Fun with Myers-Briggs

This Myers-Briggs Dating Field Guide has been floating around the ‘net, and I thought it rather fine. But as an ENFP (who occasionally feels rather INFP) married to a strong ESTP, this was a bit disconcerting:

ESTP-
Why you want one: Know Jeremy Piven in Entourage? Sometimes it just feels good to be around an asshole.
Spoiler Alert: Followed to its logical conclusion, this personality type can also be called ‘sociopathic.’
Where to find one: The clubbiest of clubs, near edge of the dancefloor where they’re looking to shove their tongue down someones throat for awhile and then have some aggressive sex before they leave without saying anything.
Pickup technique: Maybe the easiest to pickup, just try to look good and get in their line of vision. Be aggressive.

Honey, is that you? We do call my wife Herschel, as I explained here…

ENFP-
Why you want one: Passionate, unpredictable, absolutely always interesting.
Spoiler Alert: Not loyal to people or ideologies. One day it’s yoga, the next it’s kickboxing. One day it’s Theravada Buddhism, the next it’s Assemblies of God. This applies to their romantic life.
Where to find one: The clubbiest of clubs, in the middle of the dancefloor, possibly on X.
Pickup technique: Wear some bright colors, talk about how you bathed in the Ganges to get salvation, give them drugs, promise to get tantric. Beware of passionate yet very sloppy kisses.

Hah. I actually was in Assemblies of God for five minutes. And yeah, that’s probably my kissing technique too.

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“A regressive change in service of a regressive change”: the looming disaster of H.R. 3

As a number of outlets in both the feminist and mainstream media have reported, the Republican-dominated House is considering new restrictions on abortion funding. The so-called “No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act” is bad enough on its face for those of us who believe that the right to choose an abortion goes hand in hand with the right to access a full range of reproductive services. The truth is, it’s worse than it sounds.

The most devastating aspect of the NTFAA is its unmistakable redefinition of rape. What does that have to do with abortion? A great deal, when you consider the politics around “exemptions” for rape and incest. Many who oppose abortion support exceptions for cases of rape and incest (as well, at least some of the time, for the life of the pregnant woman). Those exemptions are popular, and only a small committed core of far-right political activists oppose them. (One thinks of the execrable but entertaining Alan Keyes, the clownish former presidential candidate, who was fond of asking “How dare we sentence a child to death for his father’s crime?” whenever the subject of these exemptions arose.) Smart pro-lifers know better than to take the radical Keyes stance, so they call for “reasonable” limitations on women’s right to choose, admitting to the wisdom of rape and incest exemptions.

But the NTFAA’s authors want to make sure that those exemptions are defined far more narrowly in the future. As reported Friday:

Republicans propose that the rape exemption be limited to “forcible rape.” This would rule out federal assistance for abortions in many rape cases, including instances of statutory rape, many of which are non-forcible. For example: If a 13-year-old girl is impregnated by a 24-year-old adult, she would no longer qualify to have Medicaid pay for an abortion…

“This bill takes us back to a time when just saying ‘no’ wasn’t enough to qualify as rape,” says Steph Sterling, a lawyer and senior adviser to the National Women’s Law Center. Laurie Levenson, a former assistant US attorney and expert on criminal law at Loyola Law School in Los Angeles, notes that the new bill’s authors are “using language that’s not particularly clear, and some people are going to lose protection.” Other types of rapes that would no longer be covered by the exemption include rapes in which the woman was drugged or given excessive amounts of alcohol, rapes of women with limited mental capacity, and many date rapes. “There are a lot of aspects of rape that are not included,” Levenson says. Bold mine.

As any historian of women’s rights will tell you, the struggle against sexual violence and the struggle for reproductive justice are intertwined. The right of a woman to say “no” to sex and the right to say “no” to an unwanted pregnancy both rest on the same principle of sacred autonomy. Feminists fought hard in the nineteenth century for statutory rape laws that raised the age of consent. One hundred years later, we fought for women’s right to withdraw consent once given, and for the common-sense principle that intoxication vitiates consent. What we’re working towards is a culture that sees rape as defined not solely by the presence of life-threatening force but by the absence of enthusiastic consent. By insisting on the antiquated and inadequate definition of “forcible rape”, the House Republican majority seeks not just to limit women’s access to abortion, but to undo decades worth of expanded protections against sexual violence.

This is, as Thomas at Yes Means Yes put it, “a regressive change in service of a regressive change.”

Please contact your Congressperson, and urge that your representative to vote no on this unconscionable threat to women’s lives and safety.

That’s not hyperbole.

Home is where the left is?

I’ve been very fortunate to do a lot of traveling in my life. But though I’ve been around the world, I’ve called California “home” for all of my life. I lived for nine months in Vienna when I was five, and spent three months teaching abroad in Florence, but with those exceptions, my trips abroad — or even out of state — have never lasted more than six weeks.

And I’m proud to say that I’ve only lived in areas currently represented by Democrats. Our home today is in Henry Waxman’s district. I teach in Adam Schiff’s district. I was born in Lois Capps‘ district, and spent most of my childhood in what is now Sam Farr‘s district. The family ranch is in Jerry McNerney‘s district, and I got my bachelor’s degree in Barbara Lee‘s district.

My brother manages to live in the only Labour-held constituency left in Southwest England. (Though my grandparents lie buried where my father grew up, in a tiny town now represented by a Tory.)

I love to travel. But I love to come home to the liberal enclaves of the Golden State.

“Play the tape to the end”: a tool for dealing with unwanted fantasies

A reprint from October 2009

I mentor — and in 12 Step parlance, sponsor — a number of folks working to overcome various addictions. Part of any program of recovery is sharing what you’ve learned with those newer to the transformation than you. I’ve written often of the rule of three, which I see as central in my own progress. I make sure that every work (or almost every week) I connect with someone with more wisdom and experience and “time” than I have; a second person who is a peer both chronologically and experientially, and a third person, almost always much younger, who is just beginning recovery or a spiritual journey. Even for introverts, the rule of three can work (I’ve seen it).

One of the issues that came up a lot for me when I was getting sober from my various addictions (alcohol, drugs, sex, food, and so forth), was dealing with the intrusive thoughts about relapse. I struggled enormously with the compulsion to “act out”, and at times in my early recovery it seemed as if virtually every situation in which I found myself presented a fresh set of “triggers” designed to get me back into old and destructive behavior. I had plenty of relapses along the way. (I went to my first AA meeting in 1987, but didn’t get sober “for good” until 1998 — eleven years of walking in and out of a revolving door.) I made countless promises to stop drinking and using, and countless promises to be faithful to wives or girlfriends. I would cobble together weeks or months of recovery until I encountered a seemingly irresistible temptation of one sort or another (the “accidental” discovery of a large cache of benzodiazepines in a family medicine cabinet; a surprise encounter with an old flame or a fellow newbie in a recovery program), and I would “fall” again. And even as I put together large periods of abstinence from destructive and dishonest behaviors, I was tormented by dreams about using and intense fantasies about hooking up with unfamiliar, as yet unexplored skin.

My sponsor gave me a tool that is the point of this post, one that I share with those whom I mentor. When it comes to intrusive thoughts or seemingly irresistible fantasies about doing something that is almost certainly a bad idea, there’s no point in fighting the thought. Saying to oneself “don’t think about that” doesn’t work well. If one is told in a firm voice, “Don’t think about elephants!”, the first thing that pops into one’s mind is probably a pachyderm. Rather than fighting a futile, shame-filled battle against one’s fantasies, it makes more sense, my sponsor said, to give oneself permission to have the fantasy. But — and here’s the key — one doesn’t have permission not to think the fantasy all the way through. I was told that if I wanted to drink again, I could imagine the heat of the liquor in my throat, the soothing warmth in my belly, the delicious sense of calm suffusing my whole body. But, I wasn’t allowed to stop there. I had to continue the fantasy. I had to envision the nausea, the stumbling, the peeing on my self once I passed out. (Yes, I was a wet-the-bed drunk. I know, TMI.) I needed to continue the fantasy into the next day — the hangover, the guilt, the fear of seeing people again, the worry about the harm I had done, that awful sourness in my stomach and soul.

With thoughts about acting out sexually, I was told to do the same thing. I couldn’t just do the pleasant parts of imagining taking someone new in my arms for the first time, the taste of her mouth and the thrill of slipping the clothes from our bodies as we tumbled into beds, backseats, or bushes. I needed to think through the awkwardness to come, the fear of being discovered, the shame of knowing I had crossed a line (for the umpteenth time) I had sworn not to cross. I had to imagine not just the erotic aspects of a desired encounter, but all of the possible harsh, inescapable consequences. I couldn’t stop the fantasies half-way through, in other words; I was allowed to daydream all I liked, but only if I carried the reveries to their inevitable conclusions.

By the time I was given this tool, I’d had enough deceit-ridden hook-ups and binges that I couldn’t possibly have any serious illusions that the next time — if there were to be a next time — would be different than all the times before. I knew what was so sweet going down would be so vile coming back up; I knew what seemed so transcendentally ecstatic at 1:00 in the morning would leave me feeling empty and shame-filled twelve hours later. It was a great tool my sponsor gave me; it liberated me from the seemingly hopeless responsibility for policing my mind, but it forced me to introduce the reality of consequences into my fantasies. There was an element of psychological aikido to the idea; rather than resisting what seems so irresistible, I was told to flow with the thoughts as they came, and using the sheer force of their flow to carry them past the point where I would normally stop. I was liberated to want what I wanted — but only if I went past the point where I had initially wanted to go.

The tool worked for me. It helped diminish the urges by connecting cause and effect more clearly in my mind. The sort of temptations I struggled with a decade a more or ago rarely come to me now, but come they occasionally do. I don’t fight the thoughts that come, or shame myself for having them; I calmly let them wash over me, and I ride them like a wave that rolls all the way to the shore. I know that I can’t stop the fantasy before taking it all the way, to the ecstasy — and past it, to the devastating consequences beyond. I recommend this “think it through” tool to the young (and not so young) whom I mentor, whether they call themselves addicts or not. From what I hear, it often works nicely for them as well, and I thought I’d share it today on the blog.

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Friday Random Ten: Farewell to Charlie edition

Charlie Louvin, one of the great pioneers of country music (and, with his brother, members of the pre-eminent country gospel outfit of the past six decades) died this week. One of my favorite Louvin songs (and surely one of their most famous) shows up as the bonus. My shuffle favors recently played tunes, and I’ve been hearing a lot of country-infused stuff lately. Colvin nails the Carter Family classic with #1, and #9 is a lovely song from an outfit that never got their deserved fame on this side of the Atlantic.

The second bonus track is my favorite song from what was, in January 1986, the album I was listening to most often. And if you’re over 30, you remember what happened 25 years ago this morning.

1. “Single Girl, Married Girl”, Shawn Colvin with Earl and Randy Scruggs
2. “Give it One More Chance”, The Bois d’Arcs
3. “A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall”, Bob Dylan
4. “How Will You Shine”, The Gourds
5. “Nobody’s Diary”, Yaz
6. “January Wedding”, Avett Brothers
7. “29 Palms”, Robert Plant
8. “Here You Are”, Greencards
9. “Prettiest Eyes”, The Beautiful South
10. “Calling All Angels”, The Wailin’ Jennys

Bonus Track: “Knoxville Girl”, The Louvin Brothers
Bonus Track 2: “The Sun Always Shines on TV”, A-Ha

PTA president

Less than two hours ago, I was elected the new president of the PTA of my daughter’s school. Three weeks ago, Heloise began in the pre-K program at the Kabbalah Children’s Academy (KCA). She loves school (which she attends three days a week from 8-12). And her mother and I are thrilled with the institution which we hope will be her academic home for years to come.

So when you’re thrilled with something, why not throw yourself into the midst of it? And hell, why not take a crack at running it?

I have a penchant for getting into leadership quickly (it’s an ENFP thing). The KCA PTA, like many PTAs, was desperate for volunteers; it has the usual history of too much work being done by too few. I’m eager to build an effective team with my fellow boardmembers, and make our association a catalyst for growth in this remarkable little school in this remarkable little community.

We held tonight’s meeting in our house. My election and those of my fellow board members were more or less foregone conclusions; we were the only candidates. Forty parents joined the principal and vice-principal for hummus, tea, and Israeli coffee and a brief meeting in which the new “slate” was approved. We’ve got a busy agenda for the year ahead, and my already pressed schedule is about to be even more crowded. But the old saying is generally true: if you want something done, give it to a busy person…

When the meeting was over, and after I’d shaken dozens of hands and collected business cards and paperwork, I stepped into our front yard. I stood alone under the stars. And I laughed to myself. After all I’ve done in my life, after all I’ve tried and tasted and trashed, I have been reborn in so many ways. But never would I have imagined that my rebirth would lead me to be the first non-Jewish president of the Kabbalah Children’s Academy PTA. (One parent told me tonight he thought I might be the first goy ever to head a PTA of what is essentially a Hebrew Day School with a modified Orthodox curriculum of Torah, Gemarah, and so forth. That can’t possibly be true… or can it?)

I don’t get a lot of sleep. But gosh almighty, I enjoy this business of living. As one of my old using buddies would say, “Dude… what a rush.”

Indeed.

The Rising Price of Perfectionism: Freshman Girls and Anxiety

The headline in the New York Times this morning: Record Level of Stress Found in College Freshmen.

UCLA does this survey of hundreds of thousands of 17 and 18 year-olds every summer, and the results come out the following winter. It’s a great indicator of where hearts and minds are moving. (Both liberals and conservatives have been bewildered in recent years by the data that suggest that young people are becoming ever more accepting of homosexuality, and increasingly less accepting of abortion. Adult lefties and righties tend to couple either acceptance or rejection of both, and are both heartened and worried by this apparent inconsistency of the young.) Because I teach college freshmen (or frosh, the preferred gender neutral term), I’m keenly interested in the results of the survey each year.

But based on this year’s data, the headline ought to read: “record level of stress found in college freshwomen.

Every year, women had a less positive view of their emotional health than men, and that gap has widened…

For many young people, serious stress starts before college. The share of students who said on the survey that they had been frequently overwhelmed by all they had to do during their senior year of high school rose to 29 percent from 27 percent last year.

The gender gap on that question was even larger than on emotional health, with 18 percent of the men saying they had been frequently overwhelmed, compared with 39 percent of the women.

There is also a gender gap, studies have shown, in the students who seek out college mental health services, with women making up 60 percent or more of the clients.

“Boys are socialized not to talk about their feelings or express stress, while girls are more likely to say they’re having a tough time,” said Perry C. Francis, coordinator for counseling services at Eastern Michigan University in Ypsilanti. “Guys might go out and do something destructive, or stupid, that might include property damage. Girls act out differently.”

Linda Sax, a professor of education at U.C.L.A. and former director of the freshman study who uses the data in research about college gender gaps, said the gap between men and women on emotional well-being was one of the largest in the survey.

“One aspect of it is how women and men spent their leisure time,” she said. “Men tend to find more time for leisure and activities that relieve stress, like exercise and sports, while women tend to take on more responsibilities, like volunteer work and helping out with their family, that don’t relieve stress.”

With what I call the “Martha Complex” very much in the news once more thanks to Amy Chua, it’s important to remember that perfectionism is gendered in our culture. Chua, the infamous Tiger Mother whose rigid parenting style has ignited international debate this month, raised daughters, not sons. And the evidence from the UCLA survey is that even parents who are far less controlling than Chua are ending up with anxious and exhausted daughters. With nearly 4 out of 10 girls (compared to fewer than 2 in 10 boys) reporting being “frequently overwhelmed”, it’s not alarmist to say that we have a major crisis on our hands.

I’ve said it, Courtney Martin’s said it, and a lot of others who write about girls have said it one way or another: we’ve succeeded in expanding opportunities for our daughters, and we’ve also saddled them with an ever-rising number of obligations. In the aftermath of “Reviving Ophelia” and other Nineties era books that focused on a crisis of self-confidence among teen girls, we’ve responded with more attention, eager to help young women become more successful. But that well-intentioned help, filled as it is with constant reminders to our girls of what they can be, is often interpreted as yet another reminder of all the things they should be.

The percentage of young women suffering from anxiety, depression, and the other side effects of perfectionism will only increase until we address the root problem. The root problem is people-pleasing: the sense that happiness and fulfillment come from meeting the expectations of others. We teach our daughters that they can be professional athletes and run for president, but we still teach them that their dollies have feelings and that their Barbies’ plastic heads hurt when bumped. We teach them to get good grades, but too often we teach them that the real reward of good grades is seeing pride and satisfaction in the faces of parents and teachers. We raise our girls to be successful, but to do so while being keenly attentive to the needs of everyone around them. So when they feel stressed, as Linda Sax notes, these young women tend to throw themselves into ever more volunteer work, piling people-pleasing on top of people-pleasing, like alcoholics taking shots of whiskey to cure hangovers. The vicious cycle produces the predictable result we’re seeing on measures like the UCLA Frosh Survey.

This is the same problem that Black Swan explores (and look at that film’s popularity among high school and college-aged women!) This is the same problem of what I call the Paris Paradox, the pressure to be “sexy” but not authentically “sexual.” Our girls are achieving more than ever before. But too many are still performing, still trying to please parents and peers, pastors and professors, coaches and boyfriends. With more places to perform than ever before, the fruit of the campaign for equal opportunity, that means an ever-rising sense of pressure and competition.

Equal opportunity for boys and girls has turned into unequal obligation. And as the new frosh survey shows, the cost of this unequal burden is not just hurting prima ballerinas and the daughters of Tiger Mothers: it’s hurting a huge and rising percentage of young women. This is not the fault of the feminist movement, it’s a sign that the feminist movement is not yet complete. It will not be complete until we lift the burden of relentless people-pleasing off our daughters, until we change how we socialize our girls to act in the world, until we teach them that their own pleasure matters more than winning praise.

Thursday Short Poem: Centolella’s “Lines of Force”

At different times in my life, I’ve been an extrovert and an introvert (INFJ slowly turned into ENFP and then to INFP). I’ve lived in small towns with populations in the low four digits — and I’ve spent most of the past twenty years in Los Angeles. I live on concrete, but also love trail running in the back country, spending hours by myself with only my sweat and the birds for company.

And when I meet strangers in the wild places, something like this happens. Thomas Centolella gets this exactly right. The poem appeared here a few weeks ago, and the hat tip goes again to Jendi Reiter.

Lines of Force

The pleasure of walking a long time on the mountain
without seeing a human being, much less speaking to one.

And the pleasure of speaking when one is suddenly there.
The upgrade from wary to tolerant to convivial,
so unlike two brisk bodies on a busy street
for whom a sudden magnetic attraction
is a mistake, awkwardness, something to be sorry for.

But to loiter, however briefly, in a clearing
where two paths intersect in the matrix of chance.
To stop here speaking the few words that come to mind.
A greeting. Some earnest talk of weather.
A little history of the day.

To stand there then and say nothing.
To slowly look around and past each other.
Notice the green tang pines exude in the heat
and the denser sweat of human effort.

To have nothing left to say
but not wanting just yet to move on.
The tension between you, a gossamer thread.
It trembles in the breeze, holding
the thin light it transmits.

To be held in that
line of force, however briefly,
as if it were all that mattered.

And then to move on.
With equal energy, with equal pleasure.

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“Tell me how I should be”: on Blue Valentine and Ryan Gosling’s preternatural sex appeal

UPDATE: A slightly edited version of this post was picked up by Jezebel: Why the Ladies Love Ryan Gosling. Many more comments there.

When the Oscar nominations came out yesterday morning, my Facebook newsfeed was abuzz with indignation. Academy Award nominations always generate controversy. Fans are invariably upset when their favorite actors or films aren’t chosen, and this year, many of us were saddened to see the best director category revert to tradition and fail to include a single woman. (Lisa Cholodenko, who made The Kids are All Right, was richly deserving). But the real ire I saw in my newsfeed revolved around the omission of Ryan Gosling from the Best Actor nominees. And reading the reactions to that oversight, I was struck again by the remarkable chord this one performer strikes with so many young women with whom I work.

You can’t be a gender studies professor and not be tuned into popular culture. Since I started work in this field, I’ve watched as certain celebrities take on iconic status among feminists; when I was just beginning my teaching career, Camille Paglia had turned Madonna into a particular kind of exemplar. When I was at last year’s National Women’s Studies Association conference, everybody and her sister seemed to be writing a paper about Lady Gaga.

But it’s much rarer when a cis-gendered heterosexual man begins to attract the same kind of attention in feminist circles. Ryan Gosling is starting to do just that, largely thanks to his articulate and impassioned advocacy for sexual justice in Hollywood. When his remarkable new film, Blue Valentine received an early NC-17 rating from the MPAA (while Black Swan got an R), Gosling noted that the difference between the two films was the depiction of women’s pleasure. (It was a cunnilingus scene in Blue Valentine that earned the NC-17). Gosling remarked:

You have to question a cinematic culture which preaches artistic expression, and yet would support a decision that is clearly a product of a patriarchy-dominant society, which tries to control how women are depicted on screen. The MPAA is okay supporting scenes that portray women in scenarios of sexual torture and violence for entertainment purposes, but they are trying to force us to look away from a scene that shows a woman in a sexual scenario, which is both complicit and complex. It’s misogynistic in nature to try and control a woman’s sexual presentation of self. I consider this an issue that is bigger than this film.

That quote blew up in the feminist blogosphere last fall even before the film was released. Ms. Magazine raved: I think we can all agree that Ryan Gosling is ridiculously good looking… (he) brings emotional depth and sensitivity to all his roles…we are dreamy-eyed over you, Ryan Gosling, because you are exactly what a feminist looks like.

Ms. wasn’t alone; Jezebel and Jessica Valenti raved as well. And I read the same reaction in the Facebook feeds and journals of my students and former students, many of whom had already sung the praises of the remarkable Mr. Gosling.

Having seen all of his films, including the splendid Blue Valentine (my third favorite film of the year), I can see why Gosling has struck such a powerful emotional and sexual chord in so many. While the mainstream media would have us believe that the Twilight-besotted young women of America can be neatly divided into “Team Edward” and “Team Jacob”, I hear far more about Ryan Gosling than I do about either Robert Pattinson or Taylor Lautner. (Most of my students who actually care seem to have chosen the latter.) Gosling doesn’t play supernatural characters in his films; he plays flawed and complex men whose tender decency is always at war with his compulsions and his rage. He brings depth and nuance to stock characters (the socially inept Lars in the eponymous film, the idealistic middle school teacher with a drug habit in Half-Nelson, the sweet and rage-filled husband and father in Blue Valentine). In a culture where young men are portrayed as pumped up werewolves (Jacob in Twilight) or overgrown adolescents unwilling to accept adulthood (Judd Apatow film after Judd Apatow film), Gosling’s characters are multi-dimensional, fragile, brave.

There are movie spoilers below the fold. Continue reading