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November 20, 2006

God Who? And Can I Show My Skin?

We had such an interesting class discussion last week. I invited several Muslim women in to speak to the students; each of them chooses to cover her hair and conform in various other ways to the dress codes mandated by Islam. As we so often we openly decry veiling and view such women as helpless objects in need of our (Western White Christian Enlightenment) rescue, I wanted to give them a chance to speak for themselves, articulating what wearing the head covering offers them in terms of personal self identity and life satisfaction.

They both did this beautifully, letting the class see from their perspective how obedience to religious dictates enables them to feel that their lives have meaning above and beyond that of quotidian secular existence. One said that her God asks her to be her best self; in her world view this means playing down the baser aspects of humanity, discouraging emphasis on materialism and competition and unrestrained sexuality.

I completely understand her position. I too want a life rich in meaning. I too want to be seen as something other than an object. I too want to be of service to my family, my community, my world.

So isn't it fascinating that we find such different ways of achieving these ends?

Most obviously, my position as (Western White Enlightenment Radical) Feminist means that I do not, cannot, will not, look to ancient patriarchal texts to legitimize my existence. For example, while my guests explained that in Islam there is no gender to God, there most certainly is in Christianity, my natal religion. God's a man. A big man. A REALLY big man, who looms over us all and passes judgement. In their original languages, the Judeo-Christian texts explicity use male nouns and pronouns. God's a Father; God's a He. This is not opinion, as people often say. It’s right there in black and white.

Why no female manifestation of the divine? How utterly, utterly, sexist. Other cultures do not exclude the possibility of the godhead being a woman. Last night on 60 Minutes they showed an Indian deity who rides a tiger, demonstrating that She has dominion over the most powerful animal on earth. Where's that notion of omnipotent femininity in MY culture? Why am I left with Paris Hilton as the only female fetish? Not good enough.

Secondly, in the religion in which I grew up, I am asked to accept the fact that I am stained with sin, originally and utterly, thanks to the disobedient and impulsive behavior of a female. I don't believe any of this. Never did. Don't see how others can. It's so utterly preposterous, the tale of Eden, so thoroughly fabulous and naïve in its construction, that to accept it as fact would require that I suspend everything I know about the world around me.

And for what? To "get" to accept my sinful nature? Yuck. Yesterday I was listening to a televangelist who was talking about how to live. I was following along as he asked us to consider our choices, be attentive to the meaning of our lives; I nodded as he encouraged the audience to watch out for red flags, eschewing behaviors we know wouldn't be in our own best interests despite cultural desire to do them. Great advice! And then he said: "Is what you're doing worth Jesus dying for?" And there he lost me.

Huh? What? You're actually going to impose some morbid, bizarre, lurid guilt trip on me in order to coerce compliance to your limited way of living? I just about reeled in shock, which is pretty funny given that I was watching a televangelist. What did I expect? But still, there’s something completely revolting to me about this story, that I occasioned the torture murder of someone else. I know we can do better than this in defining who we are as human beings and encouraging ourselves and one another to seek mental, physical, emotional and spiritual health.

Then he asked where I was going to spend eternity. Now I don't know about you, but when someone tells me he knows for sure what happens after we die, I know he's lying. He might not mean to be lying, he might even believe what he's saying, but he's sure as shooting not speaking from any kind of knowledge base that I can endorse. Empirical evidence strongly suggests that when we die, we're dead. Duh. I guess that's the Post-Enlightenment thinker in me, one who trusts what can be proven and discounts what cannot. Forget those ancient texts. There's no proof they're divinely inspired. In fact there's buckets of evidence to the contrary. Forget the promises of an afterlife. There's no evidence of one. In fact there's no reason to believe in this myth at all.

It's important to note the word "reason" in my last sentence. The reason vs faith dichotomy forces us to see only two possibilities, that things either exist only if we can prove them or that there's a whole unknown universe that we must trust in and--in the case of organized religion--obey the mandates of lest we undergo eternal punishment for failing to do so.

I'm not nuts about either one of these. To accept fully the secular rational philosophy, I must claim that I know that everything can be known and I cannot know that. To accept fully the faith-based worldview, I must suspend massive disbelief in the existence of an omniscient deity and swallow the superstitions handed down by ancients, many of which relegate the female to secondary status and require that we see ourselves exclusively as helpmates to men. Plus I have to believe a guy built an ark and put all the animals on it and the whole world flooded ‘cuz God hated everybody but him and and and and, well, just, no.

So where does that leave someone like me? Good question. I'm certainly not going to convert to Islam. I've no more faith in the veracity of that theology than I do in the one in which I was raised. I'm certainly not going to endorse female modesty because a patriarchal deity allegedly ordered us to cover ourselves. In fact one of my students sent me a news release about increasing pressure in Iran to separate males and females into different universities. They are already in separate classes, but apparently that's not separate enough.

What really caught my eye about this article, however, was the passage that said political students are being banned from classes and there's a call for the "purge of liberal and secular lecturers." Uh oh. Believe or get out.

How I fear that adamancy, in Iran, in the United States, anywhere on the planet. Apparently most people don't share my skepticism, feeling secure in their faith in these ancient texts and most willing to impose their dictates on others. I see it in my own country all the time as gays are excluded from equal rights; as abortion becomes less and less available; as teachers are silenced for having beliefs outside the mainstream.

How grateful I was that USC did not fire me following the scandal that erupted over my photos last Spring. Other female teachers have been fired in similar circumstances. And speaking of those photos, I definitely want to continue this piece, contemplating in what ways I agree with my guests from last week--that females can be viewed as objects if we don't take steps to resist this totalizing sexist metanarrative about our essence--and how I also see a problem with the idea that covering ourselves up is the answer. If I believed that, I wouldn't have gone naked at Burning Man and documented that liberating journey on the web. Indeed, I am quite sure that the answer is a rejection of binary thinking altogether: women either cover or we're whores. How else can we imagine the body, female sexuality, nudity, freedom, spirituality, humility, morality, without having to choose between two hugely unappetizing choices?

So like I say, there's more to say, but it's just such a heartbreakingly beautiful day that I also want to go ride my bike. And that’s what I’m going to do.

November 10, 2006

Hope

It's been an absolutely amazing week.

Tuesday I presented my slides of dead women in advertising to the feminist theory class. To preface the horrific display, I quoted Ynestra King, who describes western patriarchal attempts to control nature--as if men aren't nature--by attempting to control human females (along with other non-human animals and the environment in general).

Of course this desire to transcend woman and nature cannot work, writes King, and thus "develops a love-hate fetishization of women's bodies, which finds its ultimate manifestation in the sadomasochistic, pornographic displays of women as objects to be subdued, humiliated, and raped--the visual enactment of these fears and desires" (The Ecology of Feminism and the Feminism of Ecology.)

Cue the advertising images, all of which depict females as corpses, trussed up, collapsed, raped, humiliated, and silenced. These horrific pictures didn’t emerge from some serial killer's imagination as he awaits the needle on death row; they come from our beloved Madison Avenue, for the express purpose of getting people to buy products, dead objects juxtaposed with the dead objectified females positioned alongside them.

And now that it's the Christmas season, our materialistic shopping frenzy is supposed to kick into high gear. Praise the Lord and pass the American Express card. He is Risen!

The images shocked and outraged many of the students in class, as they should, even though we have all seen them before. There's real power in collecting them, explaining their ideological underpinnings, and, in the case of feminism, resisting their message, giving women permission NOT to see themselves as objects, giving men permission NOT to see women as objects, NOT to accept dominance as their only form of self-expression.

Powerful stuff indeed.

It is for this very reason, the profound explanatory genius of feminist theory, that I knew when I first encountered it that I would never, could never, see the world the old way again. I knew I would no longer view myself and other women through the artifice of the male gaze, that constructed perspective from which the vast majority of our narratives are positioned.

This male perspective dominates everything from the Ten Commandments (“don't covet thy neighbor's wife,” hmm I don’t have a wife, I AM a wife, guess this isn’t addressing me) to the ad for an ovulation detector one of my students brought to my office yesterday, which shows a man watching his wife in the kitchen as she dances on the counter and he waves money. She's forced to prostitute herself in her own home and we are to find this a charming encounter, watching him watching her, accepting the reality that power and money are in the hands of men--literally in this ad--and our job as females is to ingratiate and humiliate ourselves in order to curry favor with the master class.

BAH!

So even though I am often overwhelmed by the pervasiveness of sexism, the genie's out of the bottle. I cannot stop working and praying for peace and justice any more than I can stop breathing or sleeping. I get fed by the work that I do, watching young people learn to think for themselves after they encounter these brilliant theoretical works and learn how they apply to our everyday lives, every second, all the time, allowing them to truly choose as opposed to being coerced into going along with an agenda that they don't even know is in place, aren't even allowed to identify as ideological.

Then after that stirring and inspiring class I got to go vote. Luckily no one tried to stop me as various conservative organizations have tried to stop voters with whom they disagree from voting ever since the beginning of the democratic process in this country. I placed my votes last Tuesday for those people and laws that I believed in, not really expecting change, but hoping, as I always do, that we can move the country back into a kinder and saner and fairer place.

And then Wednesday morning I awoke to found out that indeed millions of other people want the same things I do. They want us to stop killing innocent people in Iraq. They want the American kids over there to come home. They want women in South Dakota to have control over their bodies. They want young women in California to have control over their bodies. They trust the party that would appoint a female as the Speaker of the House for the first time in U.S. history.

And they don't like Rumsfeld neither!

My friends and colleagues all over the country found ourselves in an unusual position, one that permits us to see our vision recharged, to see the possibilities for positive movement become not only real, but inevitable. When the brilliant forceful Nancy Pelosi was asked by a reporter what differences could really be made, she said a change in the civilian leadership at the pentagon would be a good start.

Well said, Madam Speaker.

And two hours later, Rummy was out of a job.

Now I don't kid myself. The guy's a vampire. He'll re-emerge in some other context before too long, sucking life blood out of some program somewhere, but it was certainly lovely to see a woman in a position of power calling for--demanding?--some sanity, and getting it.

Then Carol Adams arrived! I have to pause here and breathe a sigh of gratitude and thanks to the stars that brought us together, first allowing me to encounter her and her work in 1997 while I was teaching at the University of North Texas, and that continue to allow us to be in contact. All those years ago her slideshow changed my life, caused me to see the same world differently, made obvious the link between the degradation of the non-human animal and the human female. Obvious.

It's right in front of our faces every day, in every Carl’s Jr. ad, but we don't see it, don’t have the vocabulary to describe it, at least not until someone like Carol has the courage and the vision to stand up and call it what it is, in her case "The Pornography of Meat."

She gave her presentation last night at USC, following by a reception with life-giving raw foods, and I was just thrilled and gratified to see so many of my students there, not just from the Feminist Theory class but from Writing 340 as well. I give no extra credit, do no infantilizing bribing of them for attending; I simply told them the truth, that her work changed my life and if they want their lives changed, they should go. Many did. These are young people taking advantage of the opportunity to grow as human beings. This gives me hope.

Beforehand I dined with Carol and two amazing undergraduate women, Anjali and Erinne, and we spoke at length about female wisdom, about health and healing and knowledge and inequity and the possibility for change. Periodically we'd all reflect back on the Democratic sweep of both houses, of the failure of the anti-abortion fundamentalists, of the bestowing of Speakership on a female--finally--and it was hard at those moments not to believe: in a future without starvation; in a future without cruelty; in a future without sexism; in a future without racism; in a future without homophobia; in a future without toxic substances in our air, water and food; in everything I believe would make this absolutely gorgeous planet even better and would fulfill our mission as moral human beings, particularly in this resource rich nation where we have the power to effect so much change for the better.

I turn 45 today. I plan to spend the next 45 years doing everything I can to be of service to the planet and its people, and it's gratifying to know that so many people want to be of service too, that so many people have faith in women, a faith I have learned not through sexism but through feminism.

Is everything going to be o.k. now? Oh please.

But do I have hope?

Oh yeah.

Big time.

November 03, 2006

Donald Rumsfeld Hates Life

I am driving a friend to the doctor this morning. Last week she began experiencing a multitude of disturbing problems. First she lost her balance at work. Then her right eye started to droop. Next her knees gave out completely and she fell to the ground while trying to do the laundry. Doctors have been confused about what might be happening to her.

I am afraid I know.

Over the years as this dear woman has struggled with body issues like the rest of us lucky American females, she has made ample use of aspertame, that artificial sweetener packaged as NutraSweet and found in most "diet" products. I have worried about this each time I saw her open those blue packs and pour them into her coffee. I have worried about this each time I saw her open those blue packs and pour them on canned pumpkin, one of her favorite treats. I worried about this as I dumped her trash for her the other day and saw the many empty blue packs, fearing they contained the answer to her mysterious disease.

A number of years ago I mentioned to her that I was not sure this product was safe. But of course my vague concerns carry no weight compared to the massive marketing featuring this chemical additive, and, perhaps even more compellingly, the FDA approval that aspertame enjoys.

Our government wouldn't do anything to hurt us, would it? No one would knowingly offer a product for sale that he knows can cause horrific physical problems with moderate to heavy use, would he? No one could be that greedy, could they?

Meet Donald Rumsfeld.

Before he engineered the massive slaughter of innocent Iraqis and impoverished American soldiers, he sold his soul to Searle, who hired him specifically to get around a longstanding governmental ban on the toxic aspertame. It worked. A girlfriend of mine once told me that she lived near the shuttered factory that had been built to produce NutraSweet. It sat empty for years as the company fought to get FDA approval for their sweetener in spite of much scientific evidence revealing its dangers. She said that at 12:01 a.m. the morning of President Ronald Reagan's new administration, that factory shuddered to life. The lights kicked on, the machinery started to crank, and my friend's fate was sealed. Searle would only just submit its new application later that day, but started making the stuff anyway since Rumsfeld announced he would call in favors to push it through. They knew it would get approved no matter what the science said.

Thanks President Reagan! Thanks Donald Rumsfeld! I sure hope you enjoyed spending the money that you made. I know that's the American Dream, getting rich. Never mind the consequences.

When Adam Smith engineered the idea of the free market he warned that this new concept of "self interest" needed to be "enlightened" or it would result in massive greed, a society which lacks justice and features men who care about nothing but money.

Welcome to America.

While John Kerry, who actually WENT to war, has to bow and scrape for pointing out the inconvenient truth that our troops are made up of folks who have no other options, other men who never even served operate in complicity with multinational corporations to line their pockets at the expense of everyone else, here and around the world, human and non-human, destroying the environment, curtailing our freedoms, and mouthing platitudes about their patriotism.

Meanwhile my friend falls down.

For shame.