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April 27, 2006

Oops We Did It Again

When I woke up this morning, my husband said, "well, you have your work cut out for you today." "What do you mean?," I replied, thinking through the various tasks I'd scheduled. "Well," he told me, "Mark Sanchez was arrested for the rape of a USC undergraduate last night."

Oh.

No.

Ugh.

Mark Sanchez, our new golden boy, number two on the depth chart yet expected to make a run for starting quarterback against John David Booty, was released from custody after being booked on suspicion of sexual assault.

But what does this have to do with me?

Good question. On the one hand, it's big news since I am a huge football fan and season ticket holder and have myself been enjoying the pre-season buzz about this new phenom. I find myself having conversations about him with other sports fans, usually male, at places like the Parent's Dinner I attended last week. We are all building him up to legendary status before most of us have even seen him throw the ball.

And now another legend begins.

The second reason Mr. Dr. Diana Blaine knew this news would resonate powerfully with me on this cloudy Thursday relates to my position as resident Feminist Theorist on the USC campus. Last Spring, in case you don't know, I wrote an editorial which asked USC men, particularly our leaders, to hold themselves responsible for stopping rape. I'd taken this public position in spite of the backlash I knew it would generate as I felt it was time to call attention to the Elephant in the Living Room at USC which we were all seemingly ignoring. Over my years at the university, I had been privy to many tales told to me by female undergraduates of the myriad ways in which the sexism pervading the campus had affected them negatively, physically, emotionally, psychologically, and I was sick of seeing their access to higher education impeded by male privilege and the accompanying abuses. And I was sick of the deafening silence regarding this reality.

So I said so.

The incident which had broken this camel's back involved a young woman, a freshman, who had brought charges against Trojan footballer Eric Wright. I knew a number of things about the case, which include the fact that women are not generally lying when they expose themselves to public humiliation by making accusations of rape (and I don't care that some men need to pretend that they usually are); I also know particulars about this situation through insider sources which I will never name that helped me to have confidence in speaking out against an injustice that I am quite sure occurred. And while charges were dropped, as I predicted that they would be, the accused was also drummed off the team and out of the school, swept along like a pedophile priest to go cause headaches somewhere else, in this case UNLV.

Kinda makes you wonder if he wasn't in fact guilty, doesn't it?

So here we are again, barely a year later, with yet another accusation against a male Trojan athlete. I haven't any idea what happened, haven't heard from the women's spy network on this one yet and may never, so of course I have no way of knowing Sanchez's guilt or innocence. I do have history to go on, which suggests that smoke indicates fire and that the person who started the fire often walks away unscathed, unlike the victims, who remain deeply scarred forever.

If we keep doing the same things, we will get the same results. This feminist says it's time to change the way we do things, even if that means that we are not the #1 team in the country. After all, football is just a game. Women's lives, on the other hand, are real, and we must stop the misogynist culture of male athletics on college campuses that lets men use females as objects to dominate and then toss on the trash heap when they're through asserting in the most cowardly way possible the hypermasculinity encouraged by institutionalized sports.

April 23, 2006

Gag Me With A Spoon

I recently received this, er, poem, from a student of mine:


A little boy asked his mother, "why are you crying?"

"Because I'm a woman," she told him.
"I don't understand" he said.
His mom just hugged him and said,
"And you never will."
Later the little boy asked his father,
" Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?"

"All women cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still
wondering why women cry.

Finally he put in a call to God.
When God got on the phone, he asked,
"God, why do women cry so easily?"
God said, "When I made the woman
She had to be a special.
I made her shoulders strong enough
To carry the weight of the world, yet gentle
enough to give comfort.
I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth
and the rejection that many times comes from
her children.
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going
When everyone else gives up, and take care of
her family through sickness and fatigue
without complaining.
I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under
any and all circumstances, even when her child
has hurt her very badly.
I gave her the strength to carry her husband
through his faults, and fashioned her from his
rib to protect his heart.
I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never
hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve
to stand beside him. unfalteringly.

And finally, I gave her a tear to shed.
This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed"
"You see my son," said God,
"The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears,
the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes,
because that is the doorway to her heart ---
the place where love resides."

As I read through it, I had a complicated series of emotional responses. Mostly I was surprised that this wonderful student of mine who is so familiar with my politics and had taken my Feminist Theory class would send me something like this. I struggled to enjoy the piece, searching for a feeling of connection or familiarity, but instead grew increasingly disgusted with the treacly sentiment and assertion that it's woman's job to be the giant silent doormat of the world, that is if she's a good one.

Still, I thought, Diana why do you have to be so negative? Why can't you enjoy this for what it is? You know how hard women work at making the world kinder, at feeding their families, at showing love in the face of insults. How about sending it to your married friend who strives to be the perfect Christian wife and mother?

Because, I thought, because I am not co-signing this sexist b.s. Because women are people not objects. Because we vary from person to person. Because men shouldn't maintain privilege by feigning ignorance. Because it's not fair to expect us to shoulder all of the emotional burdens not to mention the majority of the unpaid domestic labor. Because WE DIDN'T COME FROM MEN'S BODIES; MEN COME FROM OURS!!!!!

Yes, it was when I hit the part about the rib that I knew irretrievably there was no way I could appreciate these sentiments even though I was "supposed" to and even though I truly care about the young woman who sent it to me. Oh well, I thought, she doesn't have to know that I was disgusted and turned off.

Just then I noticed her message written below the text:

"This made me want to barf. I thought you would be entertained."

Ha! Right on, Arianna. I am glad this Man Hating Feminazi has ruined another perfectly nice white girl by teaching you to think for yourself.

Now, if only I can convert her to lesbianism. Moo-hooo-hahahahahaha!!!!!

April 22, 2006

Dazed and Confused

Playing too much coffee! Drinking too much Tetris!

April 12, 2006

Note to Christians: Get off the Pity Pot!!!

Monday the front page of the LA Times featured the saga of a young woman who feels oppressed by the fact that she cannot gay-bash at Georgia Tech, where she studies, among other things, the hatred passing as spirituality propagated in the Bible and Christianity as an institution.

Pardon me while I boo-hoo-hoo.

She's suing, of course, to retain her "rights," since the latest propaganda-ploy by those crafty Jesus-types is to flip reality on its head and claim that the people who own everything, run everything, make all the laws, and generally control life as we know it in the United States are in fact powerless and in need of defense.

Howzat again?????

I'm just re-reading Rubyfruit Jungle, Rita Mae Brown's defiant and heart-breaking and hysterical account of her heroine's life spent zigging and zagging to deflect the blows of the Moral Majority. They attack her character, her desires, her ethics, her beliefs, her looks, her choices, her actions; they commit her to an asylum for having consensual sex; they strip her of her college scholarship; they project every hateful belief they can onto her and feel righteous and justified in doing so.

So exactly WHO is being oppressed? Is it the people who cannot marry, love freely, adopt, and be themselves, or is it the people who CAN marry, love freely, adopt, be themselves? Not a real hard question, particularly for smart college girls like that one at Georgia Tech.

Unless of course her god insists that she minds other peoples' business. So a naked power play to discriminate against innocents disguises itself as a reasonable response to the Georgia Tech ban on hate-speech. Let me break down the logic of their rhetoric: I cannot let gays advance in their rights because I don't want them to and your stopping me from stopping them limits my "freedom."

Nope. If we forced you to have gay sex, Ms. Christian; if we forced you to get abortions, Ms. Christian; if we prevented you from adopting because we don't want innocent children exposed to your brand of hate, Ms. Christian; if we forbade you from marrying your choice of partner, Ms. Christian; THEN you would have something to sue about. And I would be right there using my considerable powers to help you.

But in the meanwhile, why don't you just try, just try, to do what your Jesus would do, and love your brother instead of suing for the right to call him a pervert?

Just a thought.

April 09, 2006

What's On My Bedside Table?

In no particular order:

The Journey from Abandonment to Healing by Susan Anderson (thanks Rob!)
The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous
Appetites by Caroline Knapp (thanks Larkin!)
Down and Dirty Sex Secrets by Tristan Taormino (recommended by my Burning Man lover)
The National Enquirer
Star Magazine
A Woman's Way Through the Twelve Steps by Stephanie Covington (thanks Di!)
Peacework by Henri Nouwen
The Ethical Slut by Dossie Easton and Catherine Liszt (Justin recommended this one when I was holding forth about the inherent limitations of monogamy)

Who the hell has this mishmash of interests? You know, if I didn't already know me, I would definitely want to meet me!

April 07, 2006

Another Myth Put to Rest

Q: Is there really such a thing as a biological clock?

A: If you mean some inner drive to reproduce, no. Since reliable birth control has only emerged in the last 50 years, there was no reason for such an urge to develop as we evolved. Breeding was a given, not a choice, and therefore certainly not something nature needed to compel us to do. Even if lower birth rates might cause an evolutionary shift and create some "biological clock" to make us reproduce since we have found so many wonderful reasons not to, such a mechanism would not evolve over a few decades. So all the pressure we supposedly feel comes entirely from culture, not nature.

p.s. I don't feel any urge to have children at all. The only clock I hear ticking is the desire for greater personal freedom, not less.

April 02, 2006

All Evidence to the Contrary, Nature Is Still In Charge

Lately I have been playing lots of Tetris. It's all about solving problems, and it's got me thinking about the nature of human consciousness. Why? Because that's the nature of human consciousness, or at least that's the nature of human consciousness in people like me. We like to solve problems, to encounter life as a puzzle that needs solving. So I think, a lot, about everything, all the time, even about the fact that I think a lot, all the time, about everything.

This analytical orientation has brought us some of the wonderful innovations that make modern life in the Western world so pleasurable. See a need, and fix it, even if it seems to defy nature, as does air travel or organ transplant or refrigeration, etc.

But. This analytical orientation also brings us much of our modern misery as we continue to insist upon conquering life rather than accepting its ambiguity and brevity as inevitable. As I watch my elderly father struggle with diseases near the end of his life, I feel both humbled and impotent. I'd like to magically "fix" all of this, his confusion, weakness, and pain. Instead I alternate between rage and bewilderment, wondering how in this world of wonders, we can ultimately become so helpless that there's nothing left to do.

But play Tetris.