Tagged with culture …

Jun 29 2010
culture, family

quick hit: parenting, television, & the culture of moral imperative

parenting, television, & the culture of moral imperative

Parents: Rotting children's minds - because we can!

In a post on Free Range Kids today, Lenore put up a two-author set of observations regarding children’s television programs vs. adult versions. Even today, kid fare typically involves heroes and heroines engaging in awesome adventures, out in the world battling villains or running a business or tromping through the woods in their group of friends. In contrast, switch over to the grownup news and one is inundated with a series of condescending and scaremongering fables regarding the deadly threats to our helpless/profoundly inept/continuously threatened children such as Lightning-Fast Ninja Pedophiles That Lurk In Every Corner,  swim goggles, third-hand smoke, and those family sticker decals on the back of cars (oh hai, BTW I’m totally not making these up). Lenore goes on to add it kind of irks her because here the kids’ TV programs are showing kids adventuring while actually actively encouraging them to stay inside and sit.

And you know what? These are good points and fair ones. I feel a little sad for kids today, because they are disempowered and their grownups are being misinformed, scared, and hounded (I should know: letting them go out and about is something a lot of people aren’t too keen on and it’s actually (often) swimming upstream if you advocate for their freedom to do so).

But perhaps inevitably the post of Lenore’s is soon followed by a bunch of television-apologism. You know, TV is actually quite good sometimes, parents need to watch with kids and not use it as a “babysitter” (what a load of crap, the Evil-Lazy-Parent-and-their-Terrible-Henchman-TV construct; more later), etc. etc.

And then: people who don’t watch TV are head-in-the-sand ostriches raising Special Snowflake jerks (“hi!”).

Ah yes, television. Much like our cars and guns so many USians cling fervently and blindly to this holy institution at all costs. Commentor Donna had this to say about parents who ban television:

I actually find banning TV [...] this need of parents to provide this perfect sanitized world for the sensitive little snowflakes living in their houses. Nothing remotely negative should enter their lives. Can”‘t go outside because you might get kidnapped. Can”‘t keep score because Snowflake might get her feelings hurt. Mom and dad can”‘t drink wine because Snowflake will see them. Can”‘t watch tv because you may see a commercial and not achieve your fullest potential seems to fit in there just fine.

Here’s the thing. We don’t have a television. But you’re never going to hear me dissing parents and carers who do.

I have sympathy for television-owning families, because – basically – they’re often being told they’re Assholes if they so much put their fingers on the dial (yes, I know most TVs these days don’t have dials).  Like so many messages in our mediastream, parents and carers are told unless they Do It Perfectly they are completely Ruining Everything (kids and country).  So I choose to be charitable; I believe these feelings of externally-implanted guilt are primarily responsible for the ire and defensiveness leveled against the non-television crew (“hi again!”), thus creating another village casualty where there could be useful dialogue. So thanks, media, and your many ZOMG AMERCIANS WATCH FOUR THOUSAND HOURS OF TELEVISION A DAY AND THAT’S TURNING THEM ALL INTO HEADLESS FATTIES!!11! “human interest” stories.  Because even though plenty of us know plenty of perfectly fine people who watch (sometimes plenty of) television, it’s pretty hard to not feel pressured and second-guessed we’re (once again) letting our kids down (and, Earth to Brent, most parents DO worry, it’s part of the whole Responsibility gig). Our parenting culture consistently makes sure to kick us in the gonads regarding any vulnerability, even creating vulnerabilities where there otherwise would not be (makes ratings! sells ads!).

We don’t want a television set in our house for about five or six decent reasons that make up enough of a Good Reason to decline (and seriously, do I need to defend our choice at all?). The concept this makes us “unaware of American culture” (as another commentator puts it) falls pretty dern flat. As anyone who knows me knows, my family is just about the last family one could accuse of an isolationist lifestyle –  yes, despite our choices to homeschool and eschew the boob tube (or is it “bube toob”?). My children, Special Snowflakes? Doesn’t ring a bell, Butchie.

Another thing that immediately occurs to me is what a double-edged blade this parenting-judgment stuff is. As a family without a television set, we nevertheless do in fact watch pixels move around a screen for personal entertainment – either through rented DVDs or Netflix Instant on our rugged multi-purpose home computer. And you know what?  I let my kids watch plenty of grown-up fare I am all-too-aware other grownups would think me heinous for allowing. In fact my daughter now and then sits with me to watch one of my favorite (excellently rendered, graphic and crass) satires: “Reno 911″. Believe me I understand this is an “adult” (funny how that term applies to something so obscene and full of buffonery of every stripe) program. It’s kind of maddening that I feel culturally hemmed-in; public screeching over “teacup” kids who are sheltered would apply to my family and our homeschooling/TV-eschewal; so would the judgments against the opposite-end-of-the-spectrum Evils, “neglectful” parents who have no standards about what’s appropriate for young children.  The funny thing is in both choices they are absolutely intentional and were made with my heart and mind and gut.  I could wax on regarding both (please do email me if you have to know); but since this isn’t particularly a Hogaboom-apologist bit I shall not go there for now.

And then, finally, let’s talk about those “television babysitters” because Man! Those people are just Horrid! Really? Really? You know, most of the time television is used as a babysitter it’s not because a parent doesn’t care about their child or is too lazy to hang out with them or has not gotten the message that “We” think TV-babysitting is a Bad Thing. Parents use television as a babysitter (when they do) because raising kids is hard (and you’d be surprised how little help many parents have), and some parents have three jobs and are trying to go to school and a terrible ex who isn’t paying child support and maybe a host of other problems that I don’t have to live with, so I am not so quick to judge them and more quick to want to help them at their point of need (which is, just to be clear, somewhere distant from a bunch of Haters Anonymous weighing in on their suckitude). By the way, Every Parent Ever has made choices that weren’t that awesome for their kid at one time or another. That’s why we need to support one another and be honest with one another, instead of heaping on liberal ladles of ooey-gooey shame.

So again, the message, in case you aren’t getting it loud and clear (and if you’re an involved parent I know you are): you should always be aware you could do it better, and if you don’t do it better, tsk tsk your kids will suffer.

I hope it’s clear at this point that my deliberately-no-TV household is not a dictatorial construct ALL ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE and their choices. Or, as Lenore’s post commentator Uly aptly responds in part to the ZOMG-you-television-free freaks comments:

As far as cultural awareness goes, I think you can get that without actually *having* a TV if you don”‘t want one. Now, before people jump off half-cocked, I said “if you don”‘t want one”. If you, as an individual, don”‘t think your family would benefit from a TV ““ don”‘t have one! You should absolutely not have something in your house you don”‘t want.

If you think TV is fun, and it”‘s worth it for a few programs, you enjoy watching TV with your family ““ get one!

Yeah, that? That’s a bit of the voice of reason, or the voice of, let’s not be jerks about this.

And perhaps more importantly this comment alludes to a fact we don’t always remember: no really, we are the boss. They are our children, our joys, our trials and our responsibilities. This means we should be open-minded and adhere more to the children and the family (or where our heart is) than the strictures of a culture that often doesn’t have our best interests at heart and is going to tell us we’re doing it wrong no matter how we’re doing it.

One slightly more personal point about television: at least once a month someone tells me they want to give up TV but they “can’t”. If I wasn’t honest and up front about the fact we don’t have television and why we don’t (which you notice I’m not touching on here because it’s not the point), and what we do instead and how much we like it (especially not having the monthly bill!) I wouldn’t be providing the families who are interested in booting television with assistance in doing so. TV is the “norm”, but that doesn’t mean those of us who don’t have one should keep quiet for fear of public censure or hurting Its feelings.

But you know?  Most of my friends have television, and they and their progeny seem just as “fine” as my kids do to me. Our lack of television is about as prescriptive for other families as the lack of me eating a Twinkie at this moment indicates I think your preschooler’s sample of “junk” food dooms you to the Parental Purgatory of Ruinous Shitbird-ness.

Parents/carers, go easy on yourselves. And one another.

Photo credit x-ray delta one on Flickr

Tagged , , , ,
Jun 10 2010
culture, feminism

look fabulous or go home

Look fabulous!

"Why on EARTH she'd think box pleats were acceptable in society is beyond me!"

I’ve been meaning to write a post about Nice White Lady Syndrome, a condition I myself struggle with. Hell, I used to be a walking Typhoid Mary (I’m trying to heal, people).  NWLS is elusive for me to describe but it’s real.  I could easily off-hand name some of the common traits. We with NWLS are concerned with being “nice”, of course, and will go to great lengths (including avoidance of subjects or people) to ensure the facade does not shatter.  We are incessantly – internally or aloud – policing the bodies, clothes, manners and appearance of ourselves as well as other women, thereby making sure any concept of “sisterhood” runs concomitant to the pledging of a sorority that allows some (worthy ladies) in, while some are most stridently refused.

Yet despite the desire to be “nice” many afflicted with NWLS will devolve to hateful language and ad hominem attacks if you call out – however respectfully and accurately – problematic behaviors. In fact in our rigidity against admitting wrongdoing we have a core of steel that matches the most unapologetic purveyor of hate speech.  Now I hardly need point out that not all white ladies who are nice suffer from NWLS (so please don’t be bringing me that bunk). 1  I shall leave it for another post to write much more about my thoughts on this little syndrome but I will say: you see its true colors when you disagree with our most treasured bigotries, perpetrations, and prejudices.

Case in point, I enjoy following Gertie’s Blog for Better Sewing, a lovely series of entries that are akin to one of those entrancing, snapping insect-killer lamps for so many American mid-to-upper class white ladies like myself (we’re in the “working class” category if you’re curious). On May 28th Gertie wrote a bit about her experiences in classes with (illustrious and amazing) professional Kenneth King. In brief, her post stated the following: that as she pursues an interest in fashion and fitting clothes for oneself, inevitably she begins to find problems in the fit of ready-to-wear (RTW) clothing she sees out in the world.  Thus her passion for personal clothing construction becomes a nit-picking enterprise on other people’s clothing – and this troubles her a bit.  Or as Gertie herself says, “It makes sense that as we become more proficient fitters and sewers, we’ll become more observant of the garments all around us. (Unfortunately, we might also become more annoying, petty people in the process!)”2

Gertie makes a good point but the issue is not so simple as mere “nit-picking” or “petty[ness]“, since the intersection of a whole mess of issues comes to the fore when we begin to look at other (usually female) bodies and decide what looks good or bad (I think of sexism, racism and classism FAIL right off the bat, but of course homophobia and transphobia rate quite high).

Sure enough, many comments following this post exhibited quite the buffet of harmful worldviews: mostly with regards to body shaming, a whiff of slut shaming, and socio-economic class insensitivity to put it mildly.  Essentially the reader is treated to many lectures on people who wear too tight jeans and too-small stretch fabrics which means they are basically Letting Us All Down by not looking good enough.

Wait, why am I writing “people”? The vast, vast majority of the eighty-three (so far) comments on this post concern women’s bodies, full stop.  The list went on: people (women) are in denial about their size; thus they wear ill-fitting clothes which are somehow a grievance committed against us, the viewer; people are gross for being fat but they’re really gross for not disguising this fat in some way according to the standards of the poor innocent bystander who has to see this body.   All women should consider body shapers or getting their bra fitted. People should make sure to have their pants properly hemmed because please – “spare a few bucks”, your dry-cleaner can do it for you. Shaming and dehumanizing language abounds: “embarrassing sausage-in-a-casing look”, “trashy”, “rubbish”, “gross”. Muffin-tops, camel-toes, and skeletal women are all disgusting. Anyone and everyone outside of the parlances of what fashion provides should either learn to sew or do whatever it takes to not look slovenly.

I won’t deny that, as a seamstress myself, fit analysis is a huge subject and once you get some chops you may notice poor fit all around you.  It’s where one crosses the line into the many types of dehumanizing language and assumptions, insensitivities, and unacknowledged privilege that things get gross.  Along with this nasty stuff comes the adjunct prescription that all women owe everyone, everywhere the duty to wear something flattering or becoming according to – well, I’m not sure who gets to decide that part (the “flattering” prescription for ladies is a feverish mantra in our society).3 In these four-score comments only one (Tasia’s) pointed out there might be financial and lifestyle considerations that might excuse someone for not making Looking Their Absolute Best a high priority.

There were glimmers of hope in the conversation.  Several commentors laid the issue of poor fit in part at the fashion industry’s ill-service to women in particular aspects.  But many comments were kind of muddy – like this one, which took me on a roller coaster of hope before quickly plummeting into more typical territory regarding fat people and compulsory-DIY4:

I also deplore baggy shoulders and shapeless side seams on plus size women, myself included. I don’t blame the women for this, they can’t help it because many manufacturers offer poorly executed plus size designs. And at certain income ranges that is all that is available to them. When I see this I want to grab the women and tell her, “Yes, you can buy a t-shirt for ten dollars, but if you make your own it will actually fit you and look good and you will feel better about yourself when you see how sleek you really can look!”

Oh dear good Lord.

Then there was: “there is nothing more tragic than a larger busted woman with a seam that SHOULD go under her bust…”

Nothing! More! Tragic!

Believe it or not dear reader, I could go on with more problematic content.  Wondering what might happen, I sent this email to Gertie:

I think it’s awesome you are starting to really SEE clothes and fit issues – and that you have the means, time, and privilege to explore a self-education in creating well-made, homesewn clothes. It’s also wonderful you are sharing your experiences with your readers! I have you in my feed reader and look forward to your writings.

But with your last post, I’m sure your intent was not to start a classist bunch of fashion-and-clothes policing. Where I live lots of people are just trying to pay the bills and feed their kids and have clothes on their backs and try not to freeze their asses while they wait an hour between buses (and of course, I’m a white American and surrounded by far more wealth and privilege than many global citizens have). I seriously cannot imagine looking at ANY fellow human being and picking on their “rubbish” or “trashy” or “cheap” sense of style.

I know there are ways to talk about fashion and the pursuant fun of achieving it that respect all human beings. I am sad to see your comment stream is not a respectful space in that manner.

I love your writings and I hope you take my comment knowing I come from that place.

Gertie wrote back almost immediately and asked if she could publish my email in an Op-Ed on the site. I agreed, although my stomach sank because You know? I’m not super-awesome about wanting to speak up about social justice a crowd of inter-netz anonymous who had committed such egregious class and size acceptance FAIL already. But hell, I know I’m okay with what I wrote so I said Sure.  The morning of May 31st the little “Op-Ed” was published with my email and a sparse introduction from Gertie.5

Since most my Underbellie readers are beyond 101, you can imagine what happened next.  A very small series of comments granted my points; many sent up defensive arguments and of course, ad hominen attacks on yours truly (one commenter described me as “insane”! Shoehorning in the ableist pejorative – w00t!). A handful of people said I was “unfair” and handing out “badges” of wrongdoing (so apparently, no matter how politic you point something like this out, you’re being – let’s face it – a pesky bitch to cite it at all). Notable too were the many who said there was “nothing wrong with Gertie’s original post” (although I’d made clear I was speaking about the reader comment stream specifically), a classic Derail that carried through the discussion over. & over. & over.6  I was accused of taking myself too seriously, told I should take on a “real” social issue, and that everyone should wear “sackcloth and ashes” to meet my standards of social justice.  I expected a few attacks, but I will admit I was surprised to hear how many people claimed style and clothing options have nothing to do with socioeconomic class.

Interestingly enough, those who defended my points said when it comes to commenting on other people’s clothing, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” (this happens to be another adage in the NWLS canon). Although I have often employed the “don’t say mean shit” strategy at specific instances in my life, what’s funny is of course, we absolutely can discuss fashion and fit and style – holding there are good and poor strategies and builds for clothing – whilst respecting other human beings who inhabit clothes we personally wouldn’t wear (and due to our various degrees of privilege may not have to).  Eschewing describing a woman as “trashy” is something I can commit to while discussing an erroneously-drafted or ill-fitting empire waist – this latter an interesting subject to me in terms of garment fitting as I don’t often wear this particular style myself. And yet again, discussions on this subject often devolve into that policing bit; that is, a woman who fully knows well where her empire seam is and doesn’t give a Good Goddamn is thrown under the wheels as Unsightly; so too is her sister who is busy thinking about things other than clothing like – oh I dunno for example, food, shelter, her job(s), her family, her passions, her aging father she’s providing round-the-clock care for in the home, her chronic pain issues, her looming layoff, etc. etc.

Most odd of all were the accusations I was this kind of lurky dark-sided outlander trying to make Gertie “feel bad” for her silly hobby (someone claimed I said “frivolous” and of course as you see – I didn’t).  As most my readers here know I share the same exact hobby (garment sewing). Sewing is a life-blood creative source of joy for me; incidentally, I also share some of the same types of privilege Gertie does. I don’t require her to feel bad about any of these things to make my points.

So you know, my whole speaking up thing just felt like oh, making-fart-noises-with-my-mouth. Fail.

But you know?  Amongst the comments following the “Op-Ed” were some diamonds in the rough:

purplesews wrote:

I grew up steeped in the idea that the best thing to do was go home and stay indoors until you’d lost blankity pounds and then buy clothing – and it’s taken me some time to unlearn that and learn to fit my own unique figure without jumping right to disliking myself – so yeah, that comment thread did make me sad in places. The idea that you owe it to other people to wear “the right” clothing for your age/size/coloring/whatever tends to annoy me – while the fact that the market can’t presently provide most of us with the right clothes for our bodies is one of my hobbyhorses. But then, I feel this way about a lot of kindly-meant fashion advice, right down to good old Stacy and Clinton: I feel like if you walked up to the average poorly-dressed person and handed them $1500 and walked away, they would – well, probably pay off part of their mortgage, but if they had to spend it on clothes, they would probably be better dressed immediately, advice or no advice. I also think it’s interesting that we as a culture look down on vanity – there’s definitely some puritanism to the everybody-in-t-shirts aesthetic – but are very gung-ho about having some duty to others to look nice. It’s a strange dynamic.

emadethis wrote:

This is well-said. I shudder to think of people stopping others on the street and pointing out the defects in their garments. I’m distressed when I see poorly made garments on the rack. The deeper you get into sewing, finding these defects becomes just an outgrowth of your learning. A lot of people cannot afford well-constructed items, myself included. I consider myself blessed that I can sew for myself, but many are not in that camp either, and we need to respect where people are on that continuum.

Solitary Crafter writes:

Maybe I just have low expectations of people on the internet, but I avoided the comments on that post because I assumed that it would devolve into critiquing body size and that comments would be made about people shopping at walmart and all the rest.

As much as I enjoy sewing and crafting magazines and blogs, it’s always clear that people like me – poor, redneck, white trash – aren’t considered to be the ‘class’ of readers or commenters desired or expected and the issues faced by poor sewers and crafters, those of us who shop at walmart and thrift stores for fabric and patterns, tend to be either ignored or brushed away as unimportant.

No, I don’t expect everyone to cover the issues facing people like me, I have other resources for that, but neither do I expect understanding when the issue comes up.

Maybe I’m a coward and maybe I’m just pragmatic, but this is one subject that never can be resolved, even among people with the best of intentions.

A handful of comments like these in an otherwise rather dismal showing gives me hope that what I write and speak about is important (enough).  In particular Solitary Crafter’s comment tugs my heartstrings – I know exactly the exclusion and dismissal she speaks of and indeed was pointing it out.

Part of me aches for the person (woman) who is defensive and angry at my observations. I really do know what it’s like to suffer the pain of having my “niceness” bubble popped, especially in an exposed setting. I know what it’s like to be called out in public (which the inter-netz obviously is) and while many can shake it off, I have on occasion blanched and felt my heart race at such things.  In short, I really do have empathy for how upsetting this sort of thing can feel (and I was only calling comments out primarily with regards to classism; you want to see NWLS in full-blown danger mode, speak up when a white lady has said or done something racist - and yes I’m aware by even suggesting “white” has anything to do with these kinds of behavior I am inviting some indignant denial-screeches!).

An investment in being “nice” is/was a seductive condition.  There were so many perks (if I had good “intentions” my actions could not, I repeat not be called into question) even while it took away my ability to handle constructive criticism and listen to other worldviews. Additional “perks” came in the form of believing I was someone who Meant Well and was Part of the Solution and it was totally other people who were Part of the Problem. Since I had a black boyfriend or a few gay friends or since I came from a “poor” background I’d passed some kind of test where if someone ever brought up those issues with regard to my behavior I’d know I wasn’t in the wrong(, ever), so please do not ever point that out.

I won’t say learning differently wasn’t painful. It was (still is sometimes). In my case (personal story), I became active on a social networking site that had a significant proportion of women of color and queer women and unmarried women with children and I got schooled more than once. I was told when I had said something racist, or classist, or elitest, or using heteronormative language or being a garden-variety asshole. It hurt.

Funny thing is even after I left this community I kept seeking out those types of spaces online.  I kept wanting to learn more even if it meant being called out (sometimes in error, but often with a fair bit of accuracy), yes “publicly” and often not nearly as politic as I myself tried to intervene here.

In attempting to shed my biases and denials and sense of White Lady Sainthood (and I hasten to add I am still working through these things) I’ve become a much better listener and I have a broader perspective. I’ve experienced a greater diversity of friends online and IRL who value what I bring to the party.

But some, it seems, still prefer to stay “nice” – until they have to shout rudely over someone else. I wish them the best in their journey.

Do read the links below, especially the writings of Tasha and Natalie.

***

Thanks Arwen and Paige for your personal assistance in writing this post.

Photo credit: clotho98 on Flickr

Mentioned/Further Reading:

“Body Image, mothers, classism, fashion, Karl Lagerfield, and social inclusion” at lisaschweitzer.com

“Nice White Lady to the Rescue!” at Alas, A Blog

stuff white people do, a blog

“Defensiveness as a Signpost of Privilege” at Shakesville

“Where My Sistas At? The Underrepresentation of Black Plus Size Models in Mainstream Fashion” at racialicious

“Are There Class Cultures?” at classmatters.org

Very brief primer on how classism functions within feminism or women who consider themselves pro-woman, at everything2.com

“Women and Class” (and the avoidance to discuss the latter) at classmatters.org

Tangentially and to sort of soul-destroy anyone still clicking through my links, while searching for a CC-licensed picture I found this charming series of comments under the photo titled “Fatties”. If yer so inclined you can sooth your eyeballs on the photo caption of this treasure: “My Neighbor Is A Big Fat Ugly Pig”. OK, I’ll stop now. Promise.  Just: it was rough finding a photo.

A little ray of sunshine – because there are many people out there working for the Good: definatalie is writing some of the best articles re: fashion snark. Besides her “skinny jeans” post you can read “Confessions of a Former Snarker” recently published on her blog.

  1. This is similar to nice guy vs “Nice Guy“, as explained here and many, many other places. ↩
  2. You can find “Like ANTS Crawling on Your SKIN: Clothing Pet Peeves.” at BfBS. ↩
  3. One of the  most amazing, wonderful rebuttals to this very common and socially-enforced meme is definatalie’s “You Can’t Bully Me Out Of My Skinny Jeans” ↩
  4. Concomitant but not in response to Gertie’s post, blogger Tasha Fierce wrote beautifully on this subject the next day: “The Class Dynamics of DIY” ↩
  5. Op/Ed Column: on Fashion Policing at blogforbettersewing ↩
  6. Derailing for Dummies ↩
Tagged , , , , , , ,
Jun 07 2010
culture, feminism

the cost of “manners” amongst the ladyfolk

Oh, the tension!

What lies beneath? Hint: sometimes, Very Big Scary Feelings.

“Manners are the hypocrisy of a nation.” – Honore de Balzac

Recently on another mommy blog a question is put forth: How do we respond to friends who parent differently? The blog author relates a story of her friend, a carpool mom who one day drops a child off to the mother and says, “I ran through McDonalds for dinner because we were pressed for time, hope that’s okay” to which the mom replied, “Well, it’s really not” [emphasis by the blog author]. The blogger asked us to weigh in on the interaction.

Before I scrolled down to read the comments I predicted the following: the public (and predominantly female) voice would be against the woman who voiced her displeasure. Sure enough: as comments trickle in they cite her as “rude”, “self-righteous”, and “proselytizing”1; public sentiment is set against her (although notably she has been relegated to third-party status, the carpooling friend having related her version to the blog author).

Look, no one needs to say the word “bitch”. We all know how women who slip up and display a lack of social grace or who stand up – if at all imperfectly or “not nice enough” – for their values are going to get heavily policed socially (for instance one commentator says that since the child was being carpooled and this is a service, it was “rude” of the anti-fast food mother to speak up regarding food preferences).

In the comments section I put forth the following: if I ask a friend if something is “okay” I believe I should be prepared to hear the answer, warts and all.  The blog author responded quickly and alternatively inflated or ignored my points: thus my advocacy for authenticity amongst friends meant I was opposed to “civilities” like “How are you?” and that I wanted “every single conversation in my day to be an earnest, honest, heartfelt one”. The blog owner also set up a strawman defense defending her friend’s choice to buy McDonalds (since I am in agreement the mother did nothing “wrong” by purchasing this food, the relevancy of this defense escapes me).

Let me get to my point.

In many female friendships in my peer group, the rituals of “manners” and socially-policed quid pro quo often supplants authenticity and openness.

Go ahead and read the sentence again, carefully. I know it’s kind of a long labored thing. But I wanted to be super accurate in what I’m trying to say.

Look, if I was in the carpooling mom’s position I’d probably have felt stung.  I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to do right by a friend and received either a tacit or explicit referendum on my choice. Most women reading here know the pain of having one’s friend snub us verbally or speak with a “tone”.  It hurts, badly. We simultaneously empathize with our friend and feel horrid about letting her down while we also respond with a reflexive and defensive anger.  These things all make up a big bag of Suffering and like any animal we seek to avoid suffering.

Given that, it can seem seductive to just agree we’ll all play by “manners”.

I like talking about punctuality to illustrate my points on “manners” because this is an issue I have seen play out over and over again over the years.  For instance: according to the code of “manners” I should be on time to your dinner.  But if I am late (which it’s easy to be while juggling small children and a job and daycare and a partner and pets and a household) I may attempt to stifle my feelings of failure at having not performed my social duty of perfection: I will offer an apology and then, right on the heels of that, an excuse for why I was not on time.  This apology-cum-excuse is a nullifying maneuver; as the latecomer I am breathlessly expounding on why the whole issue is all about me and my (small or large) drama, while my host(ess) may feel hurt and/or angry but is powerless to say as much without looking like a troll according to our codes of conduct (I am perfectly aware that in some scenarios lateness does not give offense whatsoever). The host has been outplayed, not so much deliberately but as a side effect of the feminine-means-perfection roles and rituals that create severe social and personal fallout.

Do you know how many women I’ve heard say, “Maria, I’m sorry I’m late.” with the pause and presence that a true apology deserves, perhaps with a gentle hand on Maria’s arm or at least eye contact?  A small handful. These days I apologize in this manner when I’m late but it’s something I’ve had to work on. I still hate being late not only because I want to be considerate to the host(ess) but because of my resultant feelings of female-fail. Manners are ostensibly about the former considerations, yet the rituals of “manners” often play out according to the ugly morass of the latter.  In female society it is so tempting to avoid our discomfort by playing the game, almost a chess match of thrust-and-parry because we don’t want to feel shame and we don’t want to feel “wrong”.

If only our self-saving machinations didn’t have such potential to hurt our friends.

I have long lost count of the times I’ve seen women in a social setting say something is “okay” when really, deep down, it isn’t. Using the example of lateness, I once heard my friend E. excuse herself for being an hour tardy to the dinner fête her friend H. had thrown, because H. had been late to a party E. threw a half year ago. E. kept a list of her friend’s perceived faults (she never once paid for the pot they’d share; she let her kids eat “too much” candy) and then applied her own barter and balancing act based on this internal scorecard (respectively: therefore it was okay if H. footed the booze bill entirely; H. was responsible for the sabotage in E.’s otherwise flawless family dietary plan). This all happened internally; these trades were not negotiated openly nor made known in the friendship.  And if it sounds like normal “human” behavior to some I can tell you E. and H. had deep hurts levied against one another (I got to hear some of them) that also rarely, if ever, were aired directly with one another. No, they were aired more or less to other women entirely. More third-party speech.

I wish I could say the example of E. and H. is a rare one; however it was all too common in my peer group at the time.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Many years ago I had the good fortune to make friends with a woman who was both authentic and purposefully opposed to ad hoc quid pro quo arrangements.  She was going through a hard time in her life and had decided (in self-protection) that relationships should exist with contractual agreements (either verbal or written).  These agreements would, in her mind, keep her “safe” from the types of betrayals (one severe and of marital nature) that had hurt her so in the past.  (More on her contracts and their success in a minute.)

At first my new friend puzzled me because she didn’t play by the “rules”. She would, for instance, not allow me to purchase her latte when I was flush with cash and wished to do so.  It was apparent to me she was not doing this to rebuff me or out of a prickly sensibility around money; she simply didn’t want to risk engaging in the Game. Although I was surprised by her stubborn refusal – which never wavered – my mind also immediately flashed to the many “hints” and jabs that other women voiced about friends who “owed” money for this or that transaction that had been offered in the spirit of a gift.  In this first interaction with my friend I intuited issues around money would be considerable safer and less anxiety-inducing between us (incidentally, this meant a lot to me at the time; being a family of four with all sorts of financial problems cropping up I had little room to spare; life is easier for me today). Over the  years my prediction proved correct.

My friend’s worldview was formed as a self-protective one but as a near side-effect I came to trust her, immensely. I could ask her if she would buy my dinner and she would say, “As a gift, or for repayment? When will you pay me back?” while being truly open to either (and holding herself able to refuse). If I asked her for a favor or an opinion I could trust her response; I wouldn’t have to “prove” my virtue if I asked for something. Concomitantly, I was treated to her direct advocacy; if she didn’t want to watch a movie or eat a certain kind of food she would simply say so.  One time she removed a chair from my house (with my permission) and had a carpenter friend bolster it to support her weight (we had very rickety chairs as a rule). At first I felt an immediate small humiliation that I had so failed in a hostess as to not have adequate furniture. I felt slight aches of shame and reflexive anger.  But knowing her I had no reason to fear she was doing anything other than problem solving for the sake of her comfort so we could enjoy our friendship to its fullest. Over a short period of time my discomfort subsided and I felt gratitude for her action. It also was not lost on me that as a family of four with one income and two small children I perhaps could be forgiven my lapse of furnishings.

Our friendship is longstanding and it has had a portion of wrongs committed and apologies; it has not been free of strife.  I will say that considering how intimate we have been the amount of conflict and hurt I’ve felt is much lower than any friendship I’ve experienced.  The quality of trust, openness, and authenticity in this friendship is still a standout in my life. I am glad for her example as it has informed me in my other friendships. I wish more women would catch on.

As for my friend’s concepts of protective contracts and agreements, this was an issue she struggled much over and her views altered, morphed, spread, and softened. She experienced over time a reality that nothing, not really, could protect her from betrayal and victimization. But she retains her stalwart sense of authenticity, her ability to voice her feelings clearly, and a receptivity when I do the same.

While I could talk more about the quality of this friendship I would like to get back on point with a radical concept.  When our friends respond with honesty (in their words and their tone) that reveals displeasure or hurt in response to our actions, let’s try to remember something.  The anger and hurt we so immediately feel?  This cannot be truthfully attributed as The Entire Fault of the Person Who Is Wronging Us. We can remind ourselves it is our lifelong socialization to be properly feminized and to police other women that is causing us the most pain.

The pain is real but our reactions can improve. We can ask ourselves with gentleness and curiosity, “Why do I put so much pressure on myself to never make a mistake?” We can ask ourselves, “Why do I feel so humiliated and angry so quickly?”  We can remind ourselves, “My friend is trusting me enough to be honest in her communication. Take a deep breath; this is an important moment.”  We can say, “Please tell me more,” and mean it.  We can say (if we decide it is called for) “I’m sorry” to our friend – and mean it.  We can stop saying “sorry” when we don’t mean it.

Maybe we’ll even be brave enough to tell her, when the moment is right, that her tone or response hurt our feelings; maybe we can tell her with openness, without undue attachment to outcome, without reprisal waiting in the wings, with intimacy and honesty and Love.  My guess is she’ll surprise you by apologizing in turn (if she didn’t earlier in that wonderful, open and vulnerable moment).  These are transactions in a friendship that are rare, difficult, beautiful, and form strong relationships. Real female friendship can be accomplished with an eschewal of malicious speech, hidden daggers and the dwelling on hurt feelings, without chewing one’s nails and suffering in silence or venting in the ears of a third-party, never to be aired with clarity to the one who needs us to seek reparations.

“Manners” may serve us reasonably well in fitting in socially (like not shouting “Fuck!” in church) but they are a meager edifice to secure our hearts and minds upon in lieu of honesty; besides the obvious that no two people can agree on when “manners” are called for and when they must be eschewed, and no two people have the same background and therefore education in “manners”, they are in final analysis rituals that are not solely adequate in times of interpersonal difficulties. I have seen the most “mannered” women harbor the deepest and darkest angers, there to fester and become something silent and resentful and twisted.

In contrast I remain in supreme trust that my friend will tell me if I hurt her, and she remains trustful I will listen openly if she tells me.

And yes, we still say “Please” and “Thank you” and “How are you?”

This post is dedicated to my good friend Cynthia.

***

Photo credit: x-ray_delta_one on Flickr

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Apr 27 2010
culture, family, feminism

childbirth is natural / childbirth is danger danger!! or perhaps: if you’re a woman you suck

Newborn Nels

I totally had this baby to make you all happy, and it didn't even work!

A recent slight disintegration of discussion at a feminist blog I generally enjoy underscores the facts:

Women get it coming and going regarding childbirth and children. Just: constantly. And from the most elaborate and varied angles.  It’s almost breathtaking.

Just a primer in case you’re completely clueless: women are put down if they don’t want children or feel ambivalent on the subject. Childfree women (or childless women, or if someone can find a term that doesn’t offend those with kids or without, let me know) are harangued pretty regularly – when will you have kids? What? You don’t want to? Why not? What’s wrong with you? Oh you poor (unnatural, frigid, spiritually-devoid) thing.  If you don’t have kids you don’t have a life.  Tsk tsk.

Women who do want children but can’t make it happen – their bodies don’t provide the technology, they don’t feel they could support a child, they don’t have the support they require, there are physical or mental or chemical or financial barriers?  These women are constantly marginalized from the smallest throw-out sentences in children’s books (“A womb is a special place inside a woman where babies grow” purrs a very well-meaning, liberal-sentiment children’s book) to the glowing pictures of women-in-hospital, life fulfilled, yay baby!  Birth is talked about as “natural” – yet in the fervor to reclaim and rescue America’s abysmal birth culture these discussions can further alienate and hurt those who don’t have a “natural” or complication-free experience.  Infertility is somehow still a woman’s “fault” or failure; at best there is an insensitivity about the whole business.  ”Just adopt!” chirps the seriously problematic hand-wave (socioeconomic class fail, to start) so many pipe up with when a woman has a problem breeding the more typical way. To my own consternation I hear women chirping proudly how easily they get pregnant, it happened at the drop of a hat, blah blah, with no regard to the woman standing next to them whose eyes fill with tears at hearing such oblivious enthusiasm.

Women who want children and then have them?  Here’s where we get right up close to the subject of birth where misogyny really ramps up.  You see garden-variety and boring misogyny when birth is discussed in any detail: accounts of orgasmic birth* (best-case, awesome birth scenario) and birth rape** (a very bad-case scenario) vilified, pooh-pooh’d, or ridiculed.  It would be boring and played-out if I didn’t regularly see how much these dismissals hurt actual women, their children, their partners, their families.

I’m one of the last category mentioned above – a woman who wanted, then had children – and I could wax eloquently on how that opens a whole shit-storm of criticism.  You birth the baby in the hospital or with drugs?  You’re a sell-out, a wimp, a failure, either a privileged prima donna or a sad statistic.  This goes double (or triple) if you have a C-section or if you (gasp!) formula-feed your child.  Women are cut open and subjected to the complications of heavy-duty abdominal surgery (the current C-section rate in this country is on the rise and at about 30 percent; some states have a 38% rate) and then the women themselves are made to feel like failures.

Have a baby at home (on purpose)?  You are an irresponsible, silly, vain (or ignorant) hippie.  [raises hand]

And for mothers, this is just what you’ll get five minutes after breeding the little person(s).  I haven’t got into the de-statusing and wage gaps and judgment (work outside the home or not? You’ll get it either way) and picking-at for childcare and schooling and career choice that await women in all walks of life.

Not everyone wants to admit this, but babies and childbirth are kind of everyone’s business – yes, men too. And yet your “everyday man” and fathers are, of course, mostly exempted from the vicious part of these conversations. While (white) men are still the primary women’s health policy makers, the OBs (who generally assist in most births in this country), the law- and policy-makers in this country, and even though they are often in positions that direct quite a bit about how pregnancy, labor and delivery goes down for many American women, they do not suffer the consequences and recrimination for birth outcomes nor passionate discussions about integrating family life with paid work. In the trenches, where women hurt the most, some of their bodies savaged or messed with and their life choices – to breed or not to breed, and how things play out when living their lives – sneered at, their emotions on edge and their sufferings and triumphs diminished or laughed at.  Too few men take these issues up as the human rights concerns they are.  Women are shunned and blamed for their suffering, if not additionally accused of Ruining America for being not-mothers or not-good-enough mothers or over-involved mothers.

I have no easy answers.  Yet probably Step One would be to give more credence to women and their lived experiences.  If a woman says she doesn’t want to have a child, please do not second-guess nor pity her, and please take away from this Actual Real Woman a commitment to stop assuming all women want babies, babies, piles of babies.  If the statistics show a wage gap and a lack of fair housework distribution between heterosexually-paired partners, respect that as a reality that involves, you know, actual people, and is a further testimony to our culture’s continued inequalities which yes, we should be working to fix.  If a woman speaks up about her birth or birth culture in this country, please take this as seriously as a discussion on your pet social justice topic, because reproductive rights and experiences fall under human rights issues that are happening to, again, real people.  Allow the many suffering women and babies and the statistics in America’s poor birth climate some consideration.  If you can’t or won’t do much about it, at least respect those who are fighting the good fight.  Because there are good reasons to fight it.

Step Two might be to stop attacking individual women for their choices or their life circumstances.  Just because you are personally squeamish about the phrase “orgasmic birth” does not give you the right to mock the real, actual women who find the subject important.  Just because you breastfed and stayed home to take care of your children does not give you the right to weigh in on the love, hard work, and commitment of any particular woman who did not (in this example) breastfeed or stay home.  Remember, we don’t pick on dads for this stuff, which is a red-flag for sexism at best.

And finally – again, just for starters – we all need to listen and believe.  Because something about the anti-women sentiments that rear up in these conversations remind me of a phrase I hear oft-repeated in school and childcare environments, a phrase I have never liked: “You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit”.  Our cultural history has been one of silencing women, calling their concerns about housework or babies or jobs with or without kids silly, allowing their bodies to pay the price for being female.  You don’t have to understand it all (indeed, even highly-involved activists are continually learning), but belittling the conversation?  Uh, no.

Because: “If you don’t find time to change the world, then you’re busy keeping it the way it is.” (unattributed)

Mentioned/Further Reading:

“Non-Medical Reasons for a Rise in Caesarian Sections” at Sociological Images

* Several accounts of orgasmic birth at unassistedchildbirth.com

** Birth rape: “More Than a Traumatic Birth” at truebirth.com

A review of Heather Has Two Mommies at Raising my Boychick

“Maternal Death in the United States: A Problem Solved or a Problem Ignored?”, 3 part article by Ina May Gaskin

VBACtivism at the Feminist Breeder

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
Feb 25 2010
culture, family, feminism

breeding, & how not to be an (inadvertent) jerk

Yo y mi amigas

Me (far right) and my girlhood (and non-babybirthing, so far) friends, some of whom may resent me or think I

I want to talk about the people you know – your friends, your family, those who may be dear to you – who don’t have children. Because seriously – Mama, Daddy? You could probably be doing better – if you’re ready and willing to try.

Here’s the thing: once you have a kid, there’s a faction of people that will just hate on your (and your child[ren]‘s) ass(es). I’ve read up on and thought about and pondered these examples of Hate in our culture – and no matter what the specific rant may be (pregnant women do not deserve extra consideration on a bus because they choozes to be pregnant, urban parents’ strollers are too big and full of too much expensive stuff and they’re such assholes for this) – what it really comes down to is that some childfree hate on parents because we, and our kids, have the audacity to exist. It’s about taking up space, mostly – space coming at more of a premium these days, our environment and planet being strained, and here we toddle out our snot-nosed little vacuum cleaners, sucking up even more of everything.  Children are, to an extent, reliant on grownups – they are almost entirely helpless when they are born.  They need our care, plain and simple.  Some childfree folks can’t wrap their mind around this – after all, taking care of oneself can be a difficult business! – so their head just asplodes.

That’s not all, though: some versions of childfree hate-of-breeders are informed by the attitudes of many who feel pressured that they aren’t deemed “worthy” by society until they’ve Married and Babied (this is their baggage, but it’s more complex than that, and I’ll discuss this more in a minute), a hefty dollop of Ignorance – thinking that by seeing how you and your bambino behave on your worst day of the week tells them, really, anything much about the whole picture – as well as an illusion of Control, which many of us parents and caregivers have now had mercifully shattered thanks to our pants-shitting and willful progeny.

I don’t really need to link you to or quote any specific breeder-hate, do I? If you’ve parented your children for a couple years you’re well-seasoned in it.  Sometimes I wish I could rid my mind of it certain examples so chilling and ugly they remain with me like an indelible soul-stain: off and on for the last couple months, my mind keeps going over a rant on heartless-bitches.com entitled “Entitlement-Minded Mommies (and their partners)” – such a caustic, soulless, and judgy spewing of vitriol I won’t even link below.

My purpose here is not to address the Haters out there, who will never particularly care about our actual experiences – any discussion of what it’s really like for us to meet our friends and family’s needs will be met with, “Maybe you should have thought about that before you had a kid” (ha! Hahahaha!) – nor expand their worldview to include reflection on Fact: every person who has ever existed has for a significant number of years needed the care and stewardship of others (if we live a long and full life, indeed our span may be bookended by such realities).

I’d like to talk about friendship.

First, Acknowledge: You Have More People To Feed
I think as parents, maybe sometime around year two, we should be allowed at least one full month in a closet hysterically crying, because it’s just that big a deal and that much of a strain for so many of us.  You know, kind of constantly, and in the backdrop, whatever others may see on the surface.  We have good days and feel on top of the world; our bad days bring us so very much lower than we thought Low could go; besides watching our children suffer we get to feel like whatever is wrong hurts or threatens our babies is Our Fault – such low points are like a straight-up toxic cocktail of fear, remorse, anxiety, and what can sometimes seem like a neverending burden to bear.

So sure, most childfree have very little concept of what parenthood is like: the care for, feeding of, nurturing of, worrying about (something very, very few – if any – involved parent could avoid), and guidance of the children; the constancy of financial, spiritual, emotional, and physical (including the feeding of, cleaning up after, bodily care of, and provision of clothing) resources needed.  But guess what?  Our responsibilities shouldn’t give us a free pass to stop doing, you know, the rest of life.

In my experience not every friend, acquaintance, or family member has understood my circumstances as a mother.  Well, fine.  It’s the truth, and they don’t have to understand it fully.  The question is: how am I going to do what’s right given these are my circumstances?  How can I love my friends and be there for them even if I’m not who I used to be?

Watch Your Mouth
Seriously?  When you say stuff about your husband and your kids, are you being careful?  Our culture gives special support to those who are the following: white, upper- or middle-class, cis-gender, able-bodied, straight, and married.  This support for a “typical” life is so pervasive and seen as is-ought (or preferred) that it ends up creating a pressured and unpleasant place to live for many who exist outside these parameters: they end up marginalized both directly and indirectly, coarsely and with finesse.  Since I myself fall into these categories I’m guessing many of my readers do too.

So, stop talking and consider what you’re saying.  Are you through your words and actions in any way implying that the married, straight, breeding life is normative and prescriptive, an experience all should live or are going to live?  Just stop that business right now.  Consider dissolving your marriage, if you’re totally bad-ass and want to support equal rights for gay and lesbian couples.  If you can’t (or won’t) do that you can read up on heterosexism, you can refer to your husband or wife as “spouse” or “partner”, you can stop doing unthinking things at Moms’ groups like saying, “Where does your husband work?” (which assumes this woman you just met is straight and married to a traditional breadwinner). Language is important because in part it forms the reality for those around us; even more important are the assumptions we carry and those we pass on – sometimes to harmful effect.

So, stop.  Stop assuming anyone else has, or should have, a partner or child(ren).  Seriously, I feel so silly writing this out because it’s rather 101, and this space is not generally a 101 space.  But I see enough of this kind of thing it bears mention.

There’s more: do not say, “When you’re a parent you will understand.”  Duh!  You can say, “I didn’t understand this until I was a parent,” if that applies.  Because it’s true, and hell, probably valuable to say!  And it doesn’t sound condescending nor assume everyone should squirt out some kids to be able to have a well-enough formed opinion!

Language is more than language, and the pursuit of better language – besides influencing other people, and our society and peer groups – changes us within.  When I stop assuming that Parenthood is some kind of journey essential to Wholeness – when I systematically begin to stamp out the wisps of this wrong-headed thinking – I am more open to my world, my friends, their needs and their potential positive influences.  When I stop assuming everyone should (and wants to) get Married I appreciate my own partner at the same time as recognizing, to some extent, the circumstantial nature of our union; I acknowledge the impermanence of this arrangement – however important I hold it – and feel humble, open, and grateful.

Take Care Of Yourself & Whomever Else You Can
I don’t owe my childfree friends a visit to the bar, or a hang-out at their black tie party, or my appearance at their child-excluding housewarming fete (these are real examples from my real life).  I owe them my friendship – more about this in a minute – but the truth is, when you’re a parent you have a few obstacles they’ve likely not considered, and the first that immediately comes to mind is a little complex:

As a family of four on one income, paid-for sitting is something of a fucking luxury, that is when I can find someone on a Friday night in the first place.  And maybe a party or the bar with girlfriends wouldn’t be a first choice when that luxury is obtained: for instance, if I have the kids out of the house I’d like to have the night with my spouse working on projects together, maybe watching a movie, and then getting up to dirty, dirty lovin’. There’s no friend in the world who can compete with that most days.  In fact, if I do go out with you while my kids are being looked after and my partner is available for that movie-watching, house-work, and spousal intercourse?  Then you should consider yourself highly esteemed in my eyes.

Another truth adding to the complexity of the “Why don’t you get out more?” business: our culture is a terrible, terrible village when it comes to raising kids.  Thusly before I had children I thought you know, now and then others would care for them.  And yet in my eight years as a parent, most of those who’ve cared for my kids have been either A. my own mother, or B. other mothers.  My childfree friends have not watched my kids gratis but a handful of times (and those that did have been predominantly female); my male relatives, not once.

Do I “expect” those in my life to watch my kids?  Not really, as in I did not feel particularly entitled to that assistance.  Have I been surprised just how segregated and hands-off the non-parents of this world are?  Hell yes.  Seriously – what is going on there? My children are not that terrifying!

Another reality: you can’t leave little ones in the house alone; and our culture currently pressures parents to not leave a child unsupervised until age twelve.* In terms of social nightlife – unless you can afford regular babysitting or repeatedly burdening your mom-friends with additional kid-care – that’s like a jail sentence!

So when it comes to friendships, for many of us it hasn’t been easy to maintain them without kids in attendance; and yet, some childfree begrudge the accompaniment of said youngsters into the friendship sphere.  No matter the amount of time you can and choose to take from your little ones, give yourself credit: your time is a precious commodity these days in a way others may not understand.

Be There
You’re probably reading this and, if you have kids, feeling hey, possibly you have let down some of your friends and family.  Fine.  The point is not that you should feel terrible for having been swallowed up by the care of children (Hey, guess what, people who haven’t had babies! Did you know newborn babies require to be fed and diapered about every hour and a half, around the clock! It’s fucking crazy!  Just a little informational tidbit!), but that you can show your friends your love by re-committing to the relationship.

The ways to do this are literally endless: it might be as simple as making an effort to listen more and talk less.  Last night I spent about a half hour in deep discussion with two friends regarding the training, care of, and feeding of their purebred dogs, and I didn’t once minimize their experiences by you know, comparing dog-ownership to child-raising while concluding child-raising is so much harder, or more important.**  I wasn’t pretending to care about my friends’ pets; it’s a genuine interest of mine.  I want to know my friends, not merely exchange quid pro quo fake expressions of interest.

Respect
Your kids?  Oh my gosh.  Your kids are so awesome.  They are literally the awesomest things ever.  I know this, because I too have THE CHILDRENZ.  But, how would you feel if you had a friend who bought some bright-red sportscar and then talked about little else for, oh, years?  Not too good, eh?

So, don’t talk just about your kids.  Again, duh, but – there it is, a complaint I’ve heard more often regarding new parents than those who’ve been doing this a while (but seriously, non-parents, did you read the part about how babies eat and poo around the clock and it’s like Anti-Sleep Boot Camp? Yeah, turns out it kind of occupies your Life a while).  So anyway, parents and caregivers: Listen.  Settle down.  Be present.  Be grateful for your time with your friends when you can get it.  If family needs are pressing or stressful, fine.  But realize that often our childfree friends and family aren’t in a great position to empathize or advise.  You can know if they’ve turned off or unable to comprehend by the tone of their voice, the quality of eye contact.  Whether you choose to continue the discussion is up to you.

That thing about listening?  Yes, that means occasionally listening to subjects that at first seem to hold little interest.  You cannot fake this one.  If you truly believe deep-down that your children and familyhood are more important than your friend’s passion for mountain climbing, or your sister’s squawky love birds, well first off: you’re an asshole (imagine how you’d feel back before you had children and were juggling three jobs or maybe college and an internship and a terrible cheating girlfriend or whatever, and your friend was condescending and disinterested because in their eyes you weren’t living some version of “real life”?  Not too fun, eh?).  Secondly: if you can’t bring yourself to care about what they’ve got going for themselves, ask yourself why you’re friends with this person.  If you can’t meet them at their needs maybe what you have is a drinking buddy or an ego-boost or whatever – not a true friend.  Be honest with yourself.

And then, hell, you may have to end a few friendships.  I broke up with a friend five years ago because even though I followed him down his fork of the road, and cared about his interests, these sentiments were ultimately not reciprocated (the letter, as linked below, intimates that I did not tell him my feelings; actually, I did change my mind and send him a copy).  This actually hurt, a lot, even though I don’t kid myself he felt the same.  Still, it was the honest and appropriate response:  we simply weren’t friends any more.

Life’s too short to be regularly half-assed.  Your childfree friends deserve your respect and consideration as much as they ever did, no matter how much your circumstances have changed.  And they can learn a lot from you, too – if their minds are open and you represent yourself fearlessly and honestly.

* Age twelve is not a legal requirement; that is a cultural standard that makes little sense to me, more about that some other time.

** It must be said: I have heard many childfree pet owners claim the responsibilities inherent in pet care to be identical to that of having children. LOL<sob!>

Mentioned / Further Reading:

Heterosexism at Wikipedia (I particularly liked the section on Heterosexism vs. Homophobia)

Heterosexism 101, a questionaire from One Hundred Little Dolls

“Dear Ex-Fellow Collegiate”, from my blog – five years ago

Tagged , , , , , ,
Feb 19 2010
culture, family

good luck with that really hard work! & here’s some more unrestrained vitriol:

Ruffians

My entitled, terrible children

This morning when I log in for my morning Inter-netz fix I immediately see two of my Tweeps (yes, I use that phrase! My husband hates it! It means a person I follow or who follows me on Twitter, if you are someone like my Mom who is reading this!) have linked to the online Details Magazine article: “Are You Raising a Douchebag?” And I simply can’t help it – I have to click through. For one, I’ve caught the trendy and infectious glee of the insult “douche”, just like everyone else.*  Secondly, I feel myself drawn to the latest bit of Parenting Pop-Culture Babble even though, upon bringing the article up, I experience that inward groan as I’m assailed by ALL CAPS:

ARE YOU RAISING A DOUCHEBAG?
YOUR INDULGENT PARENTING IS SPAWNING A GENERATION OF ENTITLED HIPSTER BRATS

Right.  That by-line?  Chances that this author (one David Hochman) has absolutely nothing valuable to offer in what follows except a series of smarmy zingers that sound kind of truthy about today’s kids – and at some point he will lean back and sweepingly claim these observations apply to a lot of kids, hell maybe even “kids today” if we’re lucky?: One Hundred to Yes.

Sure enough, the following copy is a relatively dense body of pithy snark about Terrible Kids and the Terrible Parents Who Raise Them (yes, “spoiled” gets trotted out, as does “brat”, “fetishized celebrities”, and a handful of other juicy kid-hate phrases).  Hochman illustrates in detail the snotty little shits who send back foie gras and “fashion-bull[y]” their peers if the latter aren’t wearing Junior Dolce & Gabbana (I had to copy and paste that from the original article! Because I do not know how to spell fashion houses! Because I know nothing about fashion!).  For being a relatively short article (and a remarkably insubstantial one), it is packed with quips like, “Put it this way: If it’s your child, not you, who gets to choose your weekend brunch spot, or if he’s the one asking how the branzino is prepared, it’s probably time to take a hard look at your own behavior.”

Ha ha! Yes!  This is so relevant to so many parents I know.  Actually, none!  Okay! Let’s move on:

Also, Hipster Hate.  It’s so fun!  I mean, doing an exacting send-up of hipsters means we get to demonstrate our knowledge of said Hip cultural edifices (what’s branzino?) but at the same time sneeringly dismiss those who are enthusiastic about pursuing them.  Picking on hipsters – it’s almost like a way to dehumanize a group of people and assume they only have the most shallow, superficial personalities and aren’t real, whole, earnest human beings!  Nevermind that I have yet to meet someone who self-identifies as “hipster”, but I have heard about a hundred examples of people smirkingly referring to others as such.  I could gladly go the rest of my life not hearing the moniker invoked as a vague, snooty pejorative, but I fear I won’t be allowed to.

Midway through the article there’s a brief, oh so brief, departure from picking on contemporary and/or wealthy parents and their kiddos:

It’s not just about money, though. Since the nineties, a surge in overprotective parenting has promoted discussion over discipline and made leisure activities contingent upon nanny CPR training (have you ever even considered letting your kid play with a pocket knife or a rusty Flexible Flyer, never mind have a paper route?).

Off-topic: at this moment my own children are playing with a pocket knife and a rusty Flexible Flyer (and likely an arc welder to join the two), but let’s get back on point.

So apparently we’ve had some “discussion over discipline” since the nineties. That’s some terrible shit.  Or wait – what do you even mean by that? Nevermind, forget a relevant discussion about overprotective parenting (and there are many to be had)** – no, we need hand-wringing and broad statements! Cue quote from author Katie Allison Granju:

We no longer allow children to have personal autonomy, to experience hard knocks, or to take real risks. [...] The result is a nation of overweight, overindulged, overly neurotic kids who whine and moan and often can’t function on their own.

Right. An entire generation.  Not one parent allows one kid to take a risk, ever.  Oh, and TEH FATTIEZ!

Why do I care about this article?  I know what you’re thinking: Why fuss? It’s a blip on the screen.  Yet, I see so much of this sort of thing: an author inexpert on the topic, gathering up a bunch of “authorities” to make a bunch of sweeping claims about Parents and Kids Today, as if today’s parenting culture was a monolith of Borg-like assholes going through the motions, rather than a complex, heavily nuanced series of mores, values, and traditions being fought in the trenches by, you know, real people.  In fact I’d posit that part of today’s parenting culture, indeed, are the throw-away judgy articles like this one, and I cringe when I read them – because I know how bad they make people feel, and not bad in a “Hey, you’re right, thanks for putting your finger on it!  I’d been feeling bummed about this. Now let’s motivate myself for some change!” way.  Just: bad.

Because oh my gosh! You are not writing this article in a cultural vacuum! Do you have any idea how much judgment/hate there is out there for parents? (especially moms, that’s the funnest Hate there is!).  In fact, maybe that’s why it’s so easy to write and publish this kind of thing – that stuff is out there like oxygen, yours for the taking and inspiration!

Do articles like this help anyone?  Is there a reader out there who, even though unable to relate entirely to the name-dropping and moneyed institutions referenced therein (or maybe they can; more about this in a minute), nevertheless feels that tug of, “Maybe that’s me, raising a douchey kid”?  Oh… maybe. Maybe one or two (note: article will not provide a course of action if this is the case).  Are there lots and lots of other parents who read this and feel gripped with a vague anxiety and an intense knowledge of how much they are judged by the public when out and about with their kiddos?  Uh-huh.  Are there a handful of parents who read this and feel smug that these are other (“rich”) parents raising a generation of jerks?  Yup.  Are there lots of other childfree people who read this and feel their breeder hate (and profound ignorance of some of the realities of parenting) increase? Oh heck yeah.  So hey, good job!

I realize many people write copy to get paid, so a zingy article is the goal in and of itself.  I just wish there was so, so much less of this kind of thing.  Writing an extremely critical article about Entitled Brats and how many of them there are today – apparently cared for by parents who only, only care about living some hip, urbane life – it just doesn’t match up to reality.

Because you know what’s weird?  I actually know parents.  I know a lot of them! Oops, I even am a parent! Weird how this happens! And I can tell you, despite the harsh terminology of articles like this, and the inevitable trotting out of the evil “friend” parent (never has any other progenitor assed out so thoroughly on their job, says the finger-wagging expert, than the Friend Parent), I do not personally know a single parent who doesn’t care very, very much about what kind of person their child is, and who he/she is becoming.  Daily in my life, friends seek me out to talk about their kids’ development, and not even in some hyper-vigilant, paranoid, fussy way.  Like, I’m raising this kid, what should I feed them? & My kid got hit in the face at school.  It’s no big deal but he’s a little sad. & Oh, my kid’s having trouble at night, growing pains.  What do you do for that? Oooooh, what a bunch of tightly-wound superficial assholes we all are.

So, you know, even if as an American parent you’re wary of the popularity of parent-hate, I think articles like these don’t mean much besides a bunch of judgy horseshit.  This particular article is just taking aim and firing at the moneyed, urban (and I daresay mostly white) variety.  If you are a parent whose lifestyle touches on some of the cultural markers referenced – you fly first class and take ski trips and go to brunch – okay, then.  Good luck with that, because this article at least gives you no help at how to navigate your privileged cultural terrain while raising a conscientious, empathetic kid (and just so you know, I don’t hate on money; our family wage puts us at working class but I myself feel relatively privileged by the world’s standards; besides, no matter where you are in America’s socio-economic specturm, empathy is one of our hardest jobs as parents).  Or wait, at the very end Mr. Hochman instructs you not to have such elaborate birthday parties.  And to hire the services of Child Minded, a parent-coaching with a fee of $1200 a day.

And if you are a parent, and your kid is kind of an asshole?  Well, I for one am not going to hate on you.  It happens. BTDT. Call me up, and let’s talk.  I’ll put the coffee on.

(Edited to add: my online friend Daniel Bigler penned a less-ranty, more spot-on post re: the Details piece; you can read it at his blog, last link below).

Mentioned:

Bill Corbett & Lenore Skenazy

Details Magazine, “Are You Raising a Douchebag?”

* “Douchebag; An Insult for the Ages” at The Rotund

“Truthiness”

** Free Range Kids, a blog; my own thoughts on “Just In Case” parenting

Katie Allison Granju (blog)

Daniel Bigler’s post at his blog

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Jan 21 2010
6,087 Comments
culture, family

freedom ain’t free, or sometimes even particularly supported

Sophie, Nels, bus ride, banana cake

They obviously should be kept locked up.

Late last year I was with my youngest shopping for thread at the quilt store.  The proprietress – whom I adore; she and I have a great friendship – asked about my eldest child (we homeschool so I often have the kids with me out and about).  I said she was off riding a bus to the bakery and back home.

The easy shopkeep/customer conversation came to – well, not quite a halt, more like a hiccup. “[Gasp!] You let her out alone?” the woman said to me.  I was feeling pretty confident* – because I really do feel good about our lifestyle – so I replied, “Yeah, we ride the bus together all the time. She knows what’s she’s doing.” The woman responded, “Well, I’m sure she does.  But I’d be nervous about predators!”

I’ve had the most success in conversations like this saying, “Yeah, many people really do worry about that,” and not saying anything more, because I’m usually about to hear an earful.  People often seem to want to vent their fears.  They aren’t always (or even that often) responding to or judging me and my choices, they’re discharging a bit of that “world is a scary place” stuff they live with.  (I’m not excusing those who perpetrate fear from their role in the larger picture of a fear-based culture, fear-based news, etc…  I’m just saying that I have compassion for people needing to vent).  So anyway, usually I just kind of bounce back with a, “I hear this is a concern of yours,” type of response, and that seems to keep the friendship and conversation intact without going into a content debate – you know, perhaps delineating some facts about dangers to children, etc.  Oh, and these facts? ** A surprising number of the “scary place” people seem not that interested in discussing them.

Back to my conversation with the proprietress.  This time I went a bit further and I responded by saying:  “Well, I don’t really worry about that.” The problem is I feel like I came off worse for saying that.  She gave me a goggle-eyed stare and I swear I looked like a mom who is Woefully Naive or maybe, Doesn’t Care About Her Children.  I mean for all I know my worldview is rubbing off on this woman – after all, I know she likes me, thinks I’m smart, and knows I care about my kids.  But in the moment – as I’ve heard said before, the fear-monger gets to look concerned, and I get to look cavalier.  And reader – I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but I am anything but cavalier regarding my childrens safety.  I have thought, read, discussed, digested, and meditated for long hours on the subject.

I probably will go back to my, “I hear you,” response for the now.  Anything more loud-mouthed or joyous sometimes comes off, well, badly. And I’ve noticed when I quote safety statistics in a conversation like this, that doesn’t seem to impress or convince anyone…  Honestly, sometimes I don’t know what response I should have.  Depending on the person talking to me I have also tried the, “Wow, it sounds like you think you care more about the safety of my child than I do,” which can work rather well – I say it nicely, not like a jerk, promise.

I think what I’ve discovered is sometimes, to experience freedom, you have to choose it – and you can’t worry too much what others might think.  I’m pretty earnest about raising my kids right, even if that means sometimes not doing like so many others do.  It hurts a little when a friend, or a beloved acquaintance, takes issue with one of my number one parenting priorities: allowing my children their autonomy and strength.  In cases like this, I can tell by the friend’s words, their tone, and their body language that they think I am committing grievous error.  Of course, their concerns are nothing I haven’t considered before (so far), and I am not immune to hearing more feedback or information – in fact, I welcome it (a recent email begins, “Lest there by any doubt, I want you to know that I deeply respect your [and by this I mean yours and Ralph's] thoughtfulness, intro- and intra-spection, analytical thought process, bravery and FUNDANMENTAL [sic] HONESTY. And so on to my point….”).  After all, it was discussion, research, thought, and heart that got me where I am today; I’m not interested in closing any of those avenues.  I’m not saying it’s wrong for people to express concern or openly disagree with me – these aren’t bad things in themselves.  I’m just saying, it always stings a little, to think of myself out on my own.  It’s why I write, I suppose; I know I can’t be the only person to see things my way, to want to give and receive support.

My daughter has had so many exploits on her own; I hardly remember this particular mid-December outcome.  And it gives no small comfort to think of her life, threaded with these adventures in autonomy, exploration, and yes – experiencing these things with many adults who know her by name and, in their various ways, love and care for her.  In my way I am allowing for the childhood that so many think is a good one and too many have given up on: how many times have I heard such childhoods recounted in blazing, fond detail?  I was recently at a gathering and heard such an account, as I’ve heard many times before: an older person recounting their own adventures, hitchhiking on sand trucks to go fishing, walking three miles to the river to swim, home in time for dinner… These experiences aren’t merely brain-farts of an elderly mind, or cutesy fables that have no relevance today: no, they are a life lived, they are the essential qualities of a healthy childhood.  Our children should and in many cases can be allowed relative safety, the love and care and feeding of by adults, sure – but also risk, autonomy, the unknown, equal parts responsibilities and freedoms, room to find oneself – and dinner waiting at home.

“But of course, things are different now,” the older person will usually conclude their story, their eyes re-focusing in the present; and yes, although the storyteller may know crime rates have decreased since the seventies, and that, you know, it isn’t necessarily less safe out there, they also know it is perceived as such by so many, and that is no small thing.  Many of my peers, as parents, don’t live in a state of confidence and empowerment, they live in a state of uneasiness and vague belabored paranoia.

Confidence and empowerment are partially what you make of them; I hope by grasping at the brass ring that I can inspire others to feel easier and go with their instincts, their innate intelligence, their sense of right and wrong, and their sense of their children.

- KH

* Seriously?  Thank you so much, Lenore Skenazy at Free Range Kids, for a new American movement reclaiming our parenthood and our childhood.

Mentioned:

Free Range Kids, the website and the book

** Facts & discussions of facts:

Your child is more likely to die in a car accident than be abducted by a stranger. 24 times more likely, by the way.

No, really.  Why do you feel so safe shuttling your kid about in a car, but so worried about letting her walk four blocks to the library?

If you wanted a child to be abducted, statistically you’d have to leave them unsupervised for – guess how long?  750,000 years.

It is not illegal to leave a young child unsupervised; only two states have age requirements for unsupervised care.

Our television “news” is obsessed with stranger abductions, often reporting over and over again cases 10, 20, 30 years old.

A personal story of an unsupervised child escorted home by police, on my blog

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Dec 26 2009
6,105 Comments
Uncategorized

OHNOES i’ve been squandering my “sex favor” cards!

Happily married!The day after Christmas a friend posted an article on her Facebook profile*, entitled “Men Who Help Clean Get More Sex”, from Limelife.com. It’s a subject I’ve seen many times online – another study that reports, in effect, that a relationship with a more egalitarian share of household responsibilities often enjoys more sex (although this study in particular – link below – seems to be talking specifically about high-energy couples – high-energy in work together and in sexual activity).

The way this relatively lightweight Limelife piece presents the information is typical of the many articles I’ve seen on the topic (and that you will see if you do a simple Google search). It contains the following assumptions and implicit assertions:

1. In a heterosexually-partnered relationship, housework is a woman’s responsibility. A man can choose to “help” if he wishes.

2. Sex isn’t a mutual act: men are the pursuant party and women the pursued (or withholding). It makes sense for men to use “brownie points” to get sex, because:

3. Women don’t want sex for sex’s sake. It’s something they dole out as a reward; or, to use the headline, something men “get” out of their women if they play their cards right.

4. Women find the sight of their male partner doing housework a “turn on” in and of itself – as opposed to male partners doing their share of housework being an element of a healthier relationship that helps heterosexual women stay happier, healthier, and sexually vigorous.

Several studies from diverse sources show that as a group heterosexually-partnered males do half of the work in the home that women do, regardless of paid or outside employment. In my own observances, well – let’s just say by example one of the many myriad and minor reasons I left Facebook were the handful of female acquaintances who’d post status messages like, “My husband is doing the dishes! I am the LUCKIEST LADY ALIVE!” without a trace of irony. As far as amorous relations, I don’t have much of a window into my friends’ sex lives – and they don’t have much into mine. But I do know a dismaying number of married-to-men women who heap all kinds of grateful praise and “rescuing” on their partner for considerably less effort and performance than they, as females, perform daily, day in, day out, over and over.

This hits home, too. My own husband is often the recipient of a glorified pedestaling for the kind of work I regularly do without much comment from outside parties; he has countless times been called “Superdad” for – I kid you not – taking care of his own kids and sometimes other people’s. And just so you know – in case you, dear reader are childfree and/or unaware – women do stuff like arrange playdates and take care of kids All. The. Time.** I’ll let my husband speak for himself more eloquently on his oft-prescribed moniker of “Superdad!” but suffice to say: he finds it demeaning and insulting to himself, and unfair to his wife.

Obviously, in any individual relationship there are mitigating factors, and my intention here is not to personally weigh in on any particular couple or couple’s habits. For instance: perhaps in the case of the abovementioned Facebook status the husband had done a bunch of OTHER awesome stuff earlier in the day. However, taken as a sum the truth is: we expect less out of our men and they are only too happy to deliver (or, as I like to more charitably believe, won’t decide to deliver unless we educate them on the necessity that they do so).

The sad thing is, ultimately, all this seems to point to a cultural devaluation of heterosexually-partnered women’s health and happiness. Concomitant to this (not-very) mind-blowing concept that dudes should maybe pick it up at home I saw recently, on a web medical information site, an absolute glut of queries regarding a low sex-drive in women and wives – and many, many medications, remedies, and long lists of nutritional do’s and don’ts to “fix” the problem. I’m left wondering: do the mojo-draining twin forces of overwork and deep resentment perhaps have anything at all to do with women’s libido and desire? Naaaah. Let’s keep to that whole, “What do women want? Ah, who knows! Let’s give ‘em a pill to get ‘em horny for us.” It’s just easier that way.

As for me? I actually do have a husband who does his share. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need reminders and re-education because, yeah, there is a right way to put away the dishes, bro. In fact, in our case – with one partner working at home and the other in paid employment – he’s at a bit of a disadvantage when he comes home and is thrust into the house ins and outs. But he knows it’s his job to do figure it out and do his share, and so do I. He’s a really, really fabulous guy (he’s also great in the sack, so I guess – bonus?), and I’m grateful to have such a partner. But I think I’m pretty cool too; I’ve been doing the hard, hard work of casting off the expectation I should do most (if not all) of the work en casa, and expect very little of – or be inordinately grateful for – his “help”.

* I don’t actually have a Facebook account, but I sometimes check my husband’s.

** Another thing people do? A lot? When a father of an infant is taking care of his own child, they call it “babysitting” (as opposed to, you know, parenting).

Mentioned:

“Men Who Help Clean Get More Sex”

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Jun 13 2009
culture, feminism, film revue

film feministe: the cinematic man-child and his perpetual harem of willing, nubile females

Happy Sailing!

Last night my husband and I spent a few sawbucks to watch the latest film starring Will Ferrell, Land of the Lost. Since we have young children and a working class income, a night with just the two of us is usually spent in simple pleasures: dinner together, a bit of housekeeping, a glass of wine and a silly film. Both of us, though we enjoyed this latest inane Ferrell comedy (the meat and potatoes of our mindless entertainment proclivities), were disappointed by the disturbing yet somehow boring repetitions of the same racist, sexist, and heterosexist foibles we keep seeing in today’s featured blockbuster comedies.

Land of the Lost evidences the seminal properties that define what I call the Man-Boy Movie. Ferrell plays Dr. Rick Marshall, a version of character repeated in countless comedies du jour, including Superbad, The Break Up, Knocked Up, Don’t Mess With The Zohan, Step Brothers, Hot Rod, Old School – I could go on. Marshall may somehow be an advanced scientist but is more importantly a middle-aged man uncouth, stupid – although somehow intelligent enough to create a revolutionary piece of scientific equipment – profane, and socially backwards. Anna Friel plays Holly Cantrell, in a winsome turn at Worshipping Girl Scientist. Danny McBride plays Will, a redneck, substance-abusing, pyrotechnic sidekick (more about him in a minute). Once in the Land of the Lost they are joined by Cha-Ka, a primate-like being played by Jorma Taccone, and the film follows the foursome through various comedic shennanigans based on a mere skeletal frame of a plot.

Ferrell’s potrayal is just as we’d expect (as listed above) – yet still, in my opinion, the performance managed to be very funny. Holly, on the other hand, is something different: her character is composed almost entirely of equal quantities of plucky cheerleader speeches, hero-worship in the case of Marshall (we are unsure as to how he deserves this), and a remarkable patience and fortitude whilst being sexually harassed, fondled, and diminished by all three male characters (including the humanoid Cha-Ka). Supposedly Holly is an empowered, intelligent woman; but she is none of these qualities so much that she’d inconvenience the bad behaviors of the males of the film. For instance, at the outset of the adventure Will comments to her, in so many words, she will find an upcoming adventure so thrilling her vagina will get moist. She threatens him with drowning should he speak to her this way again. But as the film proceeds we see this is an empty threat: similar comments, and an almost incessant amount of unwelcomed breast-fondling, are repeated regularly – and Holly takes no action to stop these. Her pluckiness and intelligence, therefore, serve only as a foil for her male co-stars, in such a way as to always help and never hamper.

She is also, of course, young and heteronormatively mainstream beautiful (she is also, of course, white), typical fare for these kinds of films. We are spared no details in an exploration of Ferrell and McBride’s very human physiques – a pool scene, half nudity, fat rolls, and many closeups on their faces showing every pore, greasy hair follicle, and wrinkle. Anna by comparison is framed through a dewey lense of flawlessness, presented in an immaculate tank top, hotpants, little girl braids, and impeccable makeup (I am skipping over the odd fact that in the orginial television series Holly and Will were Rick’s children; Anna as Ferrell’s romantic and sexual interest resembles something between Science Barbie and a teenage daughter). And most regrettable of all, although we are afforded long addresses by Rick and Will discussing their eating habits, the adventure of collecting hadrosaur urine (don’t ask), their life’s ambitions, their camp songs, their twisted view of the world and their harebrained, silly shemes – all we know about Anna is she went to Cambridge at some point and then attached herself to Rick’s scientific methods. For all intensive purproses Anna is a one-dimensional beauty, not anything approaching a three-dimensional person.

Because, for me, the most disturbing part of the Man-Boy movies is not so much the presence of young, heteronormatively beautiful females, but the lack of character and comedic fairness afforded to them. Part of the “Average Guy / Hot Girl” phenomenan (although, notably, the men featured in these films are “average” in looks and physicality, while their behavior often contains greater than average components of near-sociopathic behavior, personal ineptitude, aggressiveness, and sometimes sadism) – is that the bumbling hero will end up with a woman in some grey area of supermodel / mom – she being afforded only the most superficial character traits of these socially-prescribed categories. Another article refers to this as “the current generation of romantic comedies that pair aged boy doofuses with women who are far more mature and responsible.” Yes, the morality and intelligence of the females in these films is notably more developed than the male, but it’s also boring. They are beautiful, humorless (although they allow poor behaviors to go mostly unchecked so therefore show some tolerance), devoted to their deeply-troubled males, and serve very little besides eye candy and a sort of “prize” for our heroes. It’s frustrating so few moviegoers speak out about this.

Because in film it seems we find old, ugly, fat, comedic or flawed females as either A. the butt of the joke, or B. completely unable to carry our interest in a typical lead role. Taking the analysis, only briefly, up to better caliber of film, consider last year’s The Wrestler. Mickey Rourke was touted as not only giving a good performance but achieving heights of physical inhabitance in his turn as the scarred, battered, beaten-up hard-living professional athlete at the end of his career. The filmmakers’ choice for his counterpart? Marissa Tomei as the “aging stripper”. Really? Is that what an old, blousy stripper typically looks like? Taken as one film, you cannot really find fault; but why is this what we see, over and over, an uninteresting but repetitive variation of Beauty and the Beast? Because we would not find an ugly, “old”, deeply flawed (or all three!) woman relatable or worthy of much notice or interest.

It’s worth a brief mention: Danny McBride’s rendition of Will is also problematic. Within seconds of our introduction to this man he has spewed forth a few varieties of verbal vomit: elaborating on his future plan to build a massive casino complete with huge parking lot, taking a wife to mate with and then, if she’s not pleasing, imprisoning her in the far wing of the gold-leaf massive building which features a prominent racist charicature of a Native American (I am not making this up!). The character of Will bothers me almost more than Anna, because he provides us the opportunity to laugh at “rednecks” and their backwardness, but also get our giggles on the racist, sexist, and heterosexist behaviors (identical to those displayed for decades past) he mawkishly provides. Ultimately during the film Will becomes a far more relatable, if still crude, character. And this, to me, is a good thing. These films are in the final analysis buddy movies; and this is one reason I enjoy and continue to watch them.

Because yes: I laugh with crude, profane humor, I love depictions of playful – and yes, at times asinine – friendships, and I fiercely enjoy random, inane comedy. The funny moments in Land of the Lost – and there were many – were those where the camera lingered on Ferrell or Will as they were allowed to perform as unbalanced and very human characters with their own stories, their own weirdnesses. Why was this not afforded to the sole female in the film?

Too much analysis? I don’t think so. We have seen these same patterns, this same diminishment to the female, repeated in not only today’s Judd Apatow vehicles but movies spanning back through my cinematic memory. Pop culture is both a window into how we view our world and a mirror for which we can gaze, reflect, and self-correct. When we see a slew of same-minded pheomena, it can be informative to investigate why these memes exist, what they say about our culture, why they’re appreciated, and when and why they should carry some misapprehension.

I have decided it will only be when we have more female writers, directors, and producers, and more intelligent, discerning, and fair-minded men involved in the process that I can enjoy these comedies not just in my gut but in my mind and heart. In the meantime, I will enjoy the slapstick moments, the silly references to sexual appetite, the unnecessary and aggressive “fuck you’s!”, the odd impersonations and absurd and unbelievable scenarios Ferrell and his ilk deliver, as best I can.

Further reading: “Ah, Hollywood, where men will be boys”

***

Photo credit: “happy sailing” from x_ray_ on Flickr; used under Creative Commons license Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0).

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