Thursday Short Poem: Hirshfield’s “Waking this Morning…”

Jendi Reiter sent me this Jane Hirshfield piece a few weeks ago. A fine poem about writing, about inspiration, about memory. The millstones keep turning indeed.

Waking This Morning Dreamless After Long Sleep

But with this sentence:
“Use your failures for paper.”
Meaning, I understood,
the backs of failed poems, but also my life.

Whose far side I begin now to enter–

A book imprinted without seeming reason,
each blank day bearing on its reverse, in random order,
the mad-set type of another.
December 12, 1960. April 4, 1981. 13th of August, 1974-

Certain words bleed through to the unwritten pages.
To call this memory offers no solace.

“Even in sleep, the heavy millstones turning.”

I do not know where the words come from,
what the millstones,
where the turning may lead.

I, a woman forty-five, beginning to grey at the temples,
putting pages of ruined paper
into a basket, pulling them out again.

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The season of “no”: revisiting and expanding an old post on celibacy

This post, a different version of which first appeared in 2006, was initially inspired by this poem by Lady Ki No Washika:

No

It’s not because I’m now too old,
More wizened than you guess..

If I say no, it’s only
Because I fear that yes
Would bring me nothing, in the end,
But a fiercer loneliness.

I found it in the Los Angeles Times Book Review back in the late summer of 1998. This was a time in my life where, after a very turbulent couple of years, I had taken a temporary vow of celibacy. Keeping the commitment to that vow was proving difficult. This poem comforted me instantly, because those last four lines ran so unbelievably true — they summed up in 22 words what had been up to then my entire sexual history.

When writing about my past, I choose my words carefully.  So many people I know and love read this blog, as do folks from my spiritual community, my youth group, and my college classes.  Much of my private life is thus obscured, and rightly so.  Yet I think I can share a little bit that may prove useful, or if nothing else, may explain why this poem means so much to me.

As I’ve talked about before, in late June of 1998, I had hit a kind of emotional, physical, and spiritual bottom. I attempted suicide after a prolonged struggle with drugs, alcohol, and compulsive sexual behavior. My family was frantically worried about me, my friends had largely pulled away from me, I had spent time in handcuffs — and extended time in hospitals.  While in the last of these hospitals, someone asked me "Hugo, do you have any idea how to be alone?  I don’t mean single — can you really be alone with yourself?"  I admitted that no, I really didn’t know how to do that.  I had already burned through a couple of marriages, and was, for lack of a better time, compulsively dating.  I was a walking, talking, incarnation of toxic neediness!   In the year or two leading up to that watershed summer, I had been going out several nights a week with lots of different people, addictively hungry for connection.  The whole process had left me alienated, lonely, and miserable; it had also made me a bit of a pariah. 

In that long hot summer of 1998 — the summer of Bill and Monica, the summer of the World Cup in France — I came home to God.  It’s an easy phrase to write, and it doesn’t come close to capturing the extraordinary turbulence and excitement of that time of conversion and transformation.   I can only say that I prayed as I had never prayed before, to a God I wasn’t sure I believed in, and I was given peace beyond any expectation.  It was an amazing time, one I hope I will never forget.  "Born again" is such a trite, overused expression — and yet truly, that’s what it felt like.

One of my earliest spiritual directors/Twelve Step sponsors told me that in addition to a variety of spiritual activities, I needed to be celibate.  He defined celibacy as not only no sexual activity, but also no dating, flirting, masturbating, or what he liked to call "intriguing" (I love that verb) with women.  I asked how long this period was supposed to last, and he gave me the typical spiritual director answer: "You’ll know.  For now, just do this a day at a time."

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Gather ye rosebuds: the Onion spoofs the good man crisis

A couple of people sent me the link last week to this hilarious Onion News Network video: Obama Releases 500,000 men from the National Strategic Bachelor Reserve. (You’ll need to watch a very short ad first before the two-minute spoof starts. There is mild profanity within the video as well.) The report speaks of an “Eligible Male Task Force” designed to combat the critical shortage of “Men who are Looking for Something Serious,” and the graphics are splendid. (There’s even a subtle jab at Henry Waxman, my splendid congressman). Watch it all twice.

It’s been nearly a quarter-century since the “man shortage” became a topic of national media hype. The genesis of the scare was a single Newsweek article from June 1986: Too Late for Prince Charming?

The traumatic news came buried in an arid demographic study titled, innocently enough, “Marriage Patterns in the United States.” But the dire statistics confirmed what everybody suspected all along: that many women who seem to have it all—good looks and good jobs, advanced degrees and high salaries—will never have mates. According to the report, white, college-educated women born in the mid-’50s who are still single at 30 have only a 20 percent chance of marrying. By the age of 35 the odds drop to 5 percent. Forty-year-olds are more likely to be killed by a terrorist: they have a minuscule 2.6 percent probability of tying the knot.

That whopping bit of hyperbole in bold (as if there’s ever been a 2.6% chance of being killed by a terrorist) became the “killer quote” that drove the whole discussion. Even when the report (as well as the rhetorical overkill about it) was debunked, the fears that the Elaine Salholz article aroused remained. Nearly 25 years later, I still occasionally hear people use that “greater chance of being killed by a terrorist than meeting a good guy” trope.

The most savvy exploiters of the fears the Salholz piece aroused were social conservatives, who saw the chance to blame feminism for the “problem.” Women, right-wingers argued, needed to honor immutable biological truths, starting with the fact that both their fertility and their desirability peak in their late teens and early twenties. Rather than being misled by feminists into focusing on education and career, young women should leverage their sexual and reproductive power when it is at its maximum, while they can still “land a good man.” (Robert Herrick, call your office.) The conservative message was simple: focusing on career and personal fulfillment when you’re young in the expectation of easily finding a man when you’re ready to settle down was a recipe for heartache and loneliness. The feminists are lying to you, the far right said; we’re telling you the truth. Look at the facts.

Except the facts didn’t turn out to be true, as countless follow-up reports on the “marriage crunch” demonstrated. The marriage crunch, if it exists as a problem at all, is found among those least likely to go to college. Those who have most successfully made use of feminism’s promise are more likely to wed (and have children after marriage rather than before) than their poorer sisters. Even the social conservatives have changed their tune, pointing out that the marriage culture is thriving among urban liberal “elites” while it falls apart among the white and non-white urban and rural working classes. (This time, it’s feminism’s fault for making working-class men without college educations feel useless and unappreciated. The villain always remains the same.) Continue reading

Reveries of relapse: the blessing of “using” dreams

Switching away from recent topics.

A mentee of mine is newly sober in a Twelve Step program. Knowing that I’ve been around “the program” for a quarter century (with a little over a dozen years clean), she asked me about something that’s been troubling her almost every night: “using” dreams. She dreams at night about her favorite drugs, about relapsing. The fantasies are vivid and intense, and she’s struggling with a mixture of shame for having the dreams and the intense craving that the dreams arouse. She wrote me on Facebook recently to ask for my thoughts about them.

Freud famously said every dream is a wish. Of course, even if that’s true, it’s more complex than it sounds. My experience, and the experience of others in recovery, is that not every dream about getting drunk or high again is rooted in longing to relapse. Frequently, the dreams themselves are ways of reminding us of everything we have to lose if we do give up all that we’ve worked for.

I haven’t had a drink or an illicit drug since June 1998. But though they are much less frequent than they were, I still have a few “using dreams” each year. These dreams follow the same pattern. I’m somewhere familiar (like my campus office), when I suddenly realize I’m drunk or high. I never actually use in the dream itself; rather, the dream begins with the dreadful awareness that I’ve lost my sobriety. I’m always on the verge of being discovered when I wake up, sagging back into the bed with relief.

I have the same dreams about cheating, too. They follow the same pattern. The dream begins with me in bed (or in a car, etc.) with someone other than my wife. I don’t dream about the sex itself any more than I dream about taking the drink or snorting the line. In the dream, the sex has already happened, and my family is about to walk in. The knowledge that I’ve broken my vows is awful; the shame intense. And then I wake up, next to my sleeping wife, and realize I didn’t cheat after all. The gratitude for what I have — and for what I haven’t done — is always immense.

I don’t enjoy my using and cheating dreams. But I’m glad I have them every once in a while. For many years, I did lead a double life, in fear of being discovered. I did relapse many times in the years between when I first began trying to recover from alcoholism and addiction at age 19 until I got sober “for good” at age 31. I cheated on every woman I was with before I got sober, and though some infidelities were discovered or confessed and others weren’t, I remember that awful mix of guilt and anxiety that was omnipresent for so long.

If I think I couldn’t relapse or cheat, I’m kidding myself. My reprieve and my sanity are contingent on doing my spiritual and psychological work, and if I neglect those for too long, I am as vulnerable to a massive “slip” as anyone else. The using and cheating dreams, as vivid and terrifying as they are, serve as blessed reminders of that vulnerability. If Freud was right, then these dreams are less about the actual desire to use drugs again or sleep around than a reflection of my own need for reminders of what it is that I hold dear and what I have to do to keep it.

I’m grateful to wake up in a cold sweat a few times a year, with that awful and exquisite mixture of arousal and fear coursing through me. I know what I once was, and I know what I am now. And I know that everything I am and everything I have can be lost in an instant. The dreams remind of my blessings, of my obligations, and of my human fragility. Bring them on. Just not too often.

How do you desexualize that? A reprint on the “erotics of teaching”

This is timely, based on recent discussions ’round these parts. This post originally appeared in June 2008.

A reader named Anna kindly sends me a link to this story that ran in the Times (UK) Higher Education Supplement last month: Sex and the university. It deals with an old and familiar subject, that of teacher-student affairs at the post-secondary level.

The British, it seems, are slower than we Americans to embrace ethical codes that forbid consensual amorous relationships between professors and their current students. While most American two and four-year colleges started adopting such policies in the early 1990s, universities in the United Kingdom have met more resistance to such restrictions (and, apparently, less interest in the policies in the first place).

In the UK, attitudes towards relationships in academe are changing rather more slowly. In 2005, figures revealed after a Freedom of Information Act request by Times Higher Education showed that 50 out of 102 institutions had no policy requiring staff to declare sexual or other relationships with students that might give rise to a conflict of interest. Of those that did, few appeared to apply them: just 17 universities had any current records on file.

In the same year, 18 per cent of respondents to a poll conducted by the Teacher Support Network said that they had had a sexual relationship with a student. Despite this, only 73 relationships were officially recorded and just five of these were defined as sexual or romantic. Many respondents, 62 per cent, said they did not know whether or not their university had a protocol on such matters.

That nearly one in five faculty members in Britain admits to having had a sexual relationship with a student doesn’t surprise. I don’t know of any comprehensive study of faculty behavior at North American campuses, but would imagine that the numbers would be very similar. Purely anecdotally, based on gossip as much as self-reporting, I’d guess that somewhere around 10-20% of my colleagues have engaged in such a relationship. (And as I’ve admitted many times, I had a series of such relationships, all of which ceased ten years ago this month.) Continue reading

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More discussion at One Utah

Glendenb, who blogs at the splendid One Utah, has waded into the old yet still charged discussion about the similarities between radical feminism and the religious right with this post that appeared just before I left for DC. MsCitrus and Berryblade both wade into the discussion as well in the still-live comments thread. I think Glen gets this one right, and I appreciate the energetic exchange that’s still taking place there.

UPDATE: I’ve “unbanned” MsCitrus. Glen’s thread showed me that there could be a lot of heat, but also a great deal of light, in discussions like this.

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Friday Random Ten: Erev Yom Kippur salute to Christine O’Donnell edition

The theme of the bonuses (which I chose) are obvious tribute to the lamentable Republican candidate from the First State. Of those that came up randomly on shuffle,, #5 is a famous song about men who refuse to close the doors that need closing (by someone who ought to know) and #7 is a new and devastating track from one of my favorite contemporary singer-songwriters.

1. “Up on Cripple Creek”, The Band
2. “Bang Your Head (Metal Health)”, Quiet Riot
3. “Speed of the Sound of Loneliness”, Nanci Griffith
4. “When Sal’s Burned Down”, Dar Williams
5. “Thirty-Nine and Holding”, Jerry Lee Lewis
6. “Whenever You’re on My Mind”, Marshall Crenshaw
7. “The Rest of Them”, Catherine Feeny
8. “Tomorrow, Wendy”, Concrete Blonde
9. “Sing Me Back Home”, Gram Parsons (Flying Burrito Brothers)
10. “Boys on the Radio”, Hole

Bonus Track One: “I Touch Myself”, the Divinyls
Bonus Track Two: “Darling Nikki”, Prince

Apples and appetite: on anorexia and western faith

For the first time since Spring 2008, I’m teaching my “Beauty and the Body in the Euro-American Tradition” course. For the past decade or so, I’ve had a fairly predictable schedule. Each semester, I teach at least one section of Western Civ, Modern Europe, and Women in American Society. Those three classes are my “bread and butter”, as it were. I teach a fourth class each semester as well, and rotate among Gay and Lesbian American History, Men and Masculinity in American Society, The Dysfunctional Family in the Western Tradition, and the Beauty and Body course. I sometimes play with or alter the sequence. I’ve taught other courses in my nearly eighteen years here (such as the two-semester sequence of British History) and I’ve got a few other courses I’ve got in mind to develop (A History of Pornography class, and a course on American Religious History.)

Some of my women’s history lectures were recorded and put online last semester by my wonderful student Mon-Shane Chou. At some point, I’d like to get all my lectures up online, both so that my students could review them and interested outsiders could hear them as well. Since I (and the college) make attendance mandatory, I’m not worried about a sudden drop off in the number of folks in my classes as a consequence. In my nearly seven years of blogging, I’ve also written posts that recapitulate some of my lectures, as long-time readers may know.

In yesterday’s Beauty and the Body course, we talked about Christian conceptions of female appetite. In a broad interdisciplinary course like this, it’s hard to spend too much time on any one topic, but I’m introducing them to Western theories of the body and desire as quickly and accessibly as I can. The previous lecture had been on Plato’s mind/body dualism, and the problems that his views pose for us down to the present day. I want my students to see that suspicion of the body and its needs has a history, and that their own struggles for self-acceptance are rooted as much in an ancient tradition as in the effort to conform to a standard set by contemporary culture.

I can’t remember who I was reading in grad school (it might have been Joan Brumberg, or Caroline Walke Bynum) or somebody else when I first realized that the original sin of Adam and Eve revolved around food. Though the serpent tempts Eve with fruit from the tree of knowledge (rather than merely telling her that the apple, or whatever it was, will taste yummy), the means by which she commits the first sin is through eating. Adam eats too, but subsequently. Put plainly, one of the many ways to read the story of what happened in the Garden is that pain and suffering entered the world because a woman couldn’t control what she put in her mouth. That has tremendous implications for women’s relationship with spirituality and food down to the present day.

I’ve written often about the “moral language of food” (the habit of describing being on a diet as “being good” or eating something fattening as being “bad”). We first see this emerging in American vernacular in the 1920s, but of course it’s much, much older than that. The fasting behavior of medieval women that Bynum documents predates, obviously, a modern media culture obsessed with women’s thinness. But the constant throughout history, as I suggest to my students, is that thinness has had a moral dimension.

Thinness is radical self-denial made manifest for all to see. Whether one is virginal or promiscuous, whether one masturbates or lives sadly ignorant of self-pleasure, one’s private sexual behavior rarely leaves enduring marks on the body. Neither sexual virtue or vice shows up the way that extreme dieting or overeating will. (Though the most common consequence of one kind of sex, pregnancy, does leave a mark — but only on women’s bodies.) Food is public in a way that sex isn’t; eating is the most pleasurable thing most of us will ever do in groups. So food has a moral implication that no other source of bodily delight does. Not even sex carries the same, um, heft. Continue reading

Thursday Short Poem: Ryan’s “The Well or the Cup”

Kay Ryan, whose tenure as America’s poet laureate just ended this summer (she has been succeeded by W.S. Merwin), offers this devastating and brief reminder that not all of us have the resources to survive love and life in quite the same way. What we must share and what we must save for ourselves are hard to distinguish for most of us.

The Well or the Cup


How can
you tell
at the start
what you
can give away
and what
you must hold
to your heart.
What is
the well
and what is
a cup. Some
people get
drunk up.

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Radicals in the bedroom: a response to Julian

Julian, who blogs at Radical Profeminist, commenting beneath this post that concluded a series of responses to Factcheckme (FCM), asked this:

I’d prefer to know from the male-men contributors here what you do that is sex and oppressive: and what values get expressed when you do what you do that you call “sex”, because in my experience, men talk a good line about everything, and then when I speak with the women in their lives, I find out a whole other reality–one that becomes entirely apparent, yet is unowned by the men who proclaim themselves sensitive to this or that matter. So the oppressive behaviors hide behind the platitudes and proclamations.

We’d been discussing heterosexual intercourse, you’ll recall, and its feminist implications. The split between those of us who are classic liberal feminists (convinced that individual agency can be exercised even in the face of huge social pressures) and those who are radical feminists (who are far more suspicious of such claims) was on display for all to see. There was the usual name-calling, which went both ways and was uniformly unhelpful. There was the usual misunderstanding of what the name-calling meant, which compounded the unhelpfulness. And despite that, there were some very good comments. Perhaps it’s male privilege, perhaps it’s the nearly indissoluble bond of tenure, or perhaps it’s just that I’ve been having these discussions for 25 years, but I appreciated all the heat, even if it shed only a little light.

As the name of his blog implies, Julian embraces a line of inquiry and an intellectual tradition several steps to the left of my own. I don’t need to agree with his radical analysis to find much that is useful and provocative in his writing. I am not a radical, but as a liberal am made better and more thoughtful by engaging with interlocutors whose views are sharply opposed to mine. Radicals like Julian, Factcheckme, Andrea Dworkin, Robert Jensen, and Andrea Smith are great “cover-pullers”, rousing from slumber those of us who sometimes like to hide from the reality of the oppression all around us. That doesn’t mean that their criticisms are always right, or that their solutions are wise. It does mean that their perspective is useful and deserves to be taken seriously.

I’ve said it many times: part of living out a commitment to justice is consistency between one’s private behavior and one’s public pronouncements. That doesn’t mean that we share every intimate detail of our lives in order to prove that we aren’t hypocrites (we’re all hypocrites to one extent or another). It does mean that we work towards wholeness, where what we say and do and think matches up more often than not.

For feminist men in sexual relationships with women, this commitment to integrating justice and egalitarianism into one’s private life is especially important. We’ve got to make sure we’re not hiding behind “platitudes and proclamations”; Julian is quite right that “talking a good line” and living it out are, sadly, often two very different things. I’ve been candid about my own massive failings in this regard in the past, most obviously about my pattern of sleeping with students enrolled in my classes early on in my teaching career. Of course, at the time I was engaged in this unethical and decidedly un-feminist behavior, I wasn’t also opining that teachers shouldn’t sleep with their students. I wasn’t an out-and-out liar, but I was still abusing my position.

I also have been open about my use of pornography in my younger years, a use that probably met the standard for “addiction.” (I am beyond grateful that the worst of that addiction was prior to the coming of the Internet, which I’m confident would have made recovery harder.) Staying away from pornography and not sleeping (or flirting with) anyone other than my wife are obviously important commitments to me and to those who place their trust in me.

But virtue, including feminist virtue, is as much about what one does as one doesn’t. And Julian is right to suggest that heterosexual feminist men in particular integrate their principles into their sexual lives with their partners. Regarding heterosexual intercourse (PIV), that means more than assuming a degree of responsibility for contraception. Willingness to wear a condom is certainly commendable, but that’s not quite enough. Given that penis-in-vagina intercourse poses a host of risks to women that it doesn’t to men (ranging from pregnancy to a greater chance of contracting STIs to the genuine physical trauma of childbirth), feminist men need to be particularly careful that they aren’t prioritizing intercourse over all other possible sexual activities. Continue reading