Social Justice

What are we looking for?

By Bridget Laudien (Wikipedia:Contact us/Photo submission) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons — Not that kind of Ally.

Yesterday, my timelines exploded with people both sharing the #fitchthehomeless video and people protesting it. I admit to having shared it without watching, going solely on the commentary of a friend who passed it along. I removed it and apologized after watching it, because it really is awful. If you want to know why, you can check out this fantastic post.

Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about the other thing I saw a lot of. Instead of (rightly) being angry at people for sending around the video, the Internet Police sirens started going off about why people were willing to stand up against Abercrombie and Fitch in the first place. The most common complaint? “You didn’t care until the douchebag CEO made public comments about fat people.”

I have two problems with that line of thinking. First, how dare anyone presume to know the mind of anyone else? Yes, I shared the original blog post about the CEO’s comments. I thought nothing of sharing it because I’ve been protesting body shaming for years. Anyone who thinks that I just suddenly noticed that lots of stores (not just A&F) don’t carry plus sizes doesn’t know me well. Up until my second child was born, I wouldn’t have been able to shop in any of those stores either, and even now, I still can’t usually find stuff my size (I’m a larger-sized in-betweenie, so virtually nothing fits properly). Just because I don’t write much about fat shaming doesn’t mean I don’t care. I don’t write about lots of social movements because mostly, I write about the church, feminism, gender, and sexuality. You want people writing about fat activism? Fine–let me give you a couple of names.

Second, and for me the biggest “what the hell” moment, is the lack of logic. So, what you want is for people to care that stores don’t carry bigger sizes because our culture worships skinniness. Great! Now people care. And yet, you’re angry that they didn’t care sooner. I get it that you don’t want to give them a gold sticker, but at least the issue is now public, right? Isn’t the whole point of social movements, protests, blogging, and the like to make people sit up, take notice, and then do something? If it’s not, and if what we want is just to preach to the people who already agree with us, then I’m at a loss how to help with that. I don’t write about how the church treats women and LGBTQ people because I want my friends to show up here and cheer me on–I’m hoping that someone might see something he or she missed before, an aha! that sparks a change in attitude or behavior.

I’m a little tired of people getting upset because large-scale efforts or personal experience have helped people change their minds on social issues. I just can’t figure out which way is up anymore. Are we supposed to learn and grow, or are we supposed to stay bigoted so that the self-appointed Internet Cops can continue to point at us and remind us of our failures? I understand that we’re supposed to do the right thing because it’s right, not because we stand to lose something. At the same time, though, sometimes it’s the threat of loss that wakes us up to what we’ve been doing wrong. That’s not an excuse for past mistakes; it’s a motivation for future improvement.

By Vicki Nunn (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons — Much better.

If all we want is for like-minded people to applaud our work, then we’re no better than A&F’s CEO. We may be losing valuable allies by playing Hall Monitor on their motivation. We don’t need to dole out praise to people for coming on board, but we certainly should stop demonizing them for not joining us in exactly the way we wanted.

“Othering” and the parable of the Good Samaritan

Social Justice

This morning, I was hanging out on Twitter, catching up on some of the blog posts I missed while I was editing last night. Sarah Bessey, in her always lovely voice, wrote this about her weariness with reactivity. She put words to something I’ve been feeling lately as well. So I’m embarking on a journey of sorts. I’m still going to continue to respond to things I read, but I also want to return to talking about faith and Scripture and living more fully as followers of Christ. Because of my own experiences with weaponized Scripture, it’s taken me some time to come back to reading the Bible with the love I once had for the text. I’m not a Biblical scholar or a seminarian; the extent of my “training” is a handful of undergraduate Bible classes and multiple readings of Scripture, so take that as you will. If you’re willing, though, come with me as I explore some of this. I’d love to hear your thoughts, regardless of your training (and whether or not you’re a Christian; one doesn’t have to believe to appreciate the discussion). I’m not sure if I will make these posts a regular thing–I don’t like to commit that far in advance. But I’d like to, so we’ll see how this one goes.

Today, I want to start with a parable. I love the parables of Jesus; I don’t particularly love the culture that has grown up around them or the way I think a lot of Christians mishandle them. The parable of the Good Samaritan isn’t my favorite (that goes to the parable of the Lost Son), but it’s near the top. I suppose for a long time I used it as inspiration for getting involved in service. Like any good evangelical, I was taught to see this story in terms of my role. I learned to identify as the Samaritan, my goal to help instead of passing by. Don’t be like the priests and teachers of the law! They don’t help people! They leave them bleeding in the street!

With many years’ distance from my first reading of the text, I now think that’s a backwards way of reading the text.

So let’s look at what Jesus says:

An expert in the Law of Moses stood up and asked Jesus a question to see what he would say. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to have eternal life?”

Jesus answered, “What is written in the Scriptures? How do you understand them?”

The man replied, “The Scriptures say, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind.’ They also say, ‘Love your neighbors as much as you love yourself.’”

Jesus said, “You have given the right answer. If you do this, you will have eternal life.”

But the man wanted to show that he knew what he was talking about. So he asked Jesus, “Who are my neighbors?”

Jesus replied:

“As a man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, robbers attacked him and grabbed everything he had. They beat him up and ran off, leaving him half dead.

“A priest happened to be going down the same road. But when he saw the man, he walked by on the other side. Later a temple helper came to the same place. But when he saw the man who had been beaten up, he also went by on the other side.

“A man from Samaria then came traveling along that road. When he saw the man, he felt sorry for him and went over to him. He treated his wounds with olive oil and wine and bandaged them. Then he put him on his own donkey and took him to an inn, where he took care of him. The next morning he gave the innkeeper two silver coins and said, ‘Please take care of the man. If you spend more than this on him, I will pay you when I return.’

Then Jesus asked, “Which one of these three people was a real neighbor to the man who was beaten up by robbers?”

The teacher answered, “The one who showed pity.”

Jesus said, “Go and do the same!” [Luke 10:25-37, CEV]

Now, in fairness, Jesus did tell the expert in the law to behave as the Samaritan did. But there’s something really subtle in there that, for me at least, went unnoticed. Did you catch it?

The hero of this story is the Samaritan.

That’s an important distinction, and here’s why: Samaritans were the “others” of Jesus’ time. Instead of having the Samaritan being the one beaten on the side of the road and making the hero a teacher of the Law laying his prejudices aside in order to assist a hated Samaritan, Jesus flipped it around. He cast the Samaritan in the role of rescuer. (I have to wonder if he’d have told the story the other way if he’d been speaking to a crowd of Samaritans.)

I have a list of words and phrases I never want to hear again, most of which are Christian and/or feminist buzz words. Near the top of the list is the phrase, “Love the other.” It never appears in the Bible that way–in fact, I’m not even sure the concept appears in the Bible. For those who have not been exposed to evangelical culture, it means that we’re supposed to show love and compassion for people who are “not like us.” I’ve heard it used most often in regard to non-Christians, people in Africa, and LGBT people. The idea seems to be that if we just love people enough, if we just show mercy on those heathens, they will miraculously become what we want them to be: White, straight Christians (or at least as similar to white, straight Christians as possible).

It’s sickening.

We have a tendency to “other” people–to make assumptions about them, to pity them, to desire them to “come to Jesus” to be healed of their “otherness.” What a terrible way to view people! It places an emphasis on what we think is flawed about someone who doesn’t look or act or live the way we expect or believe they should. Jesus turns the whole thing upside down by casting the Samaritan in the role of hero. Put in more modern terms, it’s not the fine, upstanding, morally superior Christians who rush in to show mercy to anyone we consider “other.” It’s those very “others” who come to our aid when we need it.

So what does this mean for us? Obviously it’s not acceptable to continue believing that if we “love the other” we’re doing the right thing. Putting people in the category of “other” only serves to alienate. That leaves us with two possibilities, both of which are healthier readings of the text.

First, we absolutely need to do as the Samaritan did–if someone is in immediate need, and we can help, then we should. That includes considering common courtesy without needing a cookie for being a decent human being. So you held the door for a person in a wheelchair. So what? Nice people do that. No one is going to congratulate you for not being a jerk and letting it slam in her face. It also might include some things that could stretch us but that we need to do without using it as a way to prove we aren’t “othering” people. For example, what if you had the opportunity to take in a homeless youth whose parents asked her to leave when she came out? Would you? And would you do it because she needs a roof over her head and hot meals, or would you do it because you think you’re building Heavenly Cred or because you’re going to convince her she’s a sinner in need of grace?

Second, we need to put ourselves in the shoes of the victim in the parable. We need to stop thinking of ourselves as rescuers of all the Not-Like-Us people of the world. We are not the Statue of Liberty, beacons welcoming all the tragic souls and inviting them in–so long as they kinda try to act like us. What if the tables were turned? What if we needed help? Because that’s what happens in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Someone considered “other” is the very person on whom the beaten man can depend.

Ultimately, it’s not about who is the Hero and who is the Distressed. It’s about valuing the humanity and dignity of every person. In order to fully actualize that, we need to stop dividing ourselves into “normal” and “other” categories. There is no such thing in the eyes of God, and there’s no place for it among us.

Barnes & Noble, Harry Potter, and the Smurfette Principle: Part 3

Books, Feminism, Social Justice, Writing

This is the last part of the series on using men/boys as the default for readership. Read the first two parts here and here. Today, I’m offering some solutions. We can’t solve everything, but this might be a start.

Time for the Big Question: What if Harry Potter had been a girl? (TRUTH)

I don’t just mean would we have read the books or would she have become a cultural icon. I’m asking what would have changed if the story had been about a girl.

As written, the whole point of the story is The Boy Who Lived. My guess is that if the protagonist were a girl, even though the story would have remained the same, in our cultural consciousness it would have become about The Girl Who Lived. That is to say, suddenly it would have been about her femaleness rather than her spirit or her heart or her resolve. (I like to give J. K. Rowling credit that this would not have been her doing, but that of cultural constructs that dictate male as neutral, objective, and default.) The books would have been marketed toward girls, with a whole line of pink merchandise.

Because boy wizards are for everyone; girl witches are for girls.

(Interestingly, StoryNory has subverted this quite nicely. You can listen to the original stories about Katie the Witch here.)

We could actually ask this question in a whole host of different ways, because the problem of the default is not limited to simply being male. It’s also about being white, straight, neurotypical, able-bodied, and cisgender. The moment a main character is not all of those things, it becomes all about being whatever else they might be. (For example, if Harry had fallen in love with Dean or Neville instead of Ginny, it would have become a Coming Out story instead of a Defeating Voldemort story.)

The whole point of speculative fiction (which covers a pretty broad range–fantasy, science fiction, distopian, urban fantasy) is to leave our world and enter another. Too often, those stories feature either a male main character or a character for whom their not-maleness (or not-straightness or not-whiteness or not-able-bodiedness or not cis-ness or whatever) becomes a key point in the plot. You could have a story about a kid from the 25th century who travels back in time with a laser sword and a trusty sidekick to battle pirates in the 18th century. Make the kid a girl and suddenly it’s all about how she has to “prove” herself among men or how she’s “atypical” in her culture for wanting to battle pirates. You can swap out the girl for pretty much anyone who isn’t a white, straight, cis dude and the same thing happens.

That is not to say that there shouldn’t be anything different between the laser sword-wielding boy and the laser sword-wielding girl. I’m not advocating for some unknown ideal of gender-neutrality. I’m just explaining that when it comes to what’s on the book shelves, anyone who isn’t in the Approved Default Category gets a specially roped off section devoted to People Like That–which means that the story is often about dealing with both pirates and being a girl (or whatever) instead of just being about Saving the World From Pirates.

So what the heck do we do with that? Let me give some completely unsolicited advice.

For writers:

Be conscious of what you’re doing. If you write a character that is Not You, please don’t make it all about how that person is Not You. It might help to actually talk to (or better yet be friends with) people who are Not You so that you know what people might appreciate. For example, I am done with princesses who rebel against expectations in order to go battle dragons.
Discussing cultural norms works fine in historical/realistic fiction (when done well, mind you), but it doesn’t work well in fantasy. Part of the appeal of speculative fiction is that these issues can be addressed sideways (as in Harry Potter with pureblood supremacy). A girl dealing with sexism in her school election when she’s supposed to be dealing with sexism is great; a girl dealing with sexism on an alien planet when she’s supposed to be Saving the World is not.
Be mindful of tropes. Not all of them are bad, but racist, sexist, homophobic, ableist, and transphobic tropes are NOT EVER OKAY.
Don’t make assumptions about what people will or won’t read. Boys do, in fact, want to read about girls. Not just adventuresome girls, either; boys do not naturally come with a setting that says, “Girls are boring.” You can have an entire book that has mostly girls in it and guess what? Boys will still read it! Amazing, that.
Stop limiting girls in “realistic” fiction to domesticity and relational drama. Sometimes, girls have to deal with the death of a parent or a move to a new city or nerves about being the trombone soloist in the band concert–oddly, much like boys do.
Same thing goes for any other characters that are not white, straight, cis boys. It’s true that there are experiences unique to people who haven’t been considered the default, so those issues may come up in realistic fiction as things characters have to deal with. But this can be done in a way that every kid can understand. A good example of this is James Howe’s The Misfits and its companion books. The kids in the books are dealing with things specific to them, but it’s done in the context of bullying–which makes it relatable regardless of the particulars.
Most importantly, tell the story you have to tell. Don’t stress about making your story an issues story, just make it a good story.

For readers (especially parents giving books to their kids):

Don’t limit yourself. If you can’t find the book at Barnes & Noble in-store, then look online. Ask friends to recommend books. Check with a librarian at your local branch. There’s more than what’s on those store shelves.
Make sure you give both boys and girls a wide variety from which to choose. Read the back cover and the first chapter before handing something to your child–don’t just look at the cover and make assumptions.
If you have a boy, don’t pass up books about girls because you think he won’t be interested. The American Girl stories are really good (stupid, expensive product line aside). The stories are not about “girlhood”; they are about friendship and family and kids experiencing changes in their lives, all within a historical context.
A great way to find books for your child is to check out lexile.com. If you know your child’s actual lexile, you can find books based on that. If not, take a look at the last thing your child read. Type the title into the search engine and you’ll come up with a lexile number for it. If your child says that book is what my own son calls a “just right” read, you can enter the lexile number into the search to find similarly leveled books. You can search by genre as well, including non-fiction.
When you read, set the example by reading a broad range of books. Interestingly, in the “new fiction” section of B&N, I found a completely different story from the kids’ section. There were books by and about both men and women in approximately equal numbers. The stories were varied–memoir, action, drama, romance, horror, mystery. Take a chance on a new author!

Finally, I want to briefly touch on how this relates in particular to people of faith. As a Christian, I take it seriously when the Bible says that in Christ there is no male or female. For me that means that I need to work toward ending the injustice toward women, including the view that men are the default. It’s important to me that my kids grow up knowing that real freedom, spiritually speaking, means being true to themselves and having the expectation that others will do likewise. My daughter should not grow up believing the only thing God made special about her is that she’s a girl; my son should not grow up thinking that God put the burden of being the measuring stick upon him because he’s a boy.

Thanks for coming along for the ride this week, everyone. Happy reading and writing–now go, change the world!

Barnes & Noble, Harry Potter, and the Smurfette Principle: Part 2

Books, Feminism

Do you know how hard it is to find a picture of Hermione that’s not just Emma Watson posing for a shoot? I rather like this one, though.

Today’s post is a continuation of yesterday’s discussion. If you didn’t read it, you may want to catch up. I also recommend you read the links so we’re all on the same page.

I promised that I would explain further about the Smurfette Principle/Girls Are Special and how those tropes relate to Harry Potter, so let’s dive right in. I admit to being reluctant; I loved Harry before the books were cool. I first spotted Sorcerer’s Stone in Barnes & Noble (yeah, I know) and thought, That looks like an interesting book. I bought a copy. By that time, the second one had just come out, so I bought that one, too. I was hooked. So keep in mind that this is coming from a place of deep love.

The reason I’m bringing up the books in this conversation is that I think they’re a good way to analyze the problem from both sides. Many books (as readers pointed out in the comments on yesterday’s post) have lone female characters, and it’s easy to tell that they’re Smurfettes or Special for Being Girls. When there are no other girls or women (or they’re the Big Bad), the story automatically fails Bechdel. Princess stories tend to fall into this category, for example. But in the Harryverse, it’s not quite so obvious. After all, there are lots of women and girls–but only one girl who is central to the plot.

So let’s talk about Hermione. Don’t misunderstand–I love her. I probably love her for the same reasons that she embodies several tropes (and really, who wasn’t cheering for her when she slapped Malfoy?). But that’s important to acknowledge, because there’s a fine line between wanting all girls/women to fit into those categories and appreciating one who just happens to do so.

On the surface, it appears that Hermione is a pretty good example of a Smurfette. After all, isn’t she the lone girl having adventures alongside the boys? The other girls and women seem one-dimensional. Aren’t Lavender and Parvati just there to be pretty and flirtatious? And isn’t Ginny’s claim to fame that she’s Harry’s love interest? And isn’t Molly Weasley a stereotype of a stay-at-home mom (particularly of the religious sort), while Narcissa Malfoy is the picture of a trophy wife?

When one digs deeper, however, it’s obvious that this isn’t strictly true. In fact, the entire Harryverse is populated with some pretty amazing girls and women. They’re a diverse crew. Not all of them are nice, of course (and Bellatrix Lestrange is definitely an evil version of a Smurfette). Even so, they are there in vibrant colors–girls who are smart, fiesty, brave, caring, and a bit kooky. Even girls who seem shallow and uninteresting can sometimes turn out to be among the bravest.

The problem isn’t the girls in the Harry Potter books (though we could make a good case for the movies largely erasing most of them; there’s a big surprise). Where I notice it more is in the books that imitate the style. When it’s done improperly, all we find are stories driven by the adventures of boys and their one girl companion.

That makes me sad.

I think that a huge part of what leads to the belief that Women Are Special is the very thing that Hermione and Ginny and Luna and, yes, Lavender (and even bitchy Pansy) subvert. If men are the default, then everything about me–what I do, what I think, what I write–must automatically be in relation to men (or at minimum my identity as “not a man”). Girls in books exist either as lone beacons or as accessories for boys–even when hunting dragons. It would never occur to a girl to go on an adventure unless she was being rebellious against her femininity or she was helping a boy to win against the bad guys. Therefore, we would never see more than one of these mysterious creatures adventuring with her own kind.

But Harry’s friends aren’t like that.

Warning: Spoilers. Don’t read this if you haven’t read all 7 books but plan to and want to be surprised.

Although in the last book Harry, Ron, and Hermione go off on their own, she is typically not without help from other girls and/or women. This is particularly evident when Harry’s friends insist on accompanying him to the Department of Mysteries in the fifth book. His reason for not wanting them there isn’t because he’s afraid the girls are too weak and might get hurt; he wants to go alone so no one else gets into trouble.

When it comes down to the end of the last book, they all show up–every last one of the diverse crew of women and girls, including characters who hadn’t been seen in some time. No one tells them that they should take care of the wounded while the men-folk do the real fighting. No one asks them to defend their presence by making them show their Plucky Tomboy Princess credentials or assessing their motivation (is it a rebellion against gender stereotypes? is it to save the boys they love? is it to prove they’re as tough as any man?). They do what they need to do, and no one asks them why–it’s assumed that everyone is sharing a common why.

Motivation for heroic or selfless acts doesn’t have gender. A woman can write about these themes, and her characters can embody them, because they are universal–not because they belong to men and women are finally claiming them.

Tomorrow, I’m wrapping up the series with a discussion of how that affects what writers do and how we can avoid boxing girls in with narrow gender stereotypes and sexist tropes–and why it matters (including in regard to faith; you knew I’d get to that, right?). I hope you’ll stick around.

Barnes & Noble, Harry Potter, and the Smurfette Principle: Part 1

Books, Feminism

Note: I’m going to ask that before you leave a comment, please read all the links in this post. Otherwise, I will have to spend my time explaining things to you that you could easily read for yourself. Thanks!

On Sunday, I was out with my family enjoying some much-needed time together after a very busy weekend. We took the kids to Barnes & Noble, followed by dinner out. A good time was had by all, and I was reminded again just why I adore my husband so much. How many women can say to their husbands, “My inner Feminist Meter was pinging” and have their husbands nod in agreement? While we enjoyed our ice cream, I told him I would explain after the kids were in bed what disturbed me while browsing the kids’ section with my daughter. The good news is that later that night, I got about six words in when my husband’s eyes widened and he was shaking his head–he knew exactly what I meant.

Before I begin, I should define a term for those who may not be familiar. A trope is a device or convention commonly used or expected in media (particularly storytelling). You can read more about them here. Fair warning, though: That web site is highly addictive and you will likely find yourself falling quickly down the rabbit hole.

Back to my story. While at Barnes & Noble, I decided to have a look around for books that might be interesting to my kids. I am aware of lots of wonderful books for their ages, many of which we own. But we’re in a unique situation where we have two children who can read above grade level; that means that books for their ages are often uninteresting because they’re too easy. So I’m always on the lookout for good stuff. I figured this would be as good a time as any to see what was on the shelves.

That was a mistake.

I should learn to just walk away. But since I am slightly obsessive about these things, I just haven’t been able to do it yet. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. By the time we left the store, I had moved past Mildly Annoyed and into I Need to Blog This territory.

Last week, several of my favorite bloggers posted about how most men tend to read books by men, while women often read a more equal mix of books by men and by women. I wasn’t sure what to write; it seemed like it had already been said. That is, until I browsed the shelves and realized that it’s actually part of a larger problem. I don’t think that the author’s gender is the only important factor–it’s also the characters in the books.

What I discovered was that the vast majority of books available in-store feature boys as main characters. This is true regardless of the author or the content. Books aimed at boys feature boys; books aimed at girls feature girls. That’s to be expected, and not all of that is bad. I mean, not that I wouldn’t let my son read Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, but he won’t ever be able to relate to menstruation. What I didn’t appreciate was that most books aimed at a “universal” audience also feature boys.

This is a particular trope known as Men Are Generic, Women Are Special. In other words, something everyone can/should enjoy must feature boys/men as the main characters. Girls end up as sidekicks, girlfriends, casualties, or all three. There are a host of other tropes that usually accompany this theme–for example, there is often only one girl among the group, and she is seen as “not particularly girly.” She might be unattractive in some way, or she might be intelligent but weak, or she might be a tomboy stereotype. Sometimes, the girl of the group has very little personality–her uniqueness is related to being a girl (the Smurfette Principle).

Quite a lot of popular films and books fall into this unfortunate trap. And really, it wouldn’t be a big deal if only some of what we read have these tropes. When I browsed the shelves, though, I saw a disproportionate number of books with the same theme–boys are the “leaders” who drive the story, even when the audience is supposed to be universal. Books featuring girls were nearly all (with a few notable exceptions) about girls doing domestic tasks and/or grappling with “relationship” issues. An uncomfortable number of “girl” books don’t pass the Bechdel Test, despite having multiple girl characters (i. e. the plot is driven by a fight over a boy).

When I mentioned this on Twitter, I was accused of creating a “conspiracy theory” and informed that this is a problem with “marketing” not availability. I agree that the problem is with the marketing; I never said it wasn’t. I was expressly condemning Barnes & Noble for its poor choice in what to stock. At no point did I say there aren’t enough women writing books or there aren’t enough books featuring girls. There are! There are lots and lots of wonderful books by women and men alike that feature girls. Our public library contains many of them, and friends have recommended others. If I want to buy the books, I can find them in all sorts of places. That’s not my complaint!

My complaint is specifically about what’s marketed, what’s available on-shelf when one browses the book store. Because the message being sent by this–or at least, what marketing believes to be true–is that girls don’t have universal appeal, but boys do. The perception is that Harry Potter is the pinnacle of storytelling for youth because of the appeal of Harry, not the broad themes of the story. (There were at least half a dozen Potter knock-off series on the shelves.) Sadly, the Harryverse fits neatly into that belief system. I want to unpack that a bit more, but I’ll save it for tomorrow.

The problem I have with the book store is the same one I have with toy stores and visual media: It’s split into boy things and girl things, with boy things the acceptable default. The sexism is evident in what and how things are advertised, not necessarily what’s being created (though there are exceptions). This is the thing that needs to change. And if stores like Barnes & Noble won’t change what they put on their shelves, then we need to stop looking there for new material.

Tomorrow, I will expand on how Harry fits into this and why that series is potentially not a problem while the imitations potentially are. Stick around this week to find out more (including what we can do about it).

What our boys learn

Feminism, Gender Roles, Sexuality and Gender, Women

Yesterday, Emily Wierenga apologized. I’m glad, because she owed it to those who were hurt by her original post about relationships and submission. There were several reasons why I didn’t respond to the first post. First, I was late to the game. I’d been on vacation when it appeared, so I missed it–all I saw was the fallout. Second, plenty of others had already written what needed to be said. Third, I already didn’t care much for her theology or her title of “Everyday Radical” (she’s not particularly radical); I really couldn’t figure out why everyone was so surprised by her words.

I don’t want to go around and around about the original post. I will say that no matter how “heartfelt” or sincere-sounding her apology, she still has problematic theology that she refuses to acknowledge. I’m glad she understands how hurtful her words were, but she also needs to examine her beliefs a lot more closely. Her original post was addressed to people like me–Christian feminists. It was not a rallying cry for people who share her views but something written to those of us she feels are outside that theology. Therefore, I see no need to extend some kind of olive branch in her direction. I don’t stand with Emily or people who share her beliefs, despite the fact that we may all call ourselves Christians. As a woman, as a feminist, and as a Christian, I have a responsibility to address things that contribute to the way women are seen in the church. That includes speaking out against the patriarchal leanings of other writers–whether those people are men or women. The fact that we both have vaginas in no way obligates me to some kind of womanly solidarity.

When I saw that Emily was offering an apology, I was glad; I believed she was doing the right thing–until I read a couple of paragraphs down. These words made my blood boil:

I didn’t know the way I would cry at night for fear of sending my boys to school, for all of the school shootings and drugs but not only that: for the way they wouldn’t be taught how to be strong leaders, but rather, would be questioned about their gender, made guilty for the way their kind had treated women in the past, and told that they could be attracted to either males or females because there was no male or female: there just was.

I’m not going to waste time on the rest of her apology; it wasn’t bad, though I think she still needs to consider the implications of her original post beyond its triggering effect. No, I want to address what I quoted above. I am the mother of a nine-year-old boy who attends public school; there has never once been a time when I have been afraid that he would be taught any of those things Emily mentions:

1. They wouldn’t be taught how to be strong leaders

First of all, that’s not the job of the school. The job of the school is to teach our children how to read and write and do sums. If we want any of our children–sons or daughters–to be “strong leaders,” then we must take responsibility as their parents. Not only that, this desire to have (in particular boys) become strong leaders ignores the fact that not everyone has a personality suited to “leadership” (at least, not the way it’s defined in conservative evangelical circles). As for what I think Emily might actually mean–that boys need to learn to be strong leaders so they can lead their wives–that is most definitely not something I want my son learning at school. If that’s your religious belief, you’re welcome to it, but don’t impose it on my kid.

2. They . . . would be questioned about their gender

As far as I know, this is a made-up concern. I have yet to meet a teacher or school employee who questions my child’s gender. I’m not entirely sure how Emily means this, but if she means that girls are given unfair advantage because there’s a sudden backlash against boys, she needs a pretty serious reality check. Boys are still more frequently called on in class, and boys are more often encouraged to explore math and science. What gets questioned is when boys fail to live up to that expectation.

If Emily means that suddenly boys won’t be boys and girls won’t be girls, that’s also pretty ridiculous. Is she assuming some mass takeover of our schools by an imaginary army of transgender people and their allies? Or is she just lamenting that now it’s okay for boys to like pink and take ballet? (I doubt she’s having the same questions about whether girls can climb trees and play with trucks.)

3. . . . made guilty for the way their kind had treated women in the past

My son hasn’t yet come home telling me that girls are good and boys are bad for hurting them. Again, this is not a thing that happens in schools. I just don’t understand where Emily’s deep fear of feminists is coming from. We’re not staging protests on the high school campuses or storming the gates of district offices. We’re not making impassioned pleas at school board meetings. No one is telling our boys that “their kind” are heinous beasts that have perpetrated evil on womankind. This smacks of feminist stereotypes. What I hope my son is learning (and I believe he is, if his behavior is an indication) is that girls are equally intelligent, interesting, strong, brave, and fun. Through his friendships with girls, my son is learning things that will eventually make him a better man. The adults around him are encouraging this–and that’s a very good thing.

Also, let’s be clear on this: Men being assholes to women? Not so much a thing of the past.

4. . . . told that they could be attracted to either males or females

Damn skippy, though I doubt this happens at age nine. I certainly hope that my son is aware that whatever sexual attractions he feels are normal. I learned at church that sexual attraction was bad unless it was within marriage between a man and a woman. Because I live in a conservative city, the most “sex ed” I got there was a very brief, embarrassed, “Um…uh…use some birth control so you don’t get a nebulous disease we’re not actually going to describe for you. Now, watch this video of a woman giving birth so you’re too disgusted to get pregnant.”

Anyway, Emily is wrong about this one too–is she not aware that kids are still being bullied for their sexuality? Even if schools are teaching an inclusive sex education (which they’re not in most places), the horror of having your kid know gay people exist is a lot less scary than being the gay kid who gets threatened or beaten. Priorities, people. Sort them.

5. . . . because there was no male or female: there just was.

This is also foolish. No one teaches or believes this. It’s fear-mongering. I do not know any person–cis or trans–who believes or teaches this. For the love of God, please go look things up before you start spouting off on them.

Oh, wait. She probably means proper gender roles, not actual genders. Er…I hope. What she seems to possibly mean here (?)–though I honestly can’t tell; I’m still confused–is that it’s okay for men to be attracted to men or women to women because the lines between their roles have gotten too fuzzy. I can’t decide which interpretation of Emily’s words is more offensive. In either case, gross stereotypes are being perpetuated here. Whatever Emily’s intent, it changes nothing. There are no schools teaching these bizarre things about gender.

When I send my son to school, I worry that he might have forgotten his lunch money.

Barnes & Noble, Harry Potter, and the Smurfette Principle: Part 2

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