Not-so-live blogging the 12th Annual AWID forum

This month, representing both my day job and WHAN, I'm off to the AWID (Association for Women’s Rights in Development) International Forum on Women’s Rights and Development in Istanbul, Turkey to present as part of a panel with other Caribbean women. This year's theme is Transforming Economic Power to Advance Women's Rights and Justice, and my segment will look at enhancing opportunities for women's economic participation, particularly in emerging and own industries. Happily, the conference also brings together some of my homies from another network of which I'm a member, The International Working Group on Gender, Macroeconomics and International Economics, which will be presenting special, toolbox sessions on gender and economics. Reunions everywhere! A reuniopalooza. I just made that up.

So a few of us are blogging the 4-day meeting. I'm sure some of the others will be live-blogging. I can make no such commitment. But I will be covering the sessions I attend, and sharing some of the emerging research and ideas, as well as linking to the other blogs. I'm excited! Are you? Yes. Yes you are.

Your name! Just what I always wanted!

This dude here? McLean? He wants to give me his name. Apparently that is the prize for me picking him up when he was down and being able to do a hell of a Catherine Zeta Jones in Entrapment impression and whatnot. Never mind that I already have a name that I may want to keep. Ah branding. The ultimate expression of love and affection.

I swear if I hear "independent ladies" one more time...

I'm out pretty often: parties, concerts, limes, general lolly-gagging in the wee hours. I've only recently embraced the notion that I do work hard (I grew up thinking that hard work had to involve hot sun, perspiration and calloused hands; anything else - even 20-hour days at a computer or in meetings with seats and coffee breaks - was a luxury and a fiasco), and so I should be able to engage in the types of entertainment that I enjoy.

When one is out as often as I am, one tends to notice certain trends in the ways people seek to entertain the masses. And though not as ire-inducing as some other trends, there is one in particular that makes me itch. Shall I present it as a question? I think I shall. Because I wouldn't mind having an answer, if any of you are amenable.

I ask you: what is up with this "independent ladies" bullshit? Were I a betting individual, I would very readily bet all my jewels and livestock that at any given party or stage show, some DJ or MC - in most cases a man - will take the mic and yell something along the lines of "Ladies if you know you independent, you got on your own clothes, you got on your own hair, your own underwear, you got your own house key, bullshit bullshit bullshit, put your hands in the air." Or worse: "Ladies if you know you independent: SCREEEEAM!"

I beg. Your pardon.

First, that last exhortation is a contradiction in terms. The fact that I (and by "I" I mean "Mar". The rest of you may scream in response if you like, although I have never understood it) may self-identify as an independent "lady" (more on that later) means that I do not scream at the say-so of some random stranger on a mic. That's not to say I will never scream in public. I scream all the time. I screamed just Saturday night when Lil Rick performed some of his old dub hits and made a delightful ass of himself on stage - as only he can do - in another one of his lessons on how not to take oneself too seriously as a performer. But I screamed or bellowed or made whatever noise I pleased in the spirit of general noise-making to show appreciation. There is something about a man telling a roomful of women to scream that makes me feel like he's trying to live out some kind of harem fantasy. Worse is when he tells the women to scream and the men to say "Blat blat blat!" So men's voices are to express aggression and gun violence and women's voices are to express either sexual climax or distress. That is lovely.

But even setting aside the general screaming commands, why the preoccupation with "independent ladies"? And what is an independent lady anyway? And who the hell is this subset of women up in the club wearing other people's underwear?

I have some theories. When I was growing up, I dare say that consumerism wasn't the beast that it is today. Yes we all wanted L.A Gear and bodysuits and whatnot, but foreign markets were not as accessible; we as non-adults had limited resources, and all that resulted in the trend of sharing clothes. I can't say whether women over the age of 25 did it, although I'm inclined to think so as they had similar market access issues, but among my friends, it was certainly done. In a time before snapping cell phone pics and immediately uploading them to Facebook so everyone could see what you wore to every event, people were less self-conscious about what their outfits said about their paycheque and status. If your friend had a hot new trend piece and wasn't wearing it that week, it was an option. But, with our matey culture, in which men's dominance is perpetuated by pitting women against each other along the lines of attractiveness, domestic skills, sexual adventurousness, clothes-sharing soon became a further point of comparison that men used. The jig was up. Now, and as consumerism began to take hold more, wearing your 'matey's' clothes was to be a source of extreme embarrassment and proof you weren't an adequate female person. After all, if you were worthwhile, if you cooked well and could make sufficient babies and fvcked like a porn star, surely you could keep a man who would buy your clothes and therefore you wouldn't have to beg and borrow.

From there, as women began to participate more in economic life and it came to be seen as perhaps not the worst thing that could happen, there came a shift from "be proud your man can buy you shit" to "be proud you can buy yourself shit" (although the former maintains its legitimacy in certain ways and contexts). This would not necessarily be a bad thing, except for the following:

1) In this scenario, women's independence or lack thereof is still being used to pit women against each other. The old divide and conquer. So those of us in the fête who are in fact not financially independent, who depend on the income of a partner because such is the division of labour ('productive' vs. reproductive), or because we may be out of a job, or for whatever reason, we should feel like shit. Because not only are women supposed to be fvckmasters and top chefs and supernannies, we are also supposed to be Bill Gates. What? You aren't all those? Leave the fête immediately!; and

2) It reinforces men's resentment of having to continue to contribute economically when they, in their perception, no longer enjoy the other markers of privilege. So some men were happy to maintain 'their' women and children when it was a guarantee that they also simultaneously got to command higher wages for similar work done by women; or be promoted more easily; or have greater access to political participation; or free reign to commodify women's bodies. But for some, we women just have to damn well choose. You want to be independent? Fine. You get to pay your own way. That's the price. And all the attention to "independent ladies" is a bit of a passive-aggressive fvck-you.

An extension of that idea is that financially independent women who remain commodities or commodified in men's eyes are a huge turn-on. It is the Holy Grail of the whole ordeal. It is the reason a man will boast of his sexual conquest of a woman and qualify it with "and I didn't spend a cent." So all those independent ladies in the fête who are still willing to scream on command? Oh man. That in itself is an orgasm. Because it means that as financially independent as you are, you still require my penis to be ultimately satisfied. You still take orders and I'm still in control.

Disclaimer time: first, there are men for whom interesting, confident women who have charted and followed their own career paths are very attractive. That is clear, and not under debate. But I don't think that sentiment is behind the whole "independent ladies, scream" shout-out in the fête. Second, yes, the whole "independent ladies" meme is not unique to men. In fact, it was made quite popular by Beyonce et al, and their treatment of it is not necessarily problem-free, but I would say it is less problematic than this particular treatment of it by men. It works infinitely better as a celebration among women than as a judgment by men.

Here is my bottom line: stop singling out women as "independent ladies" based on some bullshit basket of goods that you determine of value to women: weave and clothes and underwear. All the women in that particular show or fête are independent by virtue of the fact that they are adults with rights. And they don't need to scream at your command to make that so.

Who writes these things: the girlie secrets edition

Dear Jane Hoskyn,

Please stop talking.

Because even if you are using 'girl' correctly to mean "a female child between zero and eighteen years of age", and not adult women (for which there is a whole other word who knew?), this list is still a ridiculous mishmash of juvenile, misogynist bullshit. To wit:

1. When we get whistled at in the street, we feel uncomfortable and we’ll always tut and roll our eyes. But we’re awesomely flattered and we’d be gutted if it stopped.

No.

2. We will never grow out of our fascination with pop stars. A guy can be completely ordinary-looking, but we will fancy him if he’s in a band.

No. Not that musicians aren't particularly attractive often for reasons beyond their physical appearance, but so are plenty other people. And yes, since we aren't perpetually 12 with boy band posters next to the Pollock in the living room, we do outgrow our fascination with pop stars. We may move on to fascination with 'serious musicians', but that's something else entirely.

And let me state now that even though I've duplicated it in the interest of continuity, the 'we' here is problematic. Because she's talking about a certain type of woman, from a certain cultural background, with privilege of a certain nature and amount, so as with most of these things, 'we' really means 'my friends and I'. It's fine if that's what you mean, but if that is what you mean, you should make that clear. We've spent too long trying to highlight women's heterogeneity to have to stand for articles like this one confirming that the whole diversity thing is nonsense and we're all really just the same person.

3. We are more likely to fancy a guy if his ex-girlfriends are really pretty.

4. We can be put off a guy by finding out that his ex-girlfriends are a bit ugly.

5. When we look through your Facebook photos, we’re looking to see how pretty or ugly your ex-girlfriends are.

6. We look through your Facebook photos a lot, and we really hope that you haven’t downloaded anything that reveals who looks at them the most.

Really? Does this woman live on a Lisa Frank sticker? Of course, history of partners is important, but for reasons that go slightly deeper than just "oh em gee ur totes prettier than her!!1!1"

7. Here’s how to make us fall for you. One day, come on to us so strong that we’re a bit weirded out by it. Then totally fail to ring us. We’ll wonder what we did wrong, and we won’t be able to stop thinking about you.

This is just disturbing, especially since I'm not sure of the gamut of reactions the author intends to cover with the words 'so strong' and 'a bit weirded out'. These to my mind could include anything from a meet-the-parents too early on and a quizzical look to stalking and seeking a protective order. But the real damage here is suggesting that women secretly love abusive, manipulative behaviour.

8. The above strategy isn’t foolproof. We may just lose interest. It depends on how much we liked you in the first place.

9. We often don’t know how much we liked you in the first place. We may have to wait until you don’t phone us. If we’re disappointed, it proves that we fancy you. If we’re not, it proves that we don’t. It’s like when you toss a coin to help you make a decision.

Decisions. They hurt our brainz.

10. Stop trying to understand how our minds work. Even we don’t understand how our minds work.

In fact, we have no minds. No thoughts, no intellect. Our heads are just filled with pink cotton wool and Justin Bieber songs.

And that's in the first 10 alone, consecutively. No breaks.

Also

42. During breakouts we get up at 6am and cover our spots with concealer while you’re sleeping.

Who does this? No, really. Who?

But the gem is saved for the end, I think (emphasis mine):

53. We’re all little girls inside. You make us cry far more easily than you realise.

And here, gentlefolk, is the finale. The overt statement at the end of an entire article spent infantilizing and homogenizing all women. Of course we cry, but it's not because we're little girls. Hurt feelings, grief or whatever might cause tears are completely valid among adults. When we're hurt and cry, it's because we're hurt, not because we're children. Still, thanks for confirming the notion that women are just big crybabies who will throw a fit when you take our lollipops away. Well done, you.


[Via Liss and Emily at Shakesville]

The version of your body currently running is not bedroom compatible

My gym is running some kind of 6-week body makeover butt blast boot camp bangarang. That's not what it's really called but you get the idea. It's especially for women. It says so on the flier. Also on the flier, central to the message and in large red type, are words to the effect of:

GET A BEDROOM BODY!

Now, the gym runs these kinds of things all the time, in which they propose to bulk you up or whittle you down or generally bring you up to code in a specified time period. This is the first one I've seen geared specifically to women. And it's also the first one I've seen that seeks to gently encourage participation by reminding people women that they will have to get naked for someone's enjoyment, and for the sake of that other party, they'd better get their asses in gear. Or no man one will want to sleep with them. And then what would their lives become? Why else would you want to get in shape anyway, womanperson? For sport? For functional strength? For your own damn self? Stop speaking nonsenses!

Presumably, men don't need bedroom bodies*. Their fitness activities are in pursuit of more lofty ends. Hunting! Fighting! Watching cricket with their shirts off! And since women have to sleep with them anyway (everyone in this hetero-normative dreamscape is 'straight', ok? Just play along), there is no minimum aesthetic requirement involved for men.

Also what we've learnt so far is that a "bedroom body" is of a particular type produced in a gym or other exercise situation. Somebody should tell that to the bodies everywhere that are at this moment getting into some pretty enjoyable situations in their bedrooms, garages and crawlspaces right now, and have no intention of changing their bodies in order to continue doing so. If this describes you, you are hereby advised to cease and desist, until such time as we have certified that you possess the appropriate, bedroom-approved body.

It's true, I suppose, that "a bedroom body" could mean something more all-encompassing: it could simply mean a fit body of any size and shape that allows you to - as a friend of mine likes to put it - spin on your headtop during sex. But then, nobody's asking a man to spin on his headtop. I guess he and his non-bedroom body can just lay there.

And what annoys me most about this stupid poster - when I have to see it every single morning because it is affixed to the changing room door at my eye level - is that it does not reflect what I always thought were the philosophy and behaviours of the staff at this gym. They've always seemed very inclusive about women in sport, women gaining strength just because they feel like it. They've always seemed to have a pretty open "we can all do anything we want" mentality, inclusive of men, women, the elderly, people with disabilities, everyone. But now, because they are letting this stupid poster speak for them, I have to acknowledge that somewhere, someone in this establishment either does not get it, does not think, or does not care. And since I spend some time there, time that I otherwise enjoy, that's a bit of a downer. Still, always one who's eager (w00t!) to embrace the all too familiar "humourless" tag, here I go tomorrow morning. To ask what that mess there on the changing room door is all about.

*I asked if there was a similar poster on the inside of the men's changing room, and was told 'no' by a jolly fellow who is also a member, and who added, "darling, any man that got a body, it ready for the bedroom."

Myriam Merlet

We received news yesterday of the passing of Myriam Merlet in Tuesday's disaster in Haiti. Merlet, a women's rights activist and Head of the Ministry of Women in Haiti, helped to call international attention to the widespread rape of girls and women as a political weapon in the country, where rape was only made a criminal offence in 2005. Merlet's essay The More People Dream appeared in the popular 2001 publication Walking on Fire: Haitian Women's Stories of Survival and Resistance.

We are saddened by the passing of one of our colleagues and friends. I imagine that in the coming weeks, there will be many tributes to those we've lost, and I look forward to contributing to those, to remembering the Myriam I knew, and her work. I want to reaffirm our solidarity in assisting Haiti, and in working towards the peace and security of all its citizens as they work to recover and rebuild not only now, but for years to come. I believe we appreciate that the support needed goes way beyond 'fixing' the fallout from Tuesday's disaster, and I'm hopeful that as a region, we will listen to the needs of the Haitian people, and stay committed .

Has Caribbean feminism failed? Or did it just never exist?

Last week, I sat down with two of my favourite male people, over some Guinness(es?) and some wicked, fried pot fish, to catch up on the happenings. The conversation soon got around to feminism, because these two male people are actually interested, and don't just pretend to be in the hopes that when they ask me "how's work?" I'll just say "You know, it is what it is. Pass the pepper sauce."

So they had some issues, among them my confession that in my work, when I talk about my theories of economics to people who are presumably non-sympathetic - or who at least start out that way - I avoid the term 'feminist'. I do not call my work 'feminist economics' outside my group of colleagues or friends because:

1) It is irrelevant, almost so irrelevant as to be counter-productive. I'm suggesting that in the traditional conceptualization of the economy, there are missing markets, and missing actors. Some of women's work, and some of the consequences of economic policy and activity on women, are rendered invisible, and if we are to obtain a true picture of the economy, maximize its productivity and advance development goals, we need to start thinking about that economy in different ways. This argument hinges on the idea that mainstream economics is lacking, whereas 'my' economics is more complete. To then present my views as 'feminist', to qualify them in this way, only marginalizes them, which is the opposite of what I'm trying to do.

2) It is inflammatory. 'Feminist' is a bad word. This is a surprise to no one. Many people I encounter are eager to distance themselves from what they see as feminist ideology, and are in fact relieved to have that basis on which to reject your ideas. If advancing that ideology without using the F word is going to improve women's access to economic goods, then I'm prepared to use other words.

3) It is not true. Based on the first point, if I believe that an economic model that values women's work and counts it as an economic input is a truer model, then what I do is just Economics, only properly done. (One could argue that insofar as feminism is a belief in the right of women to have political, social, and economic equality with men, all economics should be feminist economics, which is also true. And so we could argue each of those points, and probably both be right.)

This is an age-old argument, and while I call myself a feminist, language is an important part of the political strategy that gets things done. So using language like 'women's rights' and 'equity', and employing methods like first establishing the existence of a problem and then revealing that the majority of those experiencing this problem are women or men or children is often more expedient.

But they thought that I was wrong to do this, and that if feminism was not at all problematic, as I was suggesting, then I should use my work to make it visible as a movement. Because, they said, the feminism that everyone knows, and that men in the Caribbean are so turned off by, has been imported from the US and UK, with all their bra-burning and armpit-hair growing. They suggested that the women's movement in the Caribbean has failed to adequately represent its cause, to refocus the business of feminism within the Caribbean context, and to disabuse people of the notion of feminism as a foreign, outdated ideology. They believed that rather than treat as separate issues like violence against women and sexual and reproductive rights, we should frame them within the larger context of women's human rights, showing the linkages, and in that way, it would all become clear to the masses and we, the feminists, would win. I explained that we had done this, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. They were not convinced. I suggested that they were considering the issue as already-feminist men, assuming a reasonable, blank-slate audience that does not always exist. Again, they were not convinced.

I had, and have, several responses to this, including the idea that 'feminist', both as a qualifier and a noun, is not strictly tied to 'feminism' as a movement. There's some merit in what they say, as well as some confusion, I think, about what the advancement of women's rights in the Caribbean has looked like, and what it looks like these days. But I wanted to ask you first, readers and lurkers and bears, what you think, before I address these ideas in a subsequent post.

Are Caribbean people really thirsting for feminist knowledge, and have we simply been doing it wrong all along?

Hear ye, all women and others of diminished capacity

So I'm reading today's Nation newspaper and I come across an article on the Comment page. It's accompanied by a photo of one of our roundabouts, and called The correct Way to use a multi-lane road. And so I think "Finally. Someone with some authority is going to wake drivers up to some of the mistakes they've been making on our fairly new multi-lane motorways, and perhaps fewer people will die on the streets." And I suppose that's how it was intended, but it took a couple a very, very wrong turns. (See what I did there?)

The article is quite terse, and even sounds a little angry. And honestly, doesn't make much sense. The writer suggests that on a dual roadway, the right lane is always and only for overtaking the traffic on the left, and that once right lane drivers have overtaken, they should exit onto the left lane. Now I understand the concept. It reduces to this: the right lane is a fast lane. (Apparently I'm wrong, as you'll see.) If you intend in the short term to be going faster than the other drivers, the right lane is yours. When/if your pace normalizes or matches that of the average of other drivers, then you should switch to the left. At the end of the article, we're told, again tersely: there is no such thing as a slow lane and fast lane, which, following the earlier explanation, isn't strictly true. By definition, if the right lane is for overtaking, it is a fast lane, or at least a faster lane than the left.

But I suppose the ill-explained point is that you shouldn't take the right lane if you intend to keep pace with the average speed of traffic, or if you simply intend to 'drive fast'. The point is to overtake. Although, if none of the other drivers in the right lane understands this, you pretty much end up trying to overtake but with nowhere to go, because the driver in front of you is probably thinking she can hang out in the right lane since no one's going much faster than anyone else, as is the driver in front of her, and the driver in front of him. (And this will also tend to happen since, in a country the size of Barbados, there are approximately 5 centimeters on the motorway between roundabouts. So somebody who is not overtaking will end up in the right lane. It has to happen.) And so, apparently, the hideous cycle unfolds, with the undesirable effect of blocking the overtaking lane and therefore ending humanity as we know it.

And then we're told:

If you are being overtaken by traffic on the left you are creating an
obstruction...and...encouraging the dangerous practice of overtaking on the
left and zig-zagging through traffic.

So understand this: if you ever find yourself being overtaken by some impatient buffoon who is breaking traffic rules and the speed limit by overtaking on the left, you are to blame. It means that you must be too slow and stupid to know not to block impatient buffoons. And it is always your fault, because no one who finds themselves zig-zagging through traffic is ever wrong.

And then the writer goes on:

If you are in the right lane and the lights of the car behind you are flashing
it means the driver wants to overtake or you are blocking the overtaking lane.

I love how they encourage impatience and general road rage, and place the responsibility for reckless drivers squarely on the shoulders of the rest of us who are simply trying not to die. Here's the thing: maybe if someone is flashing her lights at you, you're a bit slow for the right lane and should try and adjust, either by accelerating or merging to the left if you can (for crap's sake please don't freak out and merge into a Bico truck because that will not end well.) Or maybe the light flasher is just an entitled piece of poop who wants to intimidate every other driver off the road so she can make it to the roundabout in 5 seconds instead of the usual 7. This article, far from keeping people safe, is encouraging the worst, most reckless drivers out there to continue being reckless, and worse, validating their crude, dangerous behaviour.

So I'm thinking surely this cannot have been written by the Police Force or the Ministry of Transport and Works because the tone is so personal and angry, and because there's only a passing reference to one of the real accident causers: improper usage and poor understanding of the newly-signed roundabouts. There's also no mention of other problem-causing novelties like the new give-ways and off-ramp acceleration lanes. And then I look at the bottom and realize that it was written by C.O Williams Construction Ltd. So the whole point of the article isn't as much to save lives as it is to sulk and yell because they built this great toy and we're using it wrong. So at this point I'm starting to expect a lot less of this writer, which is a good thing, considering what comes next:

This notice particularly refers to women, taxi and truck drivers as they are usually the main offenders when it comes to blocking the overtaking lane.

Seriously? Who wrote this thing?

Even if you are of the "damn women drivers" school of disgruntlement, which I'm not going to tackle because I know I'm not going to change your mind or expand your consciousness or any of that good stuff, what is the point of flagging those people you envision as the main offenders at the end of article? It's not as if you begin: "Hey! Women, taxi drivers and truck drivers: listen here!" Clearly, by the time you've already explained all your rules, the only point of pointing out that women are the chief offenders is to say "I know you women are reading this thinking it's not you. But it's you. You are the reason we're writing this thing. So just stop it right now." And to those women out there reading this entry and snickering smugly to yourself thinking "But you know..he's right. Those other women can't drive," don't even bother, because he means you too.

If you're going to write about how to use the roads, just write about how to use the roads. Yes it's insulting to single out women (as opposed to taxi and truck drivers who are a small percentage of male drivers. You're basically saying "women can't drive. Men can drive in general, except for these special categories of male drivers), although given the overall angry, entitled attitude of the piece it makes sense and was probably written by he of the light-flashing and zig-zagging. But more than insulting, it's unprofessional and unnecessary. Does this writer envision that a woman reading this will be persuaded by the "you may think it's not you but it really is. You're a woman, see" argument?

The article is just another light-flashing, left-lane-overtaking attempt at intimidation of certain drivers, namely women. And coming from a private citizen it would be unsurprising, but from a corporate entity, it's disappointing, especially since it's presented with authority.

But you know, take this with a grain of salt because after all, I'm only a woman.

Researching attitudes about mothering and feminism

Researchers Mindy Erchull and Miriam Liss at the University of Mary Washington in Virginia are engaged in a study examining attitudes about mothering and feminism. They've developed a survey to collect data from women over the age of 18, including "feminists, non-feminists, mothers, and non-mothers", and are asking our help in gathering information.

You can find the survey here:
http://ff5umw.com/motherconsent.html

It takes about 15 minutes, and you can repost the link anywhere you like. Wear it on a t-shirt, leave it in a fogged-up mirror in an airport bathroom, you know, spread the word however you wish. Given the number of surveys I've asked poor, unsuspecting strangers to complete, I always like to help people out. (Who knows - maybe Miriam and Mindy will shed some light on the whole feminist, baby-hating movement that apparently exists.)

Why can't you be more like Cinderella?

The Nation newspaper has (in this past Sunday's edition) solicited the wisdom, such as it is, of writer Chris Brodber in a feature vomitously called "Being right for Mr. Right", aimed at setting us lady folk on the right path of behaviour for bagging us a prince before we all shrivel up and die, bringing to nought our sole purpose here on this planet. I'm sorry I don't have a link to share, because really, the entire thing is worth a read. Chris seems to be of the "behave like a lady" school of thought, which, given the inclusions of the words 'behave' and 'lady', I tend to find problematic. I think 'lady' is the term men use for women who behave to their satisfaction, and it's rarely a part of my lexicon. But by no means should you take my word for it. I've quoted some of Chris's words for you below. No cut and paste here. Purely by the sweat of my brow do I bring you these little kernels of truth, nuggets of wisdom, and other metaphors featuring objects that, ironically, are associated with poo:

Many women will settle for just being a 'woman'. Here's news for you! Men need much more than just a woman. We need refined, we need elegant, gentle, confident, captivating, intelligent.

So if you thought you were going to get by on merely being a woman, Chris has news for you (!!!). You need to be more than just a lowly woman. To wit, the above qualities. Because we all know that mere women are by default unrefined, boorish, insecure and stupid. I'd like to think that Chris is just having some language and semantics problems here, but reading further leads me to think otherwise. And notice the fixation with elegance and refinement, usually read: 'women who skulk around in satin negligee, bat their eyelashes till their eyes bleed and never have much to say about anything'. I exaggerate of course, but I'm wary of men who place too much importance on being 'elegant'. No one ever asks men to be elegant. We should all treat each other and ourselves with respect, but the notion that women in particular should be all soft and conciliatory is one that has for years impeded our equal access to jobs, athletic competition, economic security and basic human rights. 'Elegant' is great, but often what it really means is 'well-behaved and nice to look at.'

And P.S. seductive is overrated. 'Ms. Right Now' usually is seeking to appear 'voluptuous', and often she's promiscuous. Remember: hot and sexy is never Cinderella.

And herein lies Chris's problem: the blonde, blue-eyed, docile, enslaved but obliging Cinderella is his model for female behaviour. Cinderella, who scurried back home and waited for some man to come and put a shoe on her foot so he could claim her as his own. God forbid she had her period that day and was retaining some water. Because that fairy tale would have had a whole different ending. Let me hit you with some knowledge, Chris, of the kind best expressed in non-Standard English: ain't nobody round here trying to be no Cinderella, ok? Cinderella had a fairy godmother and a whole side-street dumpster worth of miscellaneous vermin to fix her up, and even then, she had to sit on her Size 0 behind and wait for a man wielding a shoe. We're self-rescuing princesses around here, and we're hot and sexy. (Chris seems to think 'hot' and 'sexy' synonymous with 'whore of Babylon'.) And if meeting Mr. Right requires that we get dressed by birds to transform our perfectly acceptable selves into something that only appears more 'regal', trip over gourds and submit to random, unannounced shoe fittings, then Mr. Right can get the hell on because we've got shit doing. How about you leave your shoe and when I have some time I'll send someone to check your foot out?

And I left the best part for last. Voluptuous = promiscuous. If you have some curves, you're sleeping around. This is clearly science.

Even by the broader definition of the term, it's a judgment: a woman who seems to enjoy the sensual (I'm not so sure how a woman seems that way except by a very narrow-minded definition) is probably sleeping around. This is a hop, skip and a jump away from the 'she wanted it' rape defence. Women are allowed to be sexual beings, and to 'appear' to enjoy sex, and are even allowed to sleep with more than one man in a lifetime. True story.

A good man wants a gem. You know the saying.. "Behind every successful man is a good woman." A man needs a woman that makes him feel alive, relevant and like he has won the greatest prize. She must be capable, knowing how to suggest, 'Honey, probably we could do it this way'.

I swear to you I am not making this up. So here we are again with this 'woman behind a man' dynamic. I know the word 'behind' here means '(at) the source of', but I don't think people get that. How I really think it should read is 'Next to many successful people are partners who have worked equally hard right alongside them', which, when you consider it, isn't really earth-shattering news. The notion that the indicator of a couple's or a family's success is the success of the man is one that gives me hives. And Chris's perfect woman, like Cinderella, is some prize to be won, like a pig in a raffle. She's there to make him feel lucky.

And the writer defines 'capable', that is the capability of that woman, in terms of her man: how good is she at making suggestions to him? Someone should have told me that my man-convincing skills were the ultimate test of capability. I would have worked on that every day and twice on Sundays.

But that was just the preamble. I haven't even gotten to the actual instructions. (Yes, instructions.) Here are a few:

Don't bleed his pocket
Don't request the yacht and the anchor too. If you go out, you can offer to foot the bill sometimes. We men have antennae up for these things. A woman who is using a man may herself end up being used.

Since by nature women are gold-digging she-beasts, right out of the gates, we have to be cautioned against giving into our baser nature of 'bleeding' a man dry. Don't foot the bill because you're actually concerned with equity and independence. Do so because if you don't, his gold-digger radar will go crazy and he'll run off, leaving you alone and manless. I'm going to leave the 'end up being used' thing alone because I'm assuming that's not the old 'fair exchange, money for sex' argument. That is way too cheap even for this.

Avoid early marriage discussions.
Don't bring up marriage after the first few dates. [...] Let us guys bring up the issue. [...](Keep in mind it's not a good sign if it hasn't been mentioned after a year of dating.)

I keep resisting the urge to type LAWL all through this entry. Yes, it is a bad idea for anyone, man or woman, to come on too strong at the start of a relationship: it may smell of desperation, depending on who the two people involved are. Some people are both perfectly happy with marrying within weeks of meeting, although it's nothing I would advocate. But desperation is not, as Chris would have us believe, a uniquely female characteristic. In fact, I'd wager that of all the dangerous, glorified stalking that is depicted as comedy in films, and all the actual stalking that takes place in real life, most of the stalkers are men, and the victims women. And no, women do not have to hand over control of a significant life decision by waiting for men to bring up marriage. (What's with all the waiting, again? Oh right. Cinderella. Slipper. Got it.) And again, no, if your partner hasn't brought up marriage after a year it doesn't mean he's going to slip out in the night and never return. Some women like the surprise proposal, and that's fine. But your goals as a woman are important too. I see so many women caught in that purgatory between refusing to bring up marriage lest the man startle and scurry off, and really wanting to get on with the business of career timing and family and reproduction and these small matters. Having a vagina does not condemn you to having important decisions made for you. 'Equal partner' means something, it's not just PC gibberish.

Don't disrespect him.
Strong doesn't mean rude and crude. Strong actually is calm and collected. If you're tearing him down with outbursts and criticisms, you really aren't helping, most of all not yourself.

Or, "resist the natural urge to be a screaming, nagging banshee. Men's egos are delicate." Listen, ordinarily I would agree that no one should be disrespecting anyone in a relationship. Constant criticism is oppressive and exhausting, and the language and tone we use to communicate dissatisfaction in a relationship are key. However, I'm wary of the word 'disrespect' when used in terms of male/female relationships. It usually connotes the idea that the man is in a position that is by default to be respected, and that the woman is in a (lesser) position that is by default to be respectful. I hear it applied to all kinds of perceived slights as the reason for unacceptable behaviour, e.g. "she was talking to another man right in front of me, disrespecting me", or "she disrespecting me asking me to wear a condom, as if I got something". The masculinity we have created in the Caribbean is one where a man is, at all costs, to be shielded from any harsh word or injury to his maleness. When a man expresses dissatisfaction frankly, it is directness. When a woman does the same, she is being harsh, critical, disrespectful, emasculating. Stop the madness. It's possible that the woman you're involved with is in fact being unkind and needs to take a step back and reframe her position. And it's also possible that your vision is blocked by the large ego staring back at you, and you need to get over yourself, embrace some humility, and meet in the middle.

Brodber also mentions persistent phone calls, crowding and appearing untrustworthy as kisses of death in 'being right for Mr. Right', and he's not necessarily wrong in these, but he is wrong in presenting them as behaviour peculiar to women. The article is insulting, condescending, and frankly, tired. I find it difficult to believe that the Nation could come up with nothing more edgy or pioneering than 'how to get a man'. Haven't we been rewriting this same article for the last twenty years? And yes, there's a lot that's assumed here: the focus is on male/female heterosexual relationships whose goal is marriage, but I suspect the writer might be a reverend with traditionally Christian views, and even if he weren't, I wouldn't hold my breath expecting a major newspaper in Barbados to include anything other than cis-gendered, heteronormative perspectives. At least not without waving a big flag that says "Look at us! We're talking about the gayness!" But I do expect us to at least begin the long trek away from these narrow, unexplored representations of men, women and relationships, ones that reinforce the same harmful norms and roles we're meant to be discouraging.

Of pears and potatoes

Last week, reader GenderBender slapped me with a fish (figuratively, I mean) and demanded that I write about Caster Semenya. Even though I did end up writing a few words, at the time that she asked, I hadn't planned to cover the issue(s), because so many people already had. So I invited her to channel all her outrage here as our second in a distinguished line of guest bloggers. With a flourish and small marching band, I give you GenderBender:



When the Mongoose asked me to guest blog in this space, my first reaction was “Who me?” I’m neither a recognized blogger nor do I consider myself as having anything noteworthy to say. But that instinctual modesty was immediately replaced by the fiery, indignant “And why not me?” I’m female and enraged on behalf of another female whom I’ve never even met.The case of Caster Semenya, the South African runner who obliterated her competition to win gold in the 800metres at the World Athletic Championships in Berlin, has worried me, haunted my thoughts and upset my equilibrium. The socio-political levels upon which the issue has been pathetically mishandled by the International Amateur Athletics Association pale in comparison to the emotional and psychological impact it must have and will continue to have on the 18-year old Caster for many years to come

For those of you who have not followed the World Championships, allow me to bring you up to speed. Caster Semenya grew up in relative obscurity in the tiny, bush-ringed village of Masehlong. A sporty young woman who ran, played soccer and was a member of the wrestling team at the Nthema Secondary School, Semenya is now a first-year sports science student at Pretoria University. Nothing in her life training on dirt tracks and sharing meals with her four sisters and one brother could have prepared her for the catapulting into the international media spotlight after her gender was questioned. Yes, you read right. On July 31st at the African Junior Championships, Caster shaved a phenomenal four seconds off her 800 metre time (1:56:72 from her previous personal best of 2:00:58). That, coupled with her muscular build and alleged facial hair (I’ve seen close up pictures, she’s got no more of a moustache than the rest of us who run to the salon to have ours waxed every fortnight) led the IAAF to start a series of complicated, invasive and above all embarrassing ‘gender verification tests’. In short: she’s not a 34 DD, she’s got the arms and abs of a hard-working athlete (how strange!) and she’s suddenly running faster than her peers so naturally, she must be a dude! And while the egg continues to drip off the IAAF’s face there’s more: this decision was made public virtually on the eve of Caster’s final race in Berlin.

By its own admission, the IAAF started the testing process before Berlin but because of their complex nature (legal, physical, psychological, bio-medical), it simply ‘ran out of time’ to get conclusive results before she was due to run in the final. My issue with that is two fold: if an athlete’s winning time is drastically improved over a short and allegedly infeasible period of time, would the obvious first test not be performance enhancing drugs? And if that is the case, what does it have to do with her gender? The IAAF is using pears to justify the testing of potatoes. And it just plain stinks. Second, (again by its own admission) the Athletics Federation said it began its investigations based also on a murmur of rumour about her gender that became too loud to ignore. Ok, just so we’re clear: you’re an international sporting organization whose rules have become so strict that a second false start in any race leads to automatic disqualification, yet you start an investigation of this magnitude based on locker room gossip?

Needless to say, the roar of protest and righteous indignation from every corner of South Africa has been nothing short of deafening. The country’s Amateur Athletics body, Caster’s high school friends, her siblings and her adoring parents have also been catapulted into the media spotlight by the inept and often condescending international media, trying to get a fresh angle on a story that will surely idle in neutral until the results of the gender test are returned. At which point it will be determined if she (yes we’ve seen copies of her birth certificate but the IAAF hasn’t got the memo) will be stripped of her medal because of an unnatural level of testosterone or if she will join the inglorious band of athletes in history who have "ambiguous genitalia" (like Polish American Olympic champion Stella Walsh) or Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome [AIS] (like Indian middle distance runner Santhi Soundarajan). AIS includes the existence of a 'Y' chromosome in phenotypic females (typically only associated with a male genotype) and results in an inability to respond to androgens. This unresponsiveness leads to a physiologically female-typical body without female internal sex organs. Although the body produces testosterone, it does not react to the hormone.

But enough of the bio-babble. The point is this (and there are many): when the IAAF has finished employing overpriced public relations and marketing specialists to clean up its image after this absurd bungling (which, I might add, would surely never have happened if the athlete in question was, let’s say a Russian female shot putter, weighing in at 250 lbs), Caster Semenya must return to South Africa with a distasteful finger pointed at her and a nasty smudge of bigoted bureaucracy on her glistening gold medal. When will it end?

And don’t get me started on gender roles and how the concept of gender is performed; and how the West and its media monopolies ram what they think appropriate gender representation should be down our throats. Maybe the mongoose will invite me back to talk about that another time.

Being female: the persecution of Caster Semenya

I'm late on this, and even though a reader asked that I cover it, I wasn't going to because so many people already have. But it does not sit right with me to laud the IAAF World Championship victory of Ryan Brathwaite while 800m winner Caster Semenya cannot savour hers. Shortly before the South African teenager took the gold with the event's fifth fastest time ever, IAAF officials decided that she didn't look 'female enough' to satisfy their conceptualization of the term, and asked her to undergo gender tests to confirm that she is a woman.

As Liss over at Shakesville indicates in her open thread, there is so much misogyny, transphobia, bigotry and all-round hatefulness circulating in the fact and the coverage of the matter, that it is difficult to come to terms with all that this issue brings to light about the way that we treat and consider women athletes, black women and black women athletes. (The latter is the subject of a guest post by Transgriot's Monica over at Womanist Musings.)

Caster Semenya, biologically female from birth, is a woman who dared to do better than people think women should do, and happens to look different from the way people have deemed it proper for women to look. But what if she weren't? One of the most odious ideas surfacing in this discussion is that transgender identity in itself constitutes a fraud being perpetrated on the world, that transgendered people who opt for hormone or surgical procedures are, by their mere existence, cheating us in some way. And the fact that the exhaustive, invasive gender test includes evaluation by a psychologist makes one question whether this is purely a matter of physical fitness for her level and category of competition, as the IAAF affirms, or plain, bigoted, racist intolerance.

The -isms abound, and while Semenya's family has already produced a birth certificate proving she is female, that is really the least of everything happening here. The world of elite sports often likes to try and hold itself above the norms of regular society and plain human decency, citing scientific and physiological reasons as if we're all so stupid that high-falutin gobbledegook is going to distract us from demanding justice. So while we offer congratulations to Caster Semenya on her win, we also need to offer solidarity by fighting this type of official, organized persecution wherever we find it.

Virginity scholarships

Salon's Broadsheet today discusses this news of university scholarships being offered to schoolgirls in Biriwa, Sierra Leone who can prove they are virgins. The scheme is aimed at reducing high rates of teenage pregnancy, and is being implemented along with a measure that bans "any schoolboy found guilty of impregnating another student from all educational institutions." Eligibility for the scholarships requires a virginity test administered by a community nurse.

Apart from the fact that a virginity test that examines the presence of an intact hymen is not reliable (a hymen may rupture at any point through regular physical activity and some women are born without them. And I hate that I even have to point all this out in the context of this article), subjecting a young woman to this type of test is grossly invasive and potentially shaming, whatever the result. But further prizing women's virginity and using it as a basis for a reward of education is very problematic. It creates an artificial relationship between the purity of women and their potential for academic attainment. Because even though in this setting, teenage pregnancy may interrupt young people's academic careers, with adequate access to birth control and reproductive health education, sex in itself need not. Even though one may argue that applicants subject themselves to the conditions of the scholarship, we all know the extent to which restrictions in opportunity also mean restrictions in choice, especially in a country with already limited access to education for girls.

And this type of measure also makes no distinction between young people engaging in sexual activity with each other and rape. Victims of rape are of necessity not eligible, so that these schemes not only stigmatize women's sexuality and pregnancy and prize virginity, but punish victims of sexual violence and reinforce the notion that the victim is to blame.

Boys are also being punished for their sexual behaviour, and incredibly, being permanently denied access to education. So while we may want to encourage young people who become pregnant and decide to care for their child to pursue education in order to better provide for themselves and their families, this measure advocates the opposite. It caps the educational attainment and future earning opportunities of boys as a punishment for the 'crime' of impregnating a young woman. I understand the desire to balance the responsibility of child care so that women are not disproportionately affected, but this is not the way to do it, and is essentially counter-productive, since it has the effect of limiting any potential financial transfers of father to mother for the support of the child, whether these transfers be voluntary or facilitated by the State. And if the motivation is to subject teenage fathers to the same 'punishment' as teenage mothers of being kept out of the school system, perhaps the answer is not to punish anyone at all, but to work towards a system that does not convert pregnancy into a lifetime sentence to poverty.

Star Trek reviews and the lying liars who lie

The trailers for the recently-released Star Trek film barely registered with me. There were flashes of beautiful, young people, several explosions, bits of camp dialogue, and I thought: "Star Trek this is not. All this is likely to be is a typical, silly, summer blockbuster hiding behind the Star Trek name to make some cash." Not even the casting of Zoe Saldana as Uhura was enticing me. But then out came the reviews hailing it as true to the Star Trek culture. Trekkies will love it, they sang, amidst a chorus of general praise and adoration. Of course I couldn't read the reviews in depth, for fear of spoilers, but I had all I needed to give the film a shot.

And how wrong had I been in my original appraisal? Why, not wrong at all.

I am of the The Next Generation generation, and watched the original Shatner/Nimoy series to get some context. Any true Star Trek lover must, of course, understand its origins, but Picard and crew were my Star Trek. Watching the older episodes from the original series, you can see how Gene Roddenberry's creation and conceptualization of a universal peace-keeping and humanitarian task force operating in a future universe - with all the moral complications and scientific advances that would allow - was genius and pioneering in 1966 when it came about. But to a TNG Trekkie (and I use that term loosely. There were no conventions in my part of the globe. I was simply a die-hard fan), Shatner's Kirk was a little melodramatic to Patrick Stewart's Picard, and twenty years of developments in cinematic technology and makeup made TNG a cooler proposition to a 10-yr old at the time. One also got the sense that by this time, the writers and creators were more at home with the world they had created: TNG had a greater sense of fluidity that made you think this world might exist even as you watched. Still, whichever your Star Trek poison, the show had a definite culture of intrigue and excitement, yes, but within the principled, disciplined world of Starfleet, which, frankly, made it all the more intriguing.

In Star Trek the movie, all that goes out the window. And this might make sense to some. After all, the film is meant to chronicle the early days of Kirk and his crew, and there's nothing to say that the glory days of the USS Enterprise were not borne of a power struggle between its brightest minds. But what a farce of a power struggle this, and indeed the entire film, turn out to be. There are so many disappointing elements, I can only touch on a few, after mentioning some of the things the film did right. (This part shouldn't take long.)

First, it's a great story. To convey how great a story without important spoilers is difficult, but when you combine generations of genius Humans and Vulcans, self-sacrifice in the face of apocalyptic destruction, time travel and heroic missions aplenty, how could it not be? And the casting isn't atrocious either. Zachary Quinto makes a credible young Spock, even if his intensity belies the painfully average dialogue; and Bruce Greenwood is the Captain (Pike)! I love me some Bruce Greenwood. The man makes made-for-TV movies worth living for. Simon Pegg is a refreshing Engineer Scott (thank God for someone in this film who understands comic timing), and Zoe Saldana could have made a fantastic Nyota Uhura if someone had remembered to write the actual character into the screenplay, instead of just the name.

Second, the bad-guy concept is almost flawless. Unfortunately, conceptualizing a kick-ass bad guy and then through poor dialogue, inadequate face time and what seems like misguided direction turning him into an 'also-there' is a pretty significant flaw. Nero, played by Eric Bana, is a rogue Romulan - dark, brooding, bloodthirsty and covered in tattoos - in command of a seriously awesome, terror-inspiring ship, the Narada. He doesn't give a crap about rules of engagement or anything smacking of common decency: not as refined a nemesis as The Borg or even the Cardassians who can be brutal and almost genteel at once, but still, worthy of some development. Alas, there was none. His dialogue is pretty weak. He's all snarl really. And while you expect to be terrified by this unprincipled Romulan seeking revenge, he pretty much just whimpers to his demise while you look on unimpressed. This was supposed to be the 'what they did right' part, I know. But the line blurs.

The film also makes use of a nifty little device: red matter, which allows them to take this seemingly innocuous little thing with incredible destructive power, and create very cool scenes of annihilation. The problem was, they didn't slow the annihilation down. When everything is blowing up everywhere, destructions of entire planets - billions and billions of people, we're talking - need a little time to create effect. You can't just drop it in there among run-of-the-mill torpedo explosions and general heroic somersaults and expect the film to have any pace or build any anticipation. And of course, this film failed to do that.



















Now, onto the things I found bothersome. I'll try to make quick work of these. First, to the most disappointing for me: Zoe Saldana as Uhura. Here's what I was glad to see: she was a top cadet, she was assertive and didn't feel cowed by her relationship with Spock into being shoved aside in the interest of propriety, we were told exactly what she did on the ship instead of her just seeming like a random ensign with a receptionist's headset (the original Uhura was a communications officer before being promoted to Lt. Comm. and then Commander, but somehow, in those early episodes, she seemed like an intergalactic receptionist to me. Her presence was, of course, nonetheless important for other reasons, but those stretched beyond the confines of the story) and she got to use those skills in saving the galaxy and all that. Here's what I wasn't so thrilled about: she was a role, not a character. Uhura I felt had one dimension. She was to be the woman in the film who was not maternal, and was to represent another part of womanness: the fearless, educated, unimpressed by random flattery type of woman. And she did all that. But she did that without having her character well developed. She was really a paper tiger; and I didn't actually mind her stripping down scene and the fact that she wore miniskirts. I felt it was real. Women high-achiever types are also sexual and attractive: that's fine. In fact, that's great. But at the end of it all, she was really just Spock's girlfriend, wasn't she? And that worked well for Spock's character - it made him seem reachable and helped make us care about him. But Uhura as an individual fairly disappeared into yet another woman who, like Kirk's and Spock's mothers, was just rooting for a man to survive. And I get the impression that any individuality we saw was all about Zoe Saldana: about her great screen presence as an actor, and not so much about the dialogue, depth and direction given to the character that had been envisioned as Uhura.

Next, who on earth was Chris Pine in this thing? Certainly not Captain Kirk. I did not like this man. He was too many parts entitled, spoilt little shit and not enough parts eventually heroic Starfleet captain. I did not care at all about his character. He could have perished at any point and I would not have felt lost about where the story might be going. And apparently in Abrams' conceptualization of Starfleet, seniority and experience mean not nearly as much as they do in the Starfleet the rest of us know. People are promoted to First Officer and Captain at the drop of a hat. Kirk himself simply skipped on board to become a cadet as if he were catching a ride to the bus station, and yes his father was a hero and that meant a whole heap, but it contributed to the overall effect of "this is Kirk's world, the rest of us just live in it". And that was not attractive. We get enough of the privileged, sexually adventurous, all-American White boy image in so many other films. Did they really need to make Kirk this as well? Yes, I suppose he was meant to seem troubled. That's why they gave us that wholly gratuitous car chase scene thrown in the middle. But he didn't seem as tied to and affected by his past as, say, Spock was. And they could have made him a devilish character while still making him a bit sympathetic.

My overall impression of the film was this: it was not Star Trek. And it could have been; it would have been better served by being Star Trek. There was none of Roddenberry's nuanced treatment of human intimate and political behaviour (after all, it's all a metaphor for humanity) and the exploration of what our future psychologies might hold. Even among the explosions this was possible, but was absent, and left a shell of a film. And further, even on its own, without the Star Trek legacy to uphold, it was not a good film. It suffered from a main character who did not seem of its world, from dialogue that did not distinguish it from any other pedestrian action flick, and from the glaring under-development of its characters. And it's such a shame too. Because this was an epic story which, told differently, might have been one of the greats.

Are women really jonesing for Angelina?

This post is about sex and attraction. It contains some profanity and reference to genitalia. The references are by no means scandalous (ok maybe by some means), but if you're shy about 4-letter words, consider this your warning.

So yesterday morning, via The F-Word Blog, I came across this post by someone called Bitchy Jones (BJ). And I imagine Lynne at The F-Word linked it because she agreed and found it brilliant, as her title "Bitchy Jones is onto something" suggests. But while this BJ person may have a general point, that is, she may be correct in part, I find the overarching message of what she asserts a steaming pile of doodoo. And this post is to explain why.

So she, BJ, is at a party.

The talk is, as it often is, of popular culture. Celebrities we’d like to fuck. We, are seven or eight of us at a table, urbanites, almost exclusively thirtysomething, artsy professionals – basically, if you handed any of us a latte we would drink it – and then one woman, a good friend, says, yeah, but we’d all fuck Angeline Jolie, right?

And she is annoyed by this because:

It is because the highest compliment you can pay a woman is to proclaim that you find her fuckable.

Always and forever and as simple as that.

If you admire a woman and like her, if you find her witty and attractive, if you like the way she thinks, well obviously, you want to fuck her. Because if you were a straight man, that’s where that would lead. But if you’re someone who isn’t sexually attracted to women, you might think you are feeling that too, you might even feel that you are insulting that woman if you don’t want to sleep with her (dishing out the ultimate insult by calling her unfuckable).

Now I get some of what she's saying. First, the notion that we should all want to have sex with Angelina Jolie because her exquisite beauty surpasses personal taste is, in fact, annoying. And tired. And premised on an imposed European standard of beauty that just induces my "Oh give me a big, fat, nougat-filled break" eyeroll response. Angelina Jolie would not be my bag, and don't tell me that I'm in denial. Because as a black, Caribbean woman, surely you can understand that were I attracted to women, a slight, pale, White woman, lovely though she is, might just not be what gets me purring. So I get that part of BJ's meandering diatribe.

I also get the notion that it sometimes slips into our vernacular to - in the way we offer praise - reduce ourselves to what has been determined as women's most important worth. That is to say, we want to convey our thorough admiration for someone, man or woman, and the best we can do is to claim that we love him, or we want to marry her, or we want to have his babies. The commentary in those statements is that the highest praise and prize we can offer is ourselves as lover, wife, mother. Our verbal, intellectual praise or support is not enough. So that it's alright for a man to say as his highest praise "Oh I really support Obama's agenda. He's the best President the United States has seen in my lifetime." But we as women feel forced to say "Obama rocks. Seriously. I want to have his babies." And I get how it might happen. We're being a little facetious; we find it funny; and we don't really examine where it's coming from.

BJ takes it a step further, and suggests that when straight women make this kind of statement about other women, we are not just reducing ourselves to our sexuality and value as objects to be f*cked, but we are reducing those women as well.

[T]his I’d-so-sleep-with-her phenomenon is pretty much just a side shoot from the whole damn dirty deal where women are mainly for fucking and generally supplying sex and men are the choosers and enjoyers of that sex. And also the whole thing that every piece of expression of anything ever should be expressed in the kind of terms and ideas straight men would use, as if that is some kind of default language because straight men will get confused if you don’t because they have never learned anything else, and they’ve never learned anything else because they are the default so they don’t need to.

Well, ok. Except, your example of Angelina is a little weak if this is meant to be your point. Because really, while Angelina is very civic-minded and activist, her main product as actor and public persona has mostly been as a beautiful woman, not as a politician or writer or even, dare I say, as a brilliant actor. So it is, I think, reasonable to say that those women who say they want to sleep with Angelina are not doing as much reducing of her person to the mere sexual as say, those who say they want to sleep with Ruth Bader Ginsburg. I don't think this particular Angelina desire is based on the idea that in order to express your admiration for someone's work or ideology, you have to do so in language that men have invented and we have all appropriated. I think that these people probably do feel some kind of physical attraction: perhaps to look like her, if not to f*ck her. (Glory knows they couldn't possibly like her pouting snarling acting.)

And BJ includes a kind of cowardly caveat toward the end which, I think, she should have led with, or at least paid more attention to. And it is this:

I know this post can be read as somewhat, uh, dismissive of ideas of sexual fluidity. I do appreciate that there is a whole Kinsey scale and everything. And that wherever you might think of yourself on that scale it isn’t fixed for life, but I didn’t want to clutter up my beayootifuel writins with endless qualifications about how this might not apply if you are bisexual or some other kind of self identified sexual lucky dipper. But sexual fluidity can be used to wash away women’s own sexual identities. Too much fluidity, too much choice, ends – bizarrely – in homogeny.

The post is dismissive, and condescending, and patronizing and insulting. And even the disclaimer above is not much better. Because the writer is telling women: "wherever you may think yourself on the Kinsey scale, if you're straight, you probably don't relish the notion of licking Angelina's clitoris. You may think you do, but you really don't. I know." And even with a more generous interpretation, the disclaimer is meant for what she imagines are the small minority of self-aware, not-strictly-heterosexual women to whom her analysis does not apply, as against the misguided, staunchly heterosexual masses of us who can't express admiration except on men's terms.

And she is also telling us that we can't distinguish between admiring someone and wanting to sleep with them. Because we get confused, you see. We don't know what our little pink feelings are all about. And I find that anti-feminist. Yep. I done gone and used the A word. So bring it.




















Because I am able to distinguish and articulate my admiration of Rihanna's red carpet poise; and Aisha Tyler's hilarity; and Michelle Obama's eloquence; and Cate Blanchett's acting, as completely separate from the fact that I think Maria Bello has a beautiful mouth and Zoe Saldana is gorgeous and Jennifer Connelly is striking. The former I admire and respect for their talent, and can acknowledge that they're beautiful, but there is no level of physical attraction there. The latter I honestly find hot (not that they're not talented as well), and while I might not want to lick their vaginas because vaginas are not my bag, I can acknowledge that were I in their presence, I might pay attention to a little more than what they had to say. Granted, I've probably only stuck my toe out of Category 0 on the Kinsey Scale, but I own that. And my brain, female though it may be, is able to make that distinction. And let's not forget that a large part of physical attraction is tied up in the non-physical. I might be physically attracted to a man not just because he's pleasant to look at, but also perhaps because he's good at what he does, or seems kind, or speaks well. Might that not be what's involved in women - who identify as straight but feel a bit of loin-stirring for some members of their own sex - expressing their desire for other women? The factors of sexual attractiveness are not as black and white; as talent vs. f*ckability as BJ would suggest.

At some point BJ also half-jokingly suggests an either/or situation, as if to say "STFU no way you straight b*tches would sleep with Maggie over Jake [Gyllenhaal]!" Well that's hardly the point, is it? Since I'm straight, my preference for sexual activity is with men. A woman I might (and this is the hypothetical 'I' so please don't flood my Inbox with oh em gees about my sexuality) want to kiss or fondle or look at or masturbate over, depending on who I am. And I don't have to refrain from those feelings because you have determined that I have to be firmly planted at 0. Yes, I saw your "but I don't mean youuuu" disclaimer, and I ain't buying.

So while I do think we could all benefit from checking ourselves if we're given to using language of admiration that reduces both admirer and admiree to our worth as wives, mothers, lovers and nothing else, I also think that we need to be careful not to invalidate people's true feelings and experiences with our angry theories. The women-are-hot, frat-party, lesbian makeout dynamic among young, straight women is tired, yes. But seeking male validation is not always what's behind expressions of women's sexual desire. If you don't want to f*ck Angelina, then don't you f*ck her. But some of those who say they want to actually do. So I see some value in some of what you say, but in general, just stop policing everyone's sexuality. It must be exhausting.

Is the personal always (effectively) political?

Last Wednesday, women in Kenya, led by The Women's Development Organisation coalition, imposed a week-long sex boycott aimed at pressuring the country's two power-sharing leaders Prime Minister Raila Odinga and President Mwai Kibaki into resolving their conflicts. Amid fears that current rows could see a renewal of the election violence of 2007, in which 1500 people were killed and 300 000 forced from their homes, the women's groups have solicited the support of sex workers as well as Ida Odinga (left, pictured next to Lucy Kibaki), wife of Prime Minister Raila Odinga (below left, pictured next to Pres. Kibaki).

Patricia Nyaundi, executive director of the Federation of Women Lawyers (Fida), one of the organisations in the campaign, said they hoped the seven-day sex ban would force the squabbling rivals to make up.

"Great decisions are made during pillow talk, so we are asking the two ladies at that intimate moment to ask their husbands: 'Darling can you do something for Kenya?'"

It is the kind of tactic that certainly draws attention to power-sharing tensions in the country, but how valuable is it as a feminist action, and how effective can it be as a political strategy? Writing in the Guardian, Lola Adesioye declines to comment on the latter, but offers that regarding the former:

..this boycott is significant as it says a great deal about women's progress, the way in which women are reconsidering their role in Kenyan society and how they are reclaiming power where they can.

[...]

Africans can be pretty conservative on topics such as sex. For the older generation in particular, discussing sex in public is something you just don't do. In addition, unlike in the west, you tend not to hear African women sitting around talking casually and openly about it. Within that framework, taking such a politically-motivated sexually-orientated stance – actively withholding sex for a week and announcing it to the world – is, actually, a very bold and radical move.

[...]

Will this strike achieve its aims? That's debatable. However, even if the government doesn't end its feuding, this modern-day version of Lysistrata has already had a useful effect. It has put the spotlight on women's roles, power and rights and is showing how national politics affects the individual.

For women, at least, a week without sex is worth that.

But even in the context of a society where polygamy is still practiced, where sex is seen as a woman's duty to her husband and family, and where open discussion about sex is considered taboo and un-African, this strike is still a double-edged sword, with perhaps one side sharper and therefore more destructive than the other. Yes, it does represent a big "suck it" to the patriarchy that Kenyan women can declare ownership of their bodies and their sexual agency in this way. But at the same time, it says that this is their only card to play, their only value and their only contribution. And I find that problematic.

Adesioye argues that the strike " has put the spotlight on women's role, power and rights", but has it really? It seems to cast this role, power and rights strictly in terms of their usefulness as providers of sex and nothing else. It does not advance a dialogue on all the cases where even this role, even this sexual agency which is the minimum a woman should be able to exercise, is removed from her in the country's many cases of marital and community rape. It does not associate the lack of political consensus with other realities of women's lives such as insufficient access to water, food, health, education and security. And while it is encouraging to see women declare that their sexual lives are theirs to control or reveal as they decide, if the discourse stops here, then it arguably has done very little to advance women's economic security, their true political engagement, and the overall stability of fair and inclusive governance in that country.

Women are one-finger food

Because sneaking into a woman's shower to look at her naked is high-LAH-rious:



Hello. I'm a man. And all I need are video games, meat, and sexual gratification from women's bodies. And look how easy it is to acquire all three with very little effort - just the use of my finger. I mean, in the world I inhabit, they're all just there for the taking! (Well, granted, since one of those things involves another human being, I technically need consent. But hey...I'm a guy. We're cute, cheeky rascals. Boys will be criminal perverts!) Isn't life grand?

In defense of my right to like sports and Guinness: Part 1

Happy Monday! Oxymoron, you say? Not this Monday. The sun is shining today in London, and that's always cause for celebration. And it's real sunshine too - with actual warmth. Not the kind of vague, distant glow you tend to get here, as if the sun had been on a bender the night before and is up there lying on its couch, drinking Andrews and grumbling 'What do you want from me? I'm here aren't I? This is the best I can do right now!"

So here I am, raring to go following a weekend that was actually restful instead of just an extension of the work week. After I left you on Friday, I did rewatch Nacho Libre, whose song about why Ramses is not dancing at the party is still as genius as I remember. What I hadn't remembered was the random, sex-starved fat girl who eats all day and is too hideous to get a man so she has to literally crawl on her hands and knees to cut men (and Esqueleto) off at the pass, trap them and have her way with them. Aren't people tired of writing this character? Because I sure am tired of seeing it. You know, this might just be a rumour, but I'm made to understand that fat women can actually manage to find willing partners for sex if they so desire. It's one of those ideas that's so bizarre it might just be true.

Then on Saturday I went with my favourite DJ (we'll call him DJ because we have wild imaginations) to Camden, where we ate a mountain of vegan food, walked all around the market, sampled overpriced chocolate (and in his case, also a giant, jelly Smurf), and drank Guinness over a conversation about the quietly re-emerging notion that women who say they like sports are just lying to appear cool for men. That's right, folks. Join me on a journey back to the fifth century.

A few weeks ago, a woman at a message board where I post made the extremely insightful declaration that women who say they like (i) sports and (ii) Guinness are not sincere, but rather involved in an elaborate deception aimed solely at hooking themselves a fella. Given that I've been watching cricket since I found eyes in my head and consider Guinness the best food on earth, I am about to shake the foundations of her very existence. But it's not just anonymous message board lady. More and more, throughout this year's Premiership season particularly, it has seemed as if greater numbers of people are choosing a team and jumping on board. Apparently, this type of activity is frowned upon, especially - or only - when the people in question are women. DJ has been noticing it too. In fact, he brought it up, telling me about a guy he knows who is peeved to within an inch of his life when women dare to interject in sports conversations, because they're only johnny-come-latelies doing it to seem cool, and have no natural propensity to understand sports, no genuine interest in it, and nothing to add.

Now what strikes me as particularly hilarious about all this is that the man in question in DJ's story is from Barbados, just as we are. And in Barbados, we play a little of everything, but the only major sport in which we have a legitimate international presence is cricket. That means that support for teams in most sports is not home-grown, based on location or other traditional markers of loyalty. So most sports fans out there fit into two categories: they started playing the sport and were naturally drawn towards its highest exemplars on the international circuit; or they just happened along one day and decided to start watching because they found it entertaining. Neither of these groups, and particularly not the latter, has any kind of monopoly on fandom. Because if the fandom of the women you criticize is artificial, then surely so is yours, since you are not from Manchester or Liverpool and have no reason other than whim or circumstance for the team with which you are aligned. Just because someone is turned onto a sport after you have been doesn't make their admiration of it any less valid. The portal has not closed. New fans are born every day.

And the sports themselves have gone through trends in popularity. When I was growing up, it seemed like none of my peers cared or talked about cricket. The cricket team couldn't pay people to come with them to away matches, get-out-of-class-early pass be damned. NBA basketball was huge, as was track and field. Now, as with several other things, people's scope of interest is growing. And sport trends are changing. Basketball will always have its fans, but football is becoming that sport: the one that everyone has a team in. This is the way, and you don't get to pout about it because some woman dares to share an interest that you think you have dibs on as a marker of your manhood.

And I'm not sure what makes these particular men, some of whom have the agility of porridge and whose most energetic exploits to date are a game or two of Snakes and Ladders, any more disposed to appreciating sports than women are. Agility, strategy, speed, raw skill, camaraderie, politics: these are all aspects of sport that women appreciate. There are three major sports that I follow closely and enjoy: cricket from about the age of 4 introduced by my dad (who incidentally learnt from his mother); tennis from about age 11 introduced as part of the school programme and aided by a good friend at the time who would become a longtime partner; and football from about 12 years ago when I started playing competitively. And to be frank, I've never been inclined to talk to most men about sports. And here's why: I'm not interested in being fodder for your masculine self-affirmation; what I'm after is a real, analytical conversation. So if you can only quote me all of Michael Ballack's defensive stats and tell me how many eggs he had for breakfast on the day of his last match with Bayern, and that is your sole 'argument', then you can move along. I can memorize stats too. That's not what my love of the game is about. And I've found that quite a few men who have come late to following a sport, but who of course are not questioned on the validity of their support, often hide behind statistics, and use them to shout others down before the others realize that in fact, the shouter only discovered what 'offside' was yesterday. Incidentally, most of the men with whom I enjoy a heated sporting debate tend to be secure, well-adjusted people who don't fancy using conversation to try and surreptitiously bully women into accepting their 'rightful place.' Funny how that happens.

Now the whole 'women in sports' dialogue is complex, and there are certain things I'm not discussing here. I am not debating whether statistically more men than women follow sports: I think there is a discussion to be had on how we might express interest differently so that women's interest is sometimes not acknowledged as such, but I feel safe in saying that the number of men I know who enjoy sports is greater than the number of women, although among my Barbadian friends, with our cricket legacy, that gap starts to close somewhat. I am not debating whether women's professional leagues are as entertaining and therefore should attract similar levels of investment as men's. I'm contemplating a follow-up post in which I might address that. And I'm not saying that there are no women who have ever said, jokingly or otherwise, that they only watch football to see men's legs, or baseball for the tight pants. This is something I also want to come to later because when I started this post the sun was high in the sky and now it's almost dinnertime. The thing is way too long. But this is about the ludicrous notion that if you meet a woman who supports a given sports team, odds are, she's lying and is just saying it to seem cool (beyond the extent to which we all use knowledge of competition as a point of social engagement with other men and women). We know you would like to believe you're that central to our lives, but the plain truth is, you really aren't.