple, sad, and profound: they are convinced that living a feminist life will leave them lonely.   As tempted as they are by a vision of themselves as empowered, active, assertive agents, far too many of my students are genuinely convinced that to live as feminists will make it nearly impossible for them to find and sustain a loving relationship with a man.

When I first started teaching women’s history, I figured my main obstacle to getting my students to embrace the feminist label was the set of negative stereotypes about feminists as "angry, hairy, and man-hating."  This doesn’t mean that I refuted all of these stereotypes directly; after all, teaching young women to get in touch with their righteous anger is an important feminist task.  And questioning the cultural norm about women and body hair is also important, even as we acknowledge (as we’ve been doing in the blogosphere this week) that feminists can have different views on personal grooming!  But for the most part, I figured that students were anxious not to associate themselves with what they saw as these unattractive, unpleasant stereotypes.

But I’ve come to see — more and more in recent years — that for so many of my community college students, the real fear is not of the feminist label.  The real fear is that embracing feminism will make it impossible for them to find and sustain a lasting relationship with a man.  What they are hungry for — and what a male professor can’t offer them, regardless of his marital status — is female feminist role models who blend successful heterosexual relationships with their activism.  Obviously, this is heterosexist.  But while a certain small percentage of my students are sexually and romantically drawn to other women, the clear majority are "straight."  And even among the most ambitious, it is not patronizing to point out that for a great many of my female students, a major life goal is an enduring, fulfilling, satisfying relationship with a man.   (I often have students admit this apologetically, as if they are "letting down the side" by expressing romantic longings.)

The dilemma for feminist professors is obvious.  On the one hand, if we spend a great deal of time reassuring our female students that a commitment to feminism is easily compatible with heterosexual romance, we end up reinforcing the questionable notion that sexual relationships are the ultimate source of human happiness.  On the other hand, in a fiercely anti-feminist world, we may be tempted to down play the very real consequences of embracing a feminist life.  The fact is that some men, maybe even a great many men, will be put off by a woman who is an authentic feminist.  To pretend otherwise, and promise an endless supply of thoughtful, egalitarian, hot men just looking for a true feminist woman would be, well, a colossal misrepresentation of reality.

Yet if we try to dissuade our students from focusing on relationships and romance, we end up invalidating their very real fears and desires.  Too many women I’ve taught have heard the line "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle", and said to themselves "Damn, there must be something wrong with me for wanting a bicycle so badly!"  Yes, we feminists ought to question the centrality of the heterosexual discourse in young women’s lives.  Yes, we ought to challenge many of their preconceptions about romance, sex, love, and marriage.  But we must do so without dismissing or shaming the very real desires that so many of these young women have for these very basic things.

In recent semesters, addressing the fear of loneliness has become a chief priority in my women’s studies classes.  It’s vital work because it meets the concerns of many of my students — who frequently come to the course with a great deal of ambivalence (and ignorance) about feminism and women’s liberation.   One  articulate student wrote in her journal this semester:

I am not sure I want to be a feminist.  I believe in feminist ideals, but I’m terrified that claiming the name of feminist will doom me to ending up as an old lonely "cat lady"!  I want to be an independent, strong woman.  I want a career and I want to be a mom.  I’m scared that if I’m too feminist, I will end up alienating a potential husband.  What I want to know is, can feminists really have it all?  Or is it about choosing between either a great relationship with a man or having this amazing single feminist life?  Because honestly I know I’d rather have the first one, even though that is hard to admit. But I really want both.

Bold emphasis mine. One thing we can all do better as "public feminists": blog more about how we mesh our politics with our marriages and romances and partnerships.  Gay or straight, monogamous or polyamorous, we need to set examples for how we reconcile our beliefs and our private lives.   With all respect to my lesbian sisters and gay brothers, this is a particularly important task for those who are heterosexually partnered.  It is not that single men and women can’t be good feminist role models!  And it’s not that singleness and loneliness always go together.  But when so many of our aspiring feminists admit that the fear of loneliness is a chief factor in their reluctance to embrace the feminist label, we’ve got to meet that problem proactively and publicly.

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