Dearest Readers, this long-overdue post is a hodgepodge of links, which I haven't even bothered to proofread. Internet grammar hawks, read at your own risk.
Recently I wrote an article for Patheos about why feminism needs to be about men, as well as about women. One of my major concerns is that far too few conversations recognize the prevalence with which men are victims of sexual assault. When any female feminist tries to banish the topic of male victimhood from the feminist movement, that rejection and denial only adds to the cultural stigma which these survivors are already fighting to tear down. In a heart-breaking but very necessary project, 27 men share what they were told by perpetrators and/or those they confided in [trigger warning]. Far too many were told that "men can't be raped" or to "man up" and simply get over symptoms of PTSD. I've done enough research to verify that these responses are both common for and feared by male survivors of sexual assault.
If you have sensibilities anything like mine, you might not want to hang out at the beaches in Stockholm now that a judge has ruled public masturbation at the beach to be legal. Yes, you read that correctly. When a man was arrested for doing just that, the court ruled that it could not be considered sexual assault, since it was not directed at any one individual. Apparently the city of Stockholm did not feel it had enough negative connotations attached to its name already.
Next up, for the first time ever, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is live-broadcasting the Priesthood Session of General Conference on the internet and television. Some context: the Mormon bloggernacle (and all of facebook) has been alight recently with debates about female ordination and the role of Mormon women in a church whose hierarchy fills all of the highest position with (predominately white and affluent) men. Understand, please, that I'm stating a fact about the demographics in church leadership and not actually attempting to pass judgment on those demographics one way or another. Make of the facts what you will.
While female ordination has been an ongoing debate for years, the Ordain Women website and organization recently sparked new discussions by requesting tickets to the Priesthood Session of the Church's Semi-Annual General Conference. General Conference runs over the course of two weekends and includes four 2-hour sessions for general audiences, plus a 1-hour session for either adult women or teenage women depending on whether it's Fall of Spring. The conferences take place in Salt Lake City in the Conference Center but are broadcast live all over the world. Up until now, only the Priesthood session was not broadcast live on the internet and TV. Why not? I can't really say - maybe to encourage men to watch it together at church, or perhaps to make sure women didn't feel obligated to watch the session.
Whatever the reason for making the session more restrictive than others, OW's plan of showing up at the conference center unleashed enough harsh responses on the internet that I'll admit I'm trying to forget which of my friends proudly wrote (or shared another's writing) about feeling angry at or hating all the feminists who wanted to be ordained. Let's just say that I've officially lost all patience for anyone who dismisses another's desire for ordination. Disagree with their methods all you want, but don't you dare assume their desire for greater power to serve the Lord is inherently wrong. Granted, some of the tension happened within Mormon feminism, much of it in response to Patheos articles written by Margaret Young. Young has written a lovely follow-up post with ideas on how we can all be more inclusive.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Racial Bias and the Lenses We Use to Interpret Zimmerman's Trial
I was in Georgia when I first heard the story of Trayvon Martin's death, though a few days earlier I'd glimpsed the headline on a newspaper that had been delivered to my hotel room in St Louis. After a week on the road, traveling first to St Louis for an academic conference and then to Georgia to visit a campus where I'd been accepted into a PhD program, I wasn't paying much attention to the news.
So my first real exposure to the story involved seeing African American student protesters in GA, who were holding up signs that called for justice. This was all before Zimmerman had even been arrested, a factor that horrified a national audience who knew all of the incriminating details (such as Zimmerman being told by a 911 dispatcher not to pursue the young man in the hoody) without knowing about the fist fight that would eventually clear Zimmerman's name in court, if not in the public eye.
At the time, I couldn't have imagined how polarizing this case would become in national discourse. Even after hearing details about Zimmerman's injuries and the fist fight that he was using as his justification for shooting and killing Trayvon, it seemed clear that there was enough evidence to at least pursue a criminal trial. Whether Zimmerman was ultimately determined guilty or not guilty in court, the situation merited that day in court. And the local law enforcement's delay in arresting and charging him disturbed me because it was hard not to interpret that oversight through the lens of our nation's historical distrust of black men and disregard for their lives.
It takes little research to uncover that history, a history not nearly so far in the past as most white Americans like to think. And it doesn't take much observation to note the bias with which so many friends and acquaintances treat the phrase "big black guy" as a redundant description of African American and black men. And so what has disturbed me about this situation, more than the outcome of this one individual trial, are the dismissive remarks I've heard others make, where some have even claimed that Zimmerman was only tried because he was not black.
Such remarks reflect great ignorance about American history, including recent history and the role that even subtle racial bias plays in the way Americans make decisions that affect other people. Decisions ranging from which job applicant to hire, to which contestant on The Voice to vote for, to how much pain killer a patient will need. And we're often unaware of the role these biases play, because the bias is only one factor in how we interpret a situation. So it's easy to focus on the other factors in the situation and never recognize that we'd have preferred a different job applicant if only she had lighter skin.
As a white American, I understand that it can feel exhausting to be reminded of our racial privilege and to be frequently asked to recognize that privilege and change our actions accordingly. I recall how I felt the first time a black friend held white Americans as a group responsible for what had been done to her ancestors - we were both ten years old when we had that conversation, and it was not the most eloquent discussion to ever take place. I recall replying, "I know, and it's terrible," while inwardly feeling a bit frustrated by being blamed for things I had not contributed to as a ten-year-old child.
But I also recall the conversation my entire fourth grade class had when that friend was called the N-word by a stranger at a gas station in our rural New England town. And I recall hearing my father and his mother refer to black people as "darkies" or even by the N-word on one occasion. And when I came to college and a friend from North Carolina told me that as individuals black people could be wonderful but that "when they're in large groups they turn violent," another friend from South Carolina insisted that I simply didn't understand his remarks because I wasn't from the South. I can attest that southern states do not have a monopoly on racism or on the ability to recognize it.
And my perspective was necessarily expanded when for three of my years in college I lived with a black roommate, who first of all insisted that I add "black" back into my vocabulary, since not all black people are American and not all black Americans identify as African American. And I heard stories from her about the struggles her mother went through to get medical treatment for teenage sons whom inner city doctors assumed to be high and not ill. And I heard a very complicated take on Rudy Giuliani's efforts to decrease crime in NYC, efforts that were largely effective but at the cost of harassing innocent black men and even turning a blind eye in cases where police officers killed innocent black men.
And when I dated a black man while living in Utah, I saw the looks strangers sometimes gave us when we were in public. And one night when I had stayed on campus late and he jogged to campus to walk me home so I wouldn't be in any danger, I watched as a security guard ignored the other students who were leaving campus along with us and focused on me and the man I was dating. As we held hands and laughed together, the security guard trailed us for awhile before approaching to ask, "Everything okay?" Before that incident, this man had expressed fear of being falsely accused of assaulting a white woman, and I had rolled my eyes because I didn't understand the vulnerable position in which the color of his skin left him.
So if you're a white person who's tempted to think that we're living in a post-racial America or that racism would fade away all together if black people simply forgot about events that happened to their parents and grandparents, that might just be because you're enjoying the privilege of not being followed across a crowded parking lot simply because you have darker skin than the woman you're walking home late at night. In other words, it might be the racial privilege you're denying which is preventing you from seeing that privilege in the first place.
In the following video, Obama gives what I think is a fair but helpful response to the national dialogue surrounding this trial. What's of most interest to me is the first ten minutes or so when he explains the type of heightened scrutiny that most black American and African American men experience regularly and which white people tend to simply overlook.
So my first real exposure to the story involved seeing African American student protesters in GA, who were holding up signs that called for justice. This was all before Zimmerman had even been arrested, a factor that horrified a national audience who knew all of the incriminating details (such as Zimmerman being told by a 911 dispatcher not to pursue the young man in the hoody) without knowing about the fist fight that would eventually clear Zimmerman's name in court, if not in the public eye.
At the time, I couldn't have imagined how polarizing this case would become in national discourse. Even after hearing details about Zimmerman's injuries and the fist fight that he was using as his justification for shooting and killing Trayvon, it seemed clear that there was enough evidence to at least pursue a criminal trial. Whether Zimmerman was ultimately determined guilty or not guilty in court, the situation merited that day in court. And the local law enforcement's delay in arresting and charging him disturbed me because it was hard not to interpret that oversight through the lens of our nation's historical distrust of black men and disregard for their lives.
It takes little research to uncover that history, a history not nearly so far in the past as most white Americans like to think. And it doesn't take much observation to note the bias with which so many friends and acquaintances treat the phrase "big black guy" as a redundant description of African American and black men. And so what has disturbed me about this situation, more than the outcome of this one individual trial, are the dismissive remarks I've heard others make, where some have even claimed that Zimmerman was only tried because he was not black.
Such remarks reflect great ignorance about American history, including recent history and the role that even subtle racial bias plays in the way Americans make decisions that affect other people. Decisions ranging from which job applicant to hire, to which contestant on The Voice to vote for, to how much pain killer a patient will need. And we're often unaware of the role these biases play, because the bias is only one factor in how we interpret a situation. So it's easy to focus on the other factors in the situation and never recognize that we'd have preferred a different job applicant if only she had lighter skin.
As a white American, I understand that it can feel exhausting to be reminded of our racial privilege and to be frequently asked to recognize that privilege and change our actions accordingly. I recall how I felt the first time a black friend held white Americans as a group responsible for what had been done to her ancestors - we were both ten years old when we had that conversation, and it was not the most eloquent discussion to ever take place. I recall replying, "I know, and it's terrible," while inwardly feeling a bit frustrated by being blamed for things I had not contributed to as a ten-year-old child.
But I also recall the conversation my entire fourth grade class had when that friend was called the N-word by a stranger at a gas station in our rural New England town. And I recall hearing my father and his mother refer to black people as "darkies" or even by the N-word on one occasion. And when I came to college and a friend from North Carolina told me that as individuals black people could be wonderful but that "when they're in large groups they turn violent," another friend from South Carolina insisted that I simply didn't understand his remarks because I wasn't from the South. I can attest that southern states do not have a monopoly on racism or on the ability to recognize it.
And my perspective was necessarily expanded when for three of my years in college I lived with a black roommate, who first of all insisted that I add "black" back into my vocabulary, since not all black people are American and not all black Americans identify as African American. And I heard stories from her about the struggles her mother went through to get medical treatment for teenage sons whom inner city doctors assumed to be high and not ill. And I heard a very complicated take on Rudy Giuliani's efforts to decrease crime in NYC, efforts that were largely effective but at the cost of harassing innocent black men and even turning a blind eye in cases where police officers killed innocent black men.
And when I dated a black man while living in Utah, I saw the looks strangers sometimes gave us when we were in public. And one night when I had stayed on campus late and he jogged to campus to walk me home so I wouldn't be in any danger, I watched as a security guard ignored the other students who were leaving campus along with us and focused on me and the man I was dating. As we held hands and laughed together, the security guard trailed us for awhile before approaching to ask, "Everything okay?" Before that incident, this man had expressed fear of being falsely accused of assaulting a white woman, and I had rolled my eyes because I didn't understand the vulnerable position in which the color of his skin left him.
So if you're a white person who's tempted to think that we're living in a post-racial America or that racism would fade away all together if black people simply forgot about events that happened to their parents and grandparents, that might just be because you're enjoying the privilege of not being followed across a crowded parking lot simply because you have darker skin than the woman you're walking home late at night. In other words, it might be the racial privilege you're denying which is preventing you from seeing that privilege in the first place.
In the following video, Obama gives what I think is a fair but helpful response to the national dialogue surrounding this trial. What's of most interest to me is the first ten minutes or so when he explains the type of heightened scrutiny that most black American and African American men experience regularly and which white people tend to simply overlook.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Colorado Fires and Body Memories: What is Trauma?
This post by our very own Erica also appeared in Go Girl Magazine.
Experiencing a fire can cause trauma. But what can help? Image from wildforestfires.com.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s somatic memory. It’s what makes your stomach ache, your throat close off, and your muscles clench when you remember something bad. It’s what makes you feel awful when you encounter stimuli that remind you of that bad thing. Maybe you remember a rape. Maybe you remember a pickpocketing. Maybe you remember being laughed at. Whatever the cause, it feels awful because your memory — your past – is impacting your present in an uncontrollable way.
Here’s a recent example:
Last year, running from the Waldo Canyon Fire in Colorado, I remember spending days wandering around in a daze, exhausted but unrefreshed by sleep, constantly fighting a cringing, sickly feeling in my stomach. It took several months before I felt normal again. I thought I’d finally recovered when the sight of campfire smoke no longer sent me into a spiral of fear. Then the Black Forest Fire broke out just last week, and the same sleeplessness and nausea returned. Even though I was less attached to possessions this time around — detachment as coping, anyone? — I was still a walking bundle of nerves.
Trauma happens all the time, whether through violent acts or surprise disasters from nature. Whilepost-traumatic stress disorder has very specific diagnostic criteria, “trauma” refers to a much broader range of psychosomatic symptoms that can show up in the aftermath of an unusually stressful or threatening event. Here are a few:
- Restlessness
- Inability to concentrate
- Unusual physiological sensations, like jangling nerves or nausea
- Constant worry
- Hyper-awareness of your surroundings
- Low energy
- Fatigue
- Difficulty sleeping, including nightmares
- Flashbacks
- Numbing out, including using self-harm or substances
- Avoiding anything or anyone that might trigger a memory
Why are somatic memory and trauma showing up in a column on sexual politics around the world? Because this is what happens when people are harmed. This is how we, as humans, remember acts of violence and situations of terror. Even when our brains seem to have rationalized themselves into calmness, our bodies continue to carry the experiences forward. Thus, when we are reminded of the original situation — by a plume of smoke, a predatory glance, etc. — we are sent back into the spirals of fear that created these symptoms in the first place.
These symptoms can keep us safe, sometimes, but they can also interfere with our ability to be bold explorers of our worlds. So what can we do to cope? Here are some ideas:
- Engage with counseling, especially EMDR
- Use physically active techniques, in keeping with your level of ability, to help your body work through its symptoms
- Talk to other survivors, knowing that you each have your own experiences
- Accept your symptoms as being a natural part of the healing process
- Find a trauma-sensitive yoga or meditation class to re-connect with your body
- Write or draw a journal of your experiences
- Take time to focus on yourself and your own needs
Healing from trauma takes a lot of time and patience. It’s unpleasant and doesn’t happen overnight.But when you can recognize it, and nurture yourself in its aftermath, you can empower yourself to take on the world once again.
Friday, June 14, 2013
You Don't Get to Tell Me How to Forgive an Abuser
Emily's Note: The topic of abuse and forgiveness is a sensitive one for me, and it's a topic that recently arose in my personal life when a member of my extended family attempted to publicly shame me (and others in my family) for not maintaining contact with someone who abused us in the past. When I privately asked that individual not to make such statements, their response was that I was obligated as a Christian to forgive. And so, with this topic once again at the forefront of my mind, I decided it was time to explain why such advice is in fact damaging to victims and survivors.
For a victim or survivor of abuse, one of the most damaging things a person can say is, "You have to forgive your abuser."
If you're religious (as I am), my statement might sound sacrilegious. Even if you're not religious, you may want to encourage a survivor to forgive those who hurt them so that they can move on with their life and let go of that pain. And I don't disagree with you that letting go of that anger is one essential part of the healing process. But I'm not concerned with the message you're trying to share - I'm concerned about the way you're sharing it and the unintended consequences your statement may carry.
1 - Telling someone to forgive assumes that they are doing something wrong, and a survivor of abuse has been hearing that message for years.
For the context of what I'm going to discuss here, suffice it to say that I grew up in a home with an abusive father, and some (but not all) of his siblings reinforced the abuse by accusing me of causing it. I once came home to find one of his siblings in the kitchen, waiting for me, in order to lecture me on being a better daughter. When I went to the police in order to get a restraining order so that my family and I would be safe from him, his mother and some of his siblings accused me of lying, despite those individuals possessing knowledge of similar abuse which he perpetrated against others when he was younger. To put it lightly, my relationship with those particular family members has been strained ever since.
Research and anecdotal evidence suggest my experience is not at all unusual. I've heard first-hand and second-hand accounts of mothers who accused children of lying when they came forward about abuse or who even accused preteen daughters of seducing their stepfather after he sexually assaulted them. And I've read studies where alarmingly high percentages of survivors reported that the initial adults they confided in blamed them. I've posted about victim-blaming before, but I cannot over emphasize the damage that a culture of victim-blaming enacts on those who are abused. Victim-blaming leads to victims feeling so much shame that they hide what is happening, and it helps abusers evade prosecution. As a result, the abuser is likely to continue abusing.
2 - Telling someone to forgive faster interferes with their healing process.
Most survivors spend years sorting through their experience. For many survivors, even reaching a point where they can openly express anger toward those who hurt them is in fact a step in their recovery. They may have spent years convincing themselves that what an abuser did was okay, or even pretending it never happened. Acknowledging anger is essential in working through the repercussions of abuse. And acknowledging the abuser is necessary to eventually forgive. After all, how can you forgive someone if you never come to terms with the fact that they did, in fact, hurt you?
3 - Forgiveness is a process that is different for everyone.
Perhaps you were abused, and you forgave that person by restoring a close relationship. Perhaps you never stopped loving that person or considering them your father, your mother, your brother or sister. Perhaps you forgave them and let them back into your life, after they had stopped abusing you.
But it doesn't work that way for all of us. For some of us, no longer praying for an abuser to die in their sleep is forgiveness.
For many survivors, it is unsafe to maintain any sort of contact with an abuser. And I don't just mean physical safety - yes, that's a major concern. But if you think that's the only issue at stake, you won't understand when another survivor refuses to even be in the same room with their former abuser. For some of us, hearing an abuser's voice or seeing a photo of them alone is enough to give us nightmares for two weeks straight. Enough to trigger old fears and leave us vulnerable in ways to hurt our efforts to simply live our life.
4 - Forgiving does not require staying, and yet many victims convince themselves that it does.
For those victims, being told that they have to forgive just reinforces the old belief that they are obligated to accept the abuse, never fight back, and not try to leave. A victim who holds that belief is likely to feel guilty for resenting the abuse. And even if a survivor overcame that belief in order to leave, hearing you tell them that they have to forgive is likely to dredge up the shame they felt when they were abused.
Again, not helpful in their recovery process.
5 - It's simply not your place to say, and you may be saying it for the wrong reasons.
Forgiveness is a complicated process, and no other person has the right to look at a victim of abuse and assume that their approach to forgiveness is wrong. You may be telling your friend to forgive because you're worried about how their anger seems to eat them up, but you simply can't know enough about their situation to know that for a fact.
If you've given this advice to someone, you may also need to reevaluate your motives. You may have had nothing but good intentions, but you also may have been looking for a way to stop them from sharing an experience you were uncomfortable hearing. Perhaps you have been abused yourself, and hearing their experiences leaves you feeling raw about your own pain.
Perhaps you care about the abuser so much that you're afraid to admit the severity of what they did, so you're treating it like something minor enough that it could be forgiven quickly. Or perhaps you witnessed abuse and you feel guilty that you didn't protect the survivor. If any of these motives ring true for you, please do whatever it takes to work through it. Confide in friends, write in a journal, go to a counselor, pick up a hobby that helps channel that energy.
But please, don't try to tell other survivors how to forgive. Because it's probably hurting you as much as it's hurting them.
For a victim or survivor of abuse, one of the most damaging things a person can say is, "You have to forgive your abuser."
If you're religious (as I am), my statement might sound sacrilegious. Even if you're not religious, you may want to encourage a survivor to forgive those who hurt them so that they can move on with their life and let go of that pain. And I don't disagree with you that letting go of that anger is one essential part of the healing process. But I'm not concerned with the message you're trying to share - I'm concerned about the way you're sharing it and the unintended consequences your statement may carry.
1 - Telling someone to forgive assumes that they are doing something wrong, and a survivor of abuse has been hearing that message for years.
For the context of what I'm going to discuss here, suffice it to say that I grew up in a home with an abusive father, and some (but not all) of his siblings reinforced the abuse by accusing me of causing it. I once came home to find one of his siblings in the kitchen, waiting for me, in order to lecture me on being a better daughter. When I went to the police in order to get a restraining order so that my family and I would be safe from him, his mother and some of his siblings accused me of lying, despite those individuals possessing knowledge of similar abuse which he perpetrated against others when he was younger. To put it lightly, my relationship with those particular family members has been strained ever since.
Research and anecdotal evidence suggest my experience is not at all unusual. I've heard first-hand and second-hand accounts of mothers who accused children of lying when they came forward about abuse or who even accused preteen daughters of seducing their stepfather after he sexually assaulted them. And I've read studies where alarmingly high percentages of survivors reported that the initial adults they confided in blamed them. I've posted about victim-blaming before, but I cannot over emphasize the damage that a culture of victim-blaming enacts on those who are abused. Victim-blaming leads to victims feeling so much shame that they hide what is happening, and it helps abusers evade prosecution. As a result, the abuser is likely to continue abusing.
2 - Telling someone to forgive faster interferes with their healing process.
Most survivors spend years sorting through their experience. For many survivors, even reaching a point where they can openly express anger toward those who hurt them is in fact a step in their recovery. They may have spent years convincing themselves that what an abuser did was okay, or even pretending it never happened. Acknowledging anger is essential in working through the repercussions of abuse. And acknowledging the abuser is necessary to eventually forgive. After all, how can you forgive someone if you never come to terms with the fact that they did, in fact, hurt you?
3 - Forgiveness is a process that is different for everyone.
Perhaps you were abused, and you forgave that person by restoring a close relationship. Perhaps you never stopped loving that person or considering them your father, your mother, your brother or sister. Perhaps you forgave them and let them back into your life, after they had stopped abusing you.
But it doesn't work that way for all of us. For some of us, no longer praying for an abuser to die in their sleep is forgiveness.
For many survivors, it is unsafe to maintain any sort of contact with an abuser. And I don't just mean physical safety - yes, that's a major concern. But if you think that's the only issue at stake, you won't understand when another survivor refuses to even be in the same room with their former abuser. For some of us, hearing an abuser's voice or seeing a photo of them alone is enough to give us nightmares for two weeks straight. Enough to trigger old fears and leave us vulnerable in ways to hurt our efforts to simply live our life.
4 - Forgiving does not require staying, and yet many victims convince themselves that it does.
For those victims, being told that they have to forgive just reinforces the old belief that they are obligated to accept the abuse, never fight back, and not try to leave. A victim who holds that belief is likely to feel guilty for resenting the abuse. And even if a survivor overcame that belief in order to leave, hearing you tell them that they have to forgive is likely to dredge up the shame they felt when they were abused.
Again, not helpful in their recovery process.
5 - It's simply not your place to say, and you may be saying it for the wrong reasons.
Forgiveness is a complicated process, and no other person has the right to look at a victim of abuse and assume that their approach to forgiveness is wrong. You may be telling your friend to forgive because you're worried about how their anger seems to eat them up, but you simply can't know enough about their situation to know that for a fact.
If you've given this advice to someone, you may also need to reevaluate your motives. You may have had nothing but good intentions, but you also may have been looking for a way to stop them from sharing an experience you were uncomfortable hearing. Perhaps you have been abused yourself, and hearing their experiences leaves you feeling raw about your own pain.
Perhaps you care about the abuser so much that you're afraid to admit the severity of what they did, so you're treating it like something minor enough that it could be forgiven quickly. Or perhaps you witnessed abuse and you feel guilty that you didn't protect the survivor. If any of these motives ring true for you, please do whatever it takes to work through it. Confide in friends, write in a journal, go to a counselor, pick up a hobby that helps channel that energy.
But please, don't try to tell other survivors how to forgive. Because it's probably hurting you as much as it's hurting them.
Monday, June 10, 2013
That Kind of Girl (from the archives)
I originally published this post more than three years ago, in response to a conversation I'd had with a roommate and some friends. When this topic came up again in recent conversation, I decided to revisit my post from the time. As is usually the case for a writer, I found myself shuddering over the awkward phrasing and wondering how I could call myself a writing teacher back then. But alas, in the name of authenticity I have changed nothing from the original post.
The other night, some friends accused me of something I found so insulting that I instantly cried, "I am NOT that kind of a girl!" What had they accused me of? Cooking dinner for a man.
They were both shocked by how defensive I was on the issue, and as I tried to explain why that was a sensitive topic for me, and why I am uncomfortable with cooking dinner for men, they became even more confused. In the end, they criticized me for what they saw as inconsistent behavior, and they insisted that if I was ok with my roommate's brother coming over and fixing our kitchen sink, I was a hypocrite for refusing to cook dinner for a man.
And I, for my part, am still confused by their confusion. It's not like I'm anti cooking with a man on a date, or cooking for family and friends. I just refuse to prepare a meal, by myself, for a man I am on a casual date with, and I'm cautious about doing so with a boyfriend too. And I get really upset when people think I have done that very thing. A few years ago, I invited a guy I'd been on several dates with over to my apartment. I had baked bread earlier in the day, and I offered him some fresh bread and homemade jam. He later bragged to a mutual friend that I had baked bread for him, and she immediately corrected him. "That's my friend you're talking about," she said. She explained that I bake bread all the time and had probably just offered him some of the bread I'd already baked. "She is not that kind of a girl," my friend continued, "and don't you ever say that again." He promised her that if he asked me to bake some bread for him I'd do it in a heart beat. Needless to say, I didn't respond well when he asked.
Why am I so loathe to cooking food specifically for a man on a casual date? Well, I can't really explain it rationally. For some reason I just shudder at the thought of doing so. I picture a man sitting expectantly at the table, waiting for me to bring the food to him, a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. It doesn't help that my father usually did that when I was young, even though my mother worked (and he did not), or that there are a lot of men in my extended family who take the attitude that cooking and cleaning is a woman's job, even if both he and his wife are working equal hours outside the home.
And contrary to what my friends from the other night insisted my aversion to cooking for men must mean, it's not that I'm against people who are in a relationship or who are going on dates doing nice things for each other. I appreciate it when a man opens a door for me, and I love sharing the food that I cook or bake with other people, romantic interests included. If I'm in a relationship and I bake bread, I'll specifically bring some to the guy I'm dating. I'll leave nice notes for him to find, and do other little, spontaneous things. I'll unlock his car door after he's unlocked the passenger door and opened it for me. I'll grab extra napkins for him while we're grabbing food. I'll wear my hair a way I know he likes it, and humor him by playing board games or watching movies I'm not terribly fond of. Honestly, roommates who've seen me in a relationship have always been shocked by how often I'll bake something to share with a boyfriend.
So, maybe the issue here isn't that I'm unusually prickly about cooking for a man. Maybe I'm just prickly about the phrase "cook for him." Maybe it brings up images and emotions that upset me so much that even when I talk with other women who are a lot less likely to cook food with the intention of offering some to a boyfriend I end up sounding more anti it? And I become much more comfortable with the idea of cooking for a man if he first cooks for me. I got very upset when one man interpreted my invitation to a group date where we would all prepare dinner together as me offering to cook dinner for him (your words, Carl, not mine!) But when he later cooked breakfast for me, I felt much more comfortable the next time he thought I was "cooking dinner for him."
But what's really crazy about that last example, is that his idea of me cooking dinner for him was me buying the ingredients, and then him making it along with me. Which brings us back to language - am I against going through the physical act of cooking dinner for a man, or am I against some sort of cultural association I have with that language?
The other night, some friends accused me of something I found so insulting that I instantly cried, "I am NOT that kind of a girl!" What had they accused me of? Cooking dinner for a man.
They were both shocked by how defensive I was on the issue, and as I tried to explain why that was a sensitive topic for me, and why I am uncomfortable with cooking dinner for men, they became even more confused. In the end, they criticized me for what they saw as inconsistent behavior, and they insisted that if I was ok with my roommate's brother coming over and fixing our kitchen sink, I was a hypocrite for refusing to cook dinner for a man.
And I, for my part, am still confused by their confusion. It's not like I'm anti cooking with a man on a date, or cooking for family and friends. I just refuse to prepare a meal, by myself, for a man I am on a casual date with, and I'm cautious about doing so with a boyfriend too. And I get really upset when people think I have done that very thing. A few years ago, I invited a guy I'd been on several dates with over to my apartment. I had baked bread earlier in the day, and I offered him some fresh bread and homemade jam. He later bragged to a mutual friend that I had baked bread for him, and she immediately corrected him. "That's my friend you're talking about," she said. She explained that I bake bread all the time and had probably just offered him some of the bread I'd already baked. "She is not that kind of a girl," my friend continued, "and don't you ever say that again." He promised her that if he asked me to bake some bread for him I'd do it in a heart beat. Needless to say, I didn't respond well when he asked.
Why am I so loathe to cooking food specifically for a man on a casual date? Well, I can't really explain it rationally. For some reason I just shudder at the thought of doing so. I picture a man sitting expectantly at the table, waiting for me to bring the food to him, a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. It doesn't help that my father usually did that when I was young, even though my mother worked (and he did not), or that there are a lot of men in my extended family who take the attitude that cooking and cleaning is a woman's job, even if both he and his wife are working equal hours outside the home.
And contrary to what my friends from the other night insisted my aversion to cooking for men must mean, it's not that I'm against people who are in a relationship or who are going on dates doing nice things for each other. I appreciate it when a man opens a door for me, and I love sharing the food that I cook or bake with other people, romantic interests included. If I'm in a relationship and I bake bread, I'll specifically bring some to the guy I'm dating. I'll leave nice notes for him to find, and do other little, spontaneous things. I'll unlock his car door after he's unlocked the passenger door and opened it for me. I'll grab extra napkins for him while we're grabbing food. I'll wear my hair a way I know he likes it, and humor him by playing board games or watching movies I'm not terribly fond of. Honestly, roommates who've seen me in a relationship have always been shocked by how often I'll bake something to share with a boyfriend.
So, maybe the issue here isn't that I'm unusually prickly about cooking for a man. Maybe I'm just prickly about the phrase "cook for him." Maybe it brings up images and emotions that upset me so much that even when I talk with other women who are a lot less likely to cook food with the intention of offering some to a boyfriend I end up sounding more anti it? And I become much more comfortable with the idea of cooking for a man if he first cooks for me. I got very upset when one man interpreted my invitation to a group date where we would all prepare dinner together as me offering to cook dinner for him (your words, Carl, not mine!) But when he later cooked breakfast for me, I felt much more comfortable the next time he thought I was "cooking dinner for him."
But what's really crazy about that last example, is that his idea of me cooking dinner for him was me buying the ingredients, and then him making it along with me. Which brings us back to language - am I against going through the physical act of cooking dinner for a man, or am I against some sort of cultural association I have with that language?
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Murdering John Walks Free, Mothers and Daughters Sharing a Husband, SLC Pride Parade, and More: Links of Note
It's no secret that Erica, Rachel, and I have been a tad absentee recently, due to our work (and in my case, grad school) obligations, so instead of trying to catch up I'll just cover a few recent things.
First off, in our distraction we haven't been checking the notanotherwave email account as frequently as we used to. Several months back, someone contacted us in response to a post about attachment parenting and asked if we'd be interested in their graphic about helicopter parents in the workplace. Not the most obvious fit on NAW, but I figured we'd give it a shout out, as readers might find it interesting, and since she was gracious about my delayed response.
Next, this article about a Texas man who got away with murdering an escort has been making the rounds on facebook. Long story short, he hired an escort through craigslist and paid her $150 in advance. When she didn't have sex with him as he'd expected and tried to leave, he shot her in the neck, paralyzing her and causing her death seven months later. His attorneys argued that the victim was stealing from this man and that he therefore had the legal right to shoot and kill her. The jury somehow agreed, despite the fact that her "theft" was in refusing to follow through with prostitution, which is itself a crime. I don't even have words for how disgusting it is that this man was found "not guilty" and that he isn't at least being charged with soliciting a prostitute. The irony is that if he'd pulled a gun on her and she'd shot him in self-defense, she'd probably be serving life in prison.
From a few weeks back, Twisty of the radical feminist blog, I Blame the Patriarchy, recently posted her thoughts on how rape is portrayed on tv and whether those portrayals are inherently misogynistic.
Next, an article on an unusual and rare marital practice from a remote region of Bangladesh that a friend of mine aptly summed up as "both heartbreaking and fascinating." The title of this Observer article is "'My Mother and I are Married to the Same Man': Matrilineal Marriage in Bangladesh," and the details are worth reading in full, so I'll let that title act as the basic summary I usually give along with a link.
In news that I find exciting, the group Mormons Building Bridges marched in a Salt Lake City pride parade this past Sunday. I knew about the parade in advance and was sad I couldn't make it, as I'm very supportive of the work MBB has been doing. Last year they marched in the pride parade, and this year they built on that work with the theme "Family Reunion," to encourage other Mormons to fully accept and love their lgbtq friends and family.
And lastly, on a fun note, I'll confess that I follow The Voice. The Voice sometimes infuriates me, mostly in their habit of starting off with about half of their contestants being people of color, only to systematically eliminate the majority of contestants who are not white in the battle rounds. (Don't believe me? Watch the battles where one contestant is white and the other isn't. In all but one, the white performer was declared the winner). Anyway, despite all that, I've been impressed by Michelle Chamuel, one of the top artists in the current Top 5. Chamuel is talented, confident and charismatic onstage, and intelligent, confident, and gracious off-stage. In the following interview she discusses her wardrobe and makeup decisions in a way that sheds light on the creative process while also stressing her confidence in maintaining an appearance that feels organic and comfortable to her:
I'm pretty sure I've got a girl-crush on Michelle Chamuel.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
The Croods: Surprisingly and Refreshingly Feminist-Friendly (Guest Post)
This review is a guest post by Bailie.
The Croods is DreamWorks Animation’s latest film,
released March 22, 2013. It follows the story of cavegirl Eep and her family,
the Croods, who find themselves without a home and wandering through new and
colourful lands while on the run from geological events that promise the end of
their world. The film is charming on multiple levels, and adults and children
alike will really enjoy this film’s quirky humor, family values, and stunning
visuals. However, what is really interesting about this movie are its feminist
messages.
Brave (Disney-Pixar), another cgi kid-flick
with a female protagonist, got a great deal of media attention for its
feminist messages, both positive and negative. Its decision to have a Princess
that didn’t have a romantic interest was the one that garnered the most
attention, but it also stood out against other Disney films by having the
mother play a large part. The feminist messages for Brave are very
predictable. She’s tough, she’s capable, she must battle the patriarchy and
prove herself worthy! Now, she spends most the film being a real tomboy,
rebelling against femininity, but in the end can see that her mother, even with
her embrace of all things girly, is still a force to be reckoned with. This is
actually quite good, as many people trying to appeal to feminists often force
the character away from ‘girly’ things, essentially turning the characters into
men, or belittling the ones who are happily performing their traditional gender
roles. In this respect, Brave does very well, but it falls behind on
the male characters. They’re really only there to provide conflict and humor.
Now The
Croods is deceptively
similar to Brave. It’s about a willful teen girl who
wants more from life than her parents offer her, and the end moral of the story
is to love, look after, and respect your family. Comparing the two, it looks
like Merida has a lot on Eep when it comes to pro-feminist messages. Eep spends
a good portion of the film fawning over a guy, while Merida don’t need no man
-snap snap-. Merida
hates having to wear the latest fashions; Eep screams in delight at the
discovery of shoes. But while Brave shoves its messages down your throat, The Croods is more subtle.
Eep is tough as nails. She’s from a
family of cavemen, it’s in the genes. But even considering that, she’s tougher
than usual. She’s capable, solid, and generally reliable, unless her curiosity
for the world around her overpowers her. Her Dad is big tough guy who uses his
considerable strength to literally carry his family, protecting them with
everything he’s got, but while he’s got the claim on being biggest and baddest,
he bows to his wife. But she’s not the type to browbeat or nag, she respects
and supports him as he does her, and their relationship is one of give and
take, and equality. Gran and baby Sandy hold their own as well as the rest of
the family, and it’s never assumed they are incapable of anything. The only
other male in the family, Thunk, isn’t pushed to the sidelines - he’s right up
front with the rest of the gang, and even though he comes off as slightly
weaker, with more nervousness and less brains than his sister, it’s not really
a downplay of his character, or a boosting of hers; rather, he is an example of
what Eep would be like if she had taken their father’s messages of doom and
destruction to heart. Thunk is not an idiot, he’s just very trusting, and
throughout the film he loses a lot of his timidness entirely by his own
efforts.
The biggest test for this film was the
introduction of Guy, a teen male from outside the family who has evolved a bit
more than the Croods. Eep and Guy’s interactions are beautifully thought out,
and refreshing. So often in films we see the same formula; Mr Tough
and Dumb falls for Ms Smart and Pretty, or Ms Gorgeous Idiot falls for Mr Weak
but Brainy. We oh so often see the beautiful women fall in love with the
unattractive man, but the opposite is very rare. And if we do, then it’s either
played for a laugh, or she goes through some sort of amazing makeover where
she’s suddenly super attractive. The
Croods is different because
Eek is an incredibly physically tough lady who does not possess generically
‘pretty’ features, with her beefy arms, non-existent forehead, and frizzy hair,
and she falls in love and actively pursues a boy who is generically attractive, and super smart to boot. Her
methods of getting his attention are played for laughs, but not her attraction, and more importantly, neither is his returned
attraction. The best part is that neither of them change. Eep doesn’t get a
makeover, and Guy doesn’t become manly and muscular. They love each other
because of who they are, no makeover montage necessary.
The genius of this movie in regards to its
feminist messages comes down to this: Eep is not a "strong female character." She’s just a good protagonist. If you can swap the genders of the main
characters and not have anything taken away from the story and love everyone
just as much, then you’ve got a winner. Eep just happens to be female, and
unlike in Brave, it’s never even thought of or brought
up as a flaw. She’s not allowed to hunt for while, not because she’s a girl,
but because she’s grounded, which is a huge thing, because it implies that it’s
something that she enjoys, and she’s not thought of as weird or wrong for that
enjoyment. But neither is she weird for being flirty and giggly. She also eats
with a ferocious gusto, very unlike Guy, who nibbles daintily at his food, and
in that instance, it’s Guy you laugh at, not Eep.
So not only is this one of the funniest
and most entertaining movies you’ll see this year - it’s also one of the best for
breaking down gender stereotyping, and hopefully it will get the respect and
praise it deserves.
Bailie is a part-time student, part-time graphic designer, and full-time feminist. She spends any free time either at the cinema or home catching up on tv shows.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Rape Culture Among Feminists
Recently the term "rape culture" has made its rounds in popular culture, with many reporters and bloggers complaining about the victim-blaming, perpetrator-excusing behavior of major news networks. But rape culture is more pervasive than most of us want to admit. (Note: I'm about to go on a rant. Feel free to skip to the paragraph that starts "last night").
Because reporters aren't the only ones who tend to side with the perpetrators. After all, as many trauma theorists have pointed out, victims ask a whole lot more than perpetrators do. Victims ask us to listen to their accounts, to believe what they're saying is true, to stop it from happening, to protect them, and even to take responsibility for any part we played in their abuse, as complicit bystanders. At least, that's what victims would be asking if rape culture didn't shame them into silence.
What do perpetrators ask us to do? Nothing. That's right, nothing. They don't have to ask us for anything, because they already have power over their victims. And as long as we do nothing, they can keep victimizing people, and we can continue living our lives as viewed through rose-tinted glasses. We can continue believing that the only real perpetrators out there are people who look spooky and scary and whom we would never befriend. And when a victim or survivor tells us that they were abused by someone we know and like, we can assume they were lying, but then go turn on the news and pat ourselves on the back for getting angry at the true rapists out there, who fit our narrow definition.
I'm used to rape culture. I see it all the time in friends, family, and associates. I see it when people assume men can't be raped, or when a group of male scholars performs exhaustive research to determine what factors make women most likely to become victims of sexual assault and presents it as a checklist on how women can avoid being raped. And then the presenter is surprised by my frustration.
But I'm not used to seeing it among other feminists. Maybe I haven't been paying close enough attention before now.
My preamble has gone on a bit long, I know, so I'll get to the story that has me so upset.
Last night, a member of a feminist group I belong to on facebook posted an article about a 17-year-old woman who came forward and testified that a former teacher and coach had been sexually assaulting her for the past couple years. The perpetrator is now 33, but the woman was just 14 when the then-30-year-old man first began courting her, so to say.
When she was 15 he kissed her, and by the victim's own account, she felt helpless after that day and felt incapable of saying no when he pressured her to have sex with him, as he suggested he would withdraw his love otherwise, and as he told her that she would be worthless and have no future if she ended things. Apparently learning that an LDS woman would now be eligible to serve a mission at the age of 19 (formerly 21) gave the victim a reason to hope and the courage to seek aid.
Fortunately, those she turned to actually believed her, and a judge agreed to bring the case to trial.
And yet, horrifying to me, at least half of the responses from members of this feminist group where the link was shared responded by questioning the victim's accountability in the situation and questioning whether she was a victim at all. Because it is a closed group, it would be unethical for me to share names or exact words, but here's a summary of the arguments that were made:
- Some 17-year-old women want to have sex, so she probably did; the only difference is she had sex with an adult, not a teenager.
- The fact that she ended things now shows she always had the power to end it, so she can't be a victim.
- She may have committed sexual sins that she'll need to repent of, so she's probably accountable for at least some of what happened.
- It sounds like she consented at the time, but now she's regretting it.
Bull. Shit.
When I responded that these statements were forms of victim-blaming and that I expected better on a feminist group, one person responded that she was merely being technical, while I was responding emotionally.
So, let me explain, in technical detail, why this is sexual assault.
1. A minor cannot legally consent to sex with a 33-year-old man. Sexual assault is not merely the presence of a "no," but the absence of consent.
2. Statutory rape is rape-rape, no matter what Whoopi thinks to the contrary.
3. This relationship went on for three years. That means a then-30-year-old man initiated a personal, emotionally intimate relationship with a 14-year-old girl. And took advantage of it a year later, when he first kissed her and began making sexual advances on a 15-year-old.
4. Courting a person in preparation for sexually assaulting them is known as grooming a victim. It is also a crime, and it makes it that much harder for a victim to leave or resist.
5. The now-17-year-old survivor of this abuse identifies it as sexual assault and describes how her perpetrator groomed, assaulted, manipulated, and threatened her. She identifies it as abuse. She says she did not consent. Based on her testimony and whatever evidence her lawyer presented, a judge saw at least enough evidence to take the case to trial.
And so, all my feminist friends out there, we need to be on our guard against rape culture from within. That's how prevalent rape culture really is.
Because reporters aren't the only ones who tend to side with the perpetrators. After all, as many trauma theorists have pointed out, victims ask a whole lot more than perpetrators do. Victims ask us to listen to their accounts, to believe what they're saying is true, to stop it from happening, to protect them, and even to take responsibility for any part we played in their abuse, as complicit bystanders. At least, that's what victims would be asking if rape culture didn't shame them into silence.
What do perpetrators ask us to do? Nothing. That's right, nothing. They don't have to ask us for anything, because they already have power over their victims. And as long as we do nothing, they can keep victimizing people, and we can continue living our lives as viewed through rose-tinted glasses. We can continue believing that the only real perpetrators out there are people who look spooky and scary and whom we would never befriend. And when a victim or survivor tells us that they were abused by someone we know and like, we can assume they were lying, but then go turn on the news and pat ourselves on the back for getting angry at the true rapists out there, who fit our narrow definition.
I'm used to rape culture. I see it all the time in friends, family, and associates. I see it when people assume men can't be raped, or when a group of male scholars performs exhaustive research to determine what factors make women most likely to become victims of sexual assault and presents it as a checklist on how women can avoid being raped. And then the presenter is surprised by my frustration.
But I'm not used to seeing it among other feminists. Maybe I haven't been paying close enough attention before now.
My preamble has gone on a bit long, I know, so I'll get to the story that has me so upset.
Last night, a member of a feminist group I belong to on facebook posted an article about a 17-year-old woman who came forward and testified that a former teacher and coach had been sexually assaulting her for the past couple years. The perpetrator is now 33, but the woman was just 14 when the then-30-year-old man first began courting her, so to say.
When she was 15 he kissed her, and by the victim's own account, she felt helpless after that day and felt incapable of saying no when he pressured her to have sex with him, as he suggested he would withdraw his love otherwise, and as he told her that she would be worthless and have no future if she ended things. Apparently learning that an LDS woman would now be eligible to serve a mission at the age of 19 (formerly 21) gave the victim a reason to hope and the courage to seek aid.
Fortunately, those she turned to actually believed her, and a judge agreed to bring the case to trial.
And yet, horrifying to me, at least half of the responses from members of this feminist group where the link was shared responded by questioning the victim's accountability in the situation and questioning whether she was a victim at all. Because it is a closed group, it would be unethical for me to share names or exact words, but here's a summary of the arguments that were made:
- Some 17-year-old women want to have sex, so she probably did; the only difference is she had sex with an adult, not a teenager.
- The fact that she ended things now shows she always had the power to end it, so she can't be a victim.
- She may have committed sexual sins that she'll need to repent of, so she's probably accountable for at least some of what happened.
- It sounds like she consented at the time, but now she's regretting it.
Bull. Shit.
When I responded that these statements were forms of victim-blaming and that I expected better on a feminist group, one person responded that she was merely being technical, while I was responding emotionally.
So, let me explain, in technical detail, why this is sexual assault.
1. A minor cannot legally consent to sex with a 33-year-old man. Sexual assault is not merely the presence of a "no," but the absence of consent.
2. Statutory rape is rape-rape, no matter what Whoopi thinks to the contrary.
3. This relationship went on for three years. That means a then-30-year-old man initiated a personal, emotionally intimate relationship with a 14-year-old girl. And took advantage of it a year later, when he first kissed her and began making sexual advances on a 15-year-old.
4. Courting a person in preparation for sexually assaulting them is known as grooming a victim. It is also a crime, and it makes it that much harder for a victim to leave or resist.
5. The now-17-year-old survivor of this abuse identifies it as sexual assault and describes how her perpetrator groomed, assaulted, manipulated, and threatened her. She identifies it as abuse. She says she did not consent. Based on her testimony and whatever evidence her lawyer presented, a judge saw at least enough evidence to take the case to trial.
And so, all my feminist friends out there, we need to be on our guard against rape culture from within. That's how prevalent rape culture really is.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Is a Terrorist Evil?
With Friday's arrest of one suspected marathon bomber and the death of the other, his older brother, I think anyone with connections to Boston is feeling some strong emotions. As a native New Englander, I'm feeling about as strongly as anyone outside of the Boston region. I have friends in the city, one of whom was two blocks away at the time of the explosion, and just a month ago I was in Boston for a conference. I road a bus past the site where the explosions went off several times while I was there. To New Englanders, Boston is our home city, the only real city in all of New England.
So the attacks literally hit close to home.
So I understand why my fellow Americans are angry at the arrested suspect - and I will refer to him as a suspect out of my respect for the US court system which considers a person innocent until proven guilty in court, though it's hard to imagine any reasonable doubt as to his guilt, after the shooting spree in which he and his brother killed one police officer and wounded another. And like my fellow Americans, I'm relieved to simply have a face and a name to hold responsible for the tragedy in Boston. During the first few days following the attack, when there didn't seem to be any clear leads, I felt just as overwhelmed and lost. I knew there would be evidence and that the FBI would track down the guilty parties, but until they did, the violent act felt all the more frightening because of the mystery.
But amidst all the relieved reactions to Tsarnaev's arrest, I'm seeing a troubling trend. Sure, most people I know are hoping for justice in court and are recognizing that the younger brother is an American citizen, unlike his deceased older brother. But even among those I respect and love and care about, a few make a quick and angry move to label Tsarnaev as "evil."
But is Tsarnaev evil?
Is this 19-year-old man evil?
I don't want to fall into the mistake that reporters did when they covered the Steubenville case, so I won't bemoan the opportunities these two men gave up in their own lives or complain if Tsarnaev is convicted, rather than considering the long-term impact on victims and survivors of the attacks in which he participated.
But is he evil?
I doubt it. I sincerely doubt that this young man is pure evil. I even doubt that his older brother, who was by all reports the likely instigator here, was evil. What they did was wrong, heinous, and tragic, but here's why we can't label these two men as evil:
When we label individuals or groups as evil, we cease to see them as people. If you ascribe to a faith like mine, we forget that they are children of God with divine potential. Driven by revenge, we suddenly want to see them suffer for their crimes, and who can blame us for making them suffer if they're evil?
So, does Tsarnaev deserve to suffer?
Perhaps. But I'll tell you the kind of suffering I want him to experience - I want him to some day look in his God's face and watch as his God weeps in sorrow and disappointment over his actions from this week. I want him to recognize that what he did was truly wrong and horrendous and that the forces he believes supported those actions in fact condemn those actions. Because Tsarnaev is still a human. And both Tsarnaevs probably believed they had excellent reasons for doing what they did. .
Perhaps these brothers even believed they were avenging a specific act of violence perpetrated by the US government against people they loved and cared about. Even as a US citizen, perhaps Tsarnaev wanted other Americans to suffer as those he cared about had suffered. Perhaps he believed we were evil. That his victims deserved to feel pain.
Just try something with me for a second. I want you to think of the most pain you have ever experienced. If that's too strong of a trigger for you, then by all means don't! But if you can, think back to a time after a surgery, or in childbirth, or when you broke your leg as a kid. Think about that pain and how you felt at the time - that's what pain feels like to everyone.
That's what pain feels like to a murderer.
That's what pain feels like to a rapist.
That's what pain feels like to anyone, no matter the terrible things they've done.
It doesn't feel like justice. It doesn't correct them or fix them. And I can guarantee you it does not convince others who associate with the same terrorist organizations to not commit similar crimes. If anything, it's going to persuade the remaining members of that organization that the people they're waging war against are as evil - as un-human - as they believed when they planned the first attack.
So yes, press for legal justice against Tsarnaev. But not on the basis that he deserves to suffer. He might deserve that, but it won't do any good to anyone. The reason he needs to be in prison and needs to be tried is because if he truly is guilty (as he very well seems to be) he cannot be on the streets. He cannot be trusted, ever again for the rest of his life, to be free. He is a fellow human, a fellow American, who has surrendered that right.
So the attacks literally hit close to home.
So I understand why my fellow Americans are angry at the arrested suspect - and I will refer to him as a suspect out of my respect for the US court system which considers a person innocent until proven guilty in court, though it's hard to imagine any reasonable doubt as to his guilt, after the shooting spree in which he and his brother killed one police officer and wounded another. And like my fellow Americans, I'm relieved to simply have a face and a name to hold responsible for the tragedy in Boston. During the first few days following the attack, when there didn't seem to be any clear leads, I felt just as overwhelmed and lost. I knew there would be evidence and that the FBI would track down the guilty parties, but until they did, the violent act felt all the more frightening because of the mystery.
But amidst all the relieved reactions to Tsarnaev's arrest, I'm seeing a troubling trend. Sure, most people I know are hoping for justice in court and are recognizing that the younger brother is an American citizen, unlike his deceased older brother. But even among those I respect and love and care about, a few make a quick and angry move to label Tsarnaev as "evil."
But is Tsarnaev evil?
Is this 19-year-old man evil?
I don't want to fall into the mistake that reporters did when they covered the Steubenville case, so I won't bemoan the opportunities these two men gave up in their own lives or complain if Tsarnaev is convicted, rather than considering the long-term impact on victims and survivors of the attacks in which he participated.
But is he evil?
I doubt it. I sincerely doubt that this young man is pure evil. I even doubt that his older brother, who was by all reports the likely instigator here, was evil. What they did was wrong, heinous, and tragic, but here's why we can't label these two men as evil:
When we label individuals or groups as evil, we cease to see them as people. If you ascribe to a faith like mine, we forget that they are children of God with divine potential. Driven by revenge, we suddenly want to see them suffer for their crimes, and who can blame us for making them suffer if they're evil?
So, does Tsarnaev deserve to suffer?
Perhaps. But I'll tell you the kind of suffering I want him to experience - I want him to some day look in his God's face and watch as his God weeps in sorrow and disappointment over his actions from this week. I want him to recognize that what he did was truly wrong and horrendous and that the forces he believes supported those actions in fact condemn those actions. Because Tsarnaev is still a human. And both Tsarnaevs probably believed they had excellent reasons for doing what they did. .
Perhaps these brothers even believed they were avenging a specific act of violence perpetrated by the US government against people they loved and cared about. Even as a US citizen, perhaps Tsarnaev wanted other Americans to suffer as those he cared about had suffered. Perhaps he believed we were evil. That his victims deserved to feel pain.
Just try something with me for a second. I want you to think of the most pain you have ever experienced. If that's too strong of a trigger for you, then by all means don't! But if you can, think back to a time after a surgery, or in childbirth, or when you broke your leg as a kid. Think about that pain and how you felt at the time - that's what pain feels like to everyone.
That's what pain feels like to a murderer.
That's what pain feels like to a rapist.
That's what pain feels like to anyone, no matter the terrible things they've done.
It doesn't feel like justice. It doesn't correct them or fix them. And I can guarantee you it does not convince others who associate with the same terrorist organizations to not commit similar crimes. If anything, it's going to persuade the remaining members of that organization that the people they're waging war against are as evil - as un-human - as they believed when they planned the first attack.
So yes, press for legal justice against Tsarnaev. But not on the basis that he deserves to suffer. He might deserve that, but it won't do any good to anyone. The reason he needs to be in prison and needs to be tried is because if he truly is guilty (as he very well seems to be) he cannot be on the streets. He cannot be trusted, ever again for the rest of his life, to be free. He is a fellow human, a fellow American, who has surrendered that right.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Preventing Rape, Bipartisan Support for Immigration Reform and Same-sex Marriage, Jezebel's Flick-off to the Pope, and Twilight Feminism? Emily's Spring Break Catch-up
Well, it's been a month again, so let's play some Spring Break catch-up. Here's a list of interesting links:
First up, Stephanie Meyer has caused some waves by identifying herself as a feminist in a recent article on The Guardian. Says Meyers:
"I think there are many feminists who would say that I am not a feminist. But, to me ... I love women, I have a lot of girlfriends, I admire them, they make so much more sense to me than men, and I feel like the world is a better place when women are in charge. So that kind of by default makes me a feminist. I love working in a female world."
Can't say I'm a fan of any version of feminism that's defined by thinking "girlfriends... make so much more sense to me than men" and where Bella is the version of a woman "in charge" (whose boyfriend completely controls her...). But hey, maybe Ms. Meyer will have a change of heart in how she views relationships and eventually come to see why Edward's behavior is disconcerting. Dare I hope for a feminist-friendly rewrite 20 years from now? You know it would sell...
Next up, Utah has been surprising in the news recently, with support for same-sex marriage coming from an amicus brief that was authored in Utah and which includes support from 25 advocacy groups that are located in red states. The article I've linked is Joanna Brooks's coverage - Brooks is a Mormon who actively opposed Prop 8, despite general Mormon support for the proposition. Personally, I'm still relieved that as a Mormon who has never lived in California I was never asked to support the proposition, so I don't pass judgment either way on Mormons who did or didn't support prop 8. In a similar vein, Jon Huntsman recently offered his support for same-sex marriage and argued that it's actually a conservative cause to include same-sex couples in government-recognized marriage.
Meanwhile, Obama has praised Utah's immigration reform and is pointing to the firmly-red-state's progressive stance as evidence that Americans can hope for bipartisan work in producing much-needed immigration reform. To quote a Salt Lake Tribune article on the topic,
"A bipartisan group of civic and religious leaders, including two former governors, drafted the Utah Compact in 2010 in reaction to a wave of state-based attempts to crack down on illegal immigration.
"It comprises five principles, including that the issue must be dealt with in Congress and that the community should use a "humane approach" toward immigrants, legal or illegal, and strive to keep families together."
With the Catholic Church's recent change in leadership, Lindy west at Jezebel has published a controversial article entitled "F*** the Pope" (I'm censoring in case any of our more conservative readers have kids near the computer screen). Despite the sensational choice of title (doubtless intended to offend), the article raises several interesting ideas. For one, West points out that people across the world have put an intense amount of energy into discussing one pope's retirement and the next pope's selection - why good might we do if we redirected that amount of energy into discussing some of the Church's current policies? she asks. West also points out some troubling stances The Vatican has taken in recent history on issues that impact violence against women and the spread of HIV in Africa. At the same time, I'm troubled by West referring to the Catholic Church as a "corporation," a claim that I'm sensitive to as a Mormon.
Referring to any religion as a corporation and not a religion is a strong claim that carries some serious potential consequences. If it's not really a church but a business, the reasoning holds, then its tax-exempt status should be removed. The problem with that stance is that when only a few religions are targeted with those claims (and remember, the Mormon Church is one of very few international religions where the clergy aren't even paid, and the Catholic and Mormon Churches are both world-renowned for their service work) - when specific religions are targeted with that claim (a claim that's dangerously close to antisemitic stereotypes of Jewish people controlling money), we risk religious intolerance. As members of a country that has a history of persecuting both Mormons and Catholics, we Americans should be particularly cautious about making that claim against religious groups that fall outside of Protestantism. Note how much less likely we are to make those claims about Protestantism. We Americans have a bias in favor of Protestant churches.
Anyhow, getting off my soap box for a minute, Kristen Bell, an actress many feminists love for her work with the TV series Veronica Mars, has made news again for her role in a record-breaking Kickstarter movie campaign. The campaign, created by writer Rob Thomas, features a short video in which Bell and other stars from the series discuss how much they'd like to create a Veronica Mars movie. After studio executives agreed to produce a film as long as the group could demonstrate that fan interest would be strong, Thomas created the kickstarter campaign, with a lofty goal to receive 2 million in pledges, within just 30 days. Within 11 hours, the goal was met, setting a record for the fastest-raised million on kickstarter (I assume the fastest-raised 2 million, too). Last I checked, the raised amount was close to 4 million, and we're still only 3 days in. Let's hope Joss Whedon is playing close attention.
And lastly, because I think it's important and thus deserving of some emphasis, Zerlina Maxwell has published an article on ebony.com in which she suggests 5 concrete ways that we (meaning people in general, but perhaps parents specifically) can prevent rape. Maxwell argues that if we continue to make rape prevention a woman's responsibility things will never improve. Instead, she argues, we need to fight rape culture by teaching teenage boys to see women as people, not objects; how to understand consent (hint: rape is the absence of consent, not just the presence of "no."); how to express healthy masculinity; and the importance of validating victims who come forward; as well as the responsibility to intervene as a bystander. The comments are less inspiring than the article, so read them at risk to your gag reflex.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
My Day Wearing the Hijab: Guest Post from Laura
The following post originally appeared on Laughin
Lalo.
As a devout, practicing Mormon the idea of wearing a hijab is somewhat strange. I originally heard of the idea on FMH ( a Mormon feminist group on facebook) and I instantly was hooked on the idea.
Muslim women
challenged non-muslim women to try wearing a hijab for one day and then talk
about our experience. My thoughts were "are we allowed" and
"what will people think" many of you know me quite well and I hate to
admit it, but I really do care what other people think of me! But I signed up
and took pictures and really lived the day and was much more observant of those
around me. It took a lot of courage for me to do this, I was scared, excited,
and a little apprehensive of the reaction in my mostly mormon community here in
Utah .
First what is a
hijab?! It's the scarf muslim women wear for modesty, there are literally
hundreds of styles and fabrics to wear. They are absolutely GORGEOUS!
Muslim women aren't
forced to wear the hijab, it's a choice they make for Allah (God) to be modest
for him. In some ways it's very similar to the garments we mormons wear for
modesty and a reminder of our love for God.
I looked up tons of
videos on how to tie a hijab, and what to wear. I didn't have a bonnet so I
fashioned one out of black fabric, and then tied my hijab!
I was very modest,
I made sure to wear a long sleeve black lose shirt with jeans.
Then I took off to
school!
The day was interesting, I got a lot of stares from men mostly in trucks or passing in traffic. When I arrived at school I took a very awkward elevator ride with a gentleman who literally stared at me the whole time. More like in awe that he is actually seeing a muslim woman (but he wasn't haha) I went to class and some people were a little startled (my class is of 250 people so I definitely could blend) but people sat next to me and didn't shy away. After class I walked down the hallway to the elevator and some people walked away from me and some walked too close almost brushing me while there was tons of room on either side (I assume they were proving to me they weren't scared or whatever). People in shops were wonderful, they were nice and I didn't feel discriminated.
I felt completely empowered
by my appearance, I felt feminine and beautiful completely covered up and I
felt like I was respecting myself. It was a really beautiful experience and I'm
glad I stepped out of my comfort zone and participated. I understand so much
more about the muslim religion and the women who wear the hijab.
As a woman who wears
modest clothing in general (for my religion) I don't think I'll ever second
guess my modesty again because of the beauty I felt with in myself that day. I
won't feel like I have to spill out of my blouse in order to get attention from
anyone including my husband.
As for my husband
Andrew, he was all for it! He loved that I was getting out of my comfort zone
and educating myself. I appreciate his support, I'm a lucky gal!
Laura is a student, artist and blogger who lives in
Monday, February 4, 2013
Call for Reviews for Bitch Flicks
From our friends at Bitch Flicks:
February 1st marked the start of Black History Month. So for this month's theme week, we thought it was the perfect time to highlight all women of color in film and television.
The Color Purple
Dreamgirls
Scandal
Middle of Nowhere
Frida
Pariah
What's Love Got to Do with It?
The Cosby Show
Precious
Lady Sings the Blues
Daughters of the Dust
Selena
Night Catches Us
Grey's Anatomy
Real Women Have Curves
Eve's Bayou
Mi Vida Loca
Do the Right Thing
Columbiana
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
Bend It Like Beckham
Good Times
Crash
Sparkle
Watermelon Woman
American Family
A Different World
I Like It Like That
The Help
For Colored Girls
Jumping the Broom
Soul Food
Maria Full of Grace
Girlfriends
Half and Half
Love and Basketball
Brown Sugar
Ugly Betty
The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl
The Wire
Email us at btchflcks(at)gmail(dot)com if you'd like to contribute a review. We accept original pieces or cross-posts. We look forward to reading your submissions!
February 1st marked the start of Black History Month. So for this month's theme week, we thought it was the perfect time to highlight all women of color in film and television.
Here at Bitch Flicks, we often discuss the lack of female filmmakers and the need for women-centric films. We need more women directors, writers and protagonists. But we desperately need more women of color in front of and behind the camera. When studies on women in media are conducted, the numbers typically don't take into account the number of women of color. Out of the top 250 grossing films, women as a whole only comprise 9% of directors and 15% of writers and 33% of speaking roles. On TV in 2011, 15% of writers were women, women directed only 11% of TV episodes whilewomen of color only directed 1% (yep, you read that right...1%). Abysmal.
Sadly, film and TV often relegates women of color to racist and sexist tropes. Black women often appear on-screen as maids, hyper-sexual or the "sassy" sidekick. Latina women also appear as maids and with "fiery" tempers. It's time to end these stereotypes. While women filmmakers don’t merely depict female protagonists, when more women are behind the camera, we tend to see more women in front of the camera. When we have more women of color as writers, directors and producers, we'll also see more diverse representations of women of color on-screen.
When people talk about the need for more women in media, they often mean white women. When we talk about the need for more women on-screen and more women-created media, we shouldn't be satisfied with white female leads and white female directors. We must see women of all races, created by women of all races.
So we want to focus on celebrating as well as critiquing the role of women of color in film and TV. Here are some suggested films and television series -- but feel free to suggest your own!
The Color Purple
Dreamgirls
Scandal
Middle of Nowhere
Frida
Pariah
What's Love Got to Do with It?
The Cosby Show
Precious
Lady Sings the Blues
Daughters of the Dust
Selena
Night Catches Us
Grey's Anatomy
Real Women Have Curves
Eve's Bayou
Mi Vida Loca
Do the Right Thing
Columbiana
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
Bend It Like Beckham
Good Times
Crash
Sparkle
Watermelon Woman
American Family
A Different World
I Like It Like That
The Help
For Colored Girls
Jumping the Broom
Soul Food
Maria Full of Grace
Girlfriends
Half and Half
Love and Basketball
Brown Sugar
Ugly Betty
The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl
The Wire
As a reminder, these are a few basic guidelines for guest writers on our site:
--We like most of our pieces to be 1,000 - 2,000 words, preferably with some images and links.
--Please send your piece in the text of an email, including links to all images, no later than Friday, February, 22nd.
--Include a 2-3 sentence bio for placement at the end of your piece.
Email us at btchflcks(at)gmail(dot)com if you'd like to contribute a review. We accept original pieces or cross-posts. We look forward to reading your submissions!
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