feminism

The Destruction of Men

I’m tired.

No, scratch that. I’m exhausted. I don’t mean physically; I mean I’m mentally drained to the point that more words won’t come. I’ve run out of different ways to say the same things. Yet here I am, giving it one more try.

Feminism is not “bad for men.”

Or perhaps it is, in the sense that it requires men to examine the ways in which they benefit from male privilege. Perhaps it is bad for men who actively work to perpetuate the systems in place that tip the balance in their favor. Perhaps it is bad for men who violently use and abuse women.

But it’s not bad for men in the sense that they must no longer be real men.

The reason for my weariness today is the numerous conversations on- and offline following last week’s Feminisms Fest blog link-up. I think the reaction of non-participants (overwhelmingly cis men) can be summed up like so:

I’m tired of hearing about feminism. Not all men are bad.

Yes, well, that’s true. The thing is, though, even if you’re one of the good (not “good”) ones, unless you’re putting your voice out there already, you probably have some things to learn.

It’s not about the actions of one individual man that concern me. It’s the societal structures in place that allow people to live in blissful ignorance of the hidden privileges of being a male-identified, male-bodied person. Even some of the things that do hurt men are the direct result of patriarchy. I’ve tried (sometimes patiently, sometimes not) to explain what it means to be privileged, but too often I’m met with, “Huh?”

This checklist of male privilege is fairly helpful. There are some things that I think could use some clarification, but overall, it’s a nice summary. It’s not surprising, but it is disappointing that according to the checklist, cisgender is also assumed; that’s a post for another day. I also want to mention that a few of the items on the list would be harmful to men if they were reversed–another direct result of patriarchy. For example:

A man would not be questioned about having a career and children, but he certainly would be questioned if he decided to stay home.
A man would not be expected to take his spouse’s name on marriage, but he would be questioned if he did.
The entirety of manhood would not be seen as a failure for one man’s failure in his career–but he might be seen as having failed at manhood.
A man who works for a woman might be viewed negatively if he wasn’t vying for her job–or even if he expressed his respect for her authority.
A boy who is quiet, introverted, or artistic is often viewed as unmasculine.
Boys may be judged on the kinds of toys they do or do not play with.
On the whole, a man doesn’t have to worry about the message his wardrobe sends–unless he doesn’t want to wear “typical” men’s clothing or colors.
A man who has been sexually harassed, raped, or victimized by an intimate partner may have more stigma and fewer resources for help based on the faulty idea that he should have “been a man” and prevented or stopped it. He may not be able to seek asylum at a shelter due to distrust of men or disbelief that he was victimized.

Yes, men, this is hurting you, too. But not in the ways you think it is. Not because a woman who works in upper management is a “ball-buster” or wants to “be a man.” Not because your notion of feminism is that it’s anti-man. What’s hurting you is not feminism but the systems that feminism seeks to dismantle.

I think the mistake is that in some way, men recognize that the power is imbalanced, and there is an understandable fear that the tables will be turned. It’s not so much about losing the privileged status (at least, not for the genuinely good guys); it’s about not wanting women to do to men what they’ve done to us for centuries. I can assure you that while there are probably a few women who would like that, the overwhelming majority of us just want equity.

That’s all. Just all people, equal in all things. Equal pay. Equal choices for our lives. Freedom from fear. Freedom of gender expression and sexual expression. Opportunities for all people in all areas of work and life. Justice for everyone, regardless of who we are, how we identify, or what we look like. It’s actually pretty simple.

The ways to accomplish it are simple, too. Take a look at the checklist again. What things on there can you change in how you interact with your spouse and children? Your parents and siblings? Your employers and employees? Yourself?

If you think about it, it’s not hard to see why we still need feminism–even for men.

Notable News: Week of February 23-March 1, 2013

Blogs, Cool Stuff, Faith and Spirituality, Feminism, Links, Women

What a great week it’s been. I have been honored and thrilled to participate in the feminisms link-up and be included with some of my favorite bloggers. Today I’m highlighting the best of what I’ve seen this week.

1. On the Body and Blood

There’s a lot of my spiritual past I still have to sort through, even as it relates to women in the Church. It’s not all so tidy, but it does mean that when I approached the rail for the first time to receive the Eucharist, it was the most unconsciously natural thing for there to be a woman with the Body and Blood in her hands, just as a woman held the Body and Blood two thousand years ago. [“feminism & me, whether i knew it or not,” Antonia Terrazas]

2. On (literal) bra-burning

Those scraps of fabric finally started burning well, the polyester fibers casting out light and all of our bold pronouncements at the injustice of the world. We stared for a brief moment at our success.

The flames blossomed.

“Oh my gosh!” someone shrieked. “THE TRASH CAN IS ON FIRE!” [“The Fires of Feminism,” Emily Maynard]

3. On not being half

I was angriest that day because a boy had said out loud what I’m always afraid men are thinking.

That, as a woman in the church, I am by very nature a HALF.

Half a heart. Half a body. Half a purpose. [“today i embark on an expedition to take back my personhood,” Jesus Gypsy]

4. On needing femimism

This is how I feel. When someone asks me why I believe inequality exists, I want to scream, “Why do I believe you exist? You’re standing right in front of me!”

So actually, Christian church, you need feminism like the dying need a tourniquet. But I need your attitude like a fish needs a bicycle. [“What I Learned: Like a fish needs a bicycle,” Emily Joy Allison]

5. On being a feminist for our sons, too

I’m a feminist because I want my son to see all people as valuable human beings, created in God’s image. I want him to reject culturally constructed ideas about what it means to be “masculine” or “feminine” and to embrace biblical truth about what it means to be human, male and female, created in teh image of a loving God. [“for my son,” Amy at Making All Things New]

6. On the control of women’s bodies

everything about my mother’s experience tells me a story about someone else deciding what women should do with their bodies. It tells me about dangerous assumptions and naive women and sickness being passed from one generation to the next, daughters without mothers and mothers without daughters. [“FemFest : My Daughter’s Body,” Bethany Suckrow]

7. On love and justice

But I agree with hooks that there can be no love without justice. Where unfairness, inequality, abuse, disrespect, victim-blaming, and rape exist, there is no love.

And feminism is one movement that fights for justice for women. [“Feminisms Fest: I need feminism because there is no love without justice,” Sarah Moon]

8. On taking ownership of misogyny and healing the hidden wound

We hear sermons telling women their only place in this world is the home. We buy toys that are deliberately designated for either boys or girls. We see movies that portray women as one-dimensional manic pixie dream girls who’s only mission in life is to rescue “sensitive” moody guys from their self pity. [“FemFest: The Other Hidden Wound,” Travis Mamone]

9. On speaking blessings over the feminist women and men of faith

So, I’m bending the rules a little bit. Next week I’ll probably do my own wrap-up, as well as a list of contributions that I thought were particularly helpful or well-done. In the meantime, I’m going to write something that’s on my heart: I want to speak a blessing over everyone who has participated this week. [“People of Valor,” Shaney Irene]

10. On places where you can read more

Have a great weekend, everybody, and I’ll see you on Monday.

FemFest: The road behind and the road ahead

Women

It’s the third and final day of the Feminisms Fest. Today I’m answering the question, “What did you take away from the discussion?” Head on over to seeprestonblog.com to find out what other feminists are saying.

The last two days have been an incredible journey for me into the hearts and lives of other people who call themselves both feminists and Christians. I learned four things from this discussion:

There are so many Christian feminists–I had no idea!
Everyone has a story to tell; they are both alike and different in important ways.
Feminist spheres are still, sadly, overwhelmingly white, and among Christians, also largely straight and cisgender.
We have a long, long way to go.

I’d like to speak to each of these.

First, I was overwhelmed with the sheer volume of feminist posts. I can’t link them all here–there are too many. You can check out the link above for other blogs on today’s topic, and you can check out my last two posts for the links to Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s posts. My favorite blogger this week has been Emily Joy Allison. I don’t have enough words for how much I’ve enjoyed her posts this week. I was also encouraged by how many men participated. Men, you have no idea how much that means–not only to have you as allies on this journey but to know my son has so many role models.

Second, I discovered that we come from so many different backgrounds, but we share some common threads. It makes me sad that nearly all of us have experienced sexism in the church or among Christians. Those of us who profess to follow Christ should be the first to stand up and declare the equity of all humans. (It’s even biblical, if you want to go there.) Despite that commonality, each of us has our own unique story. We’ve all come to feminism(s) from different places and at different times and for different reasons. We don’t all view feminism the same way or need it in the same way. Instead of letting it divide us, this week I saw it heal and unite us. I am in awe.

Third, I saw inadvertent lines drawn. I have so much love for all the women and men who came to the table this week, so please do not take this as a lack of respect for the hard work being done here. But the overwhelming majority of voices belong to white, straight, cisgender people. That just absolutely breaks my heart. I’ve said before that I do not want to be the token woman at a table of men, and I don’t want men to “budge up” for me so I can sit with them. I can imagine that women who are not straight, white, or cis might have the same feelings about me/us. I want a radical inclusion that values every voice, but right now, that isn’t happening in most areas of feminism. Don’t think for even a moment that I have the attitude that it’s wrong for women of color or transwomen or lesbians to have their own space. But can’t we also have a place somewhere that we can all meet and talk about intersectionality? What about (and this is the ONLY time you will ever see me use this phrase) the men who are being actively hurt by patriarchy and misogyny? I know already what it’s like to be me; I want to know what it’s like to be you–I want to understand where you feel heard and unheard, seen and unseen. If feminism is only about seeking justice for women (especially white, straight, cis women), then I want no further part of it. I don’t believe this is what feminism is, though, and I look forward to a future where no one is making room for anyone else because we’re all already at the table together.

Fourth, we have such a long, long way to go. I wish people would stop thinking that it’s just the overt sexism we need to fight. The right to vote, the fight over women’s healthcare, the role of women in the church and home, and the media images of the perfect woman are not the only issues. There is so much subtle sexism everywhere. I received a message from a relatively new acquaintance in which we had an exchange about the Disney movie Brave. He asked what I thought, and I said I thought it was an interesting exploration of the complicated mother/daughter relationship. He said that was good, but his primary concern was the rape apologia in the film. Confused (I’ve seen the film twice and didn’t see it), I asked what he meant. He replied,

I do not accept the excuses people are making for the boy diving into the maid’s cleavage. It was against her wishes. The boy is not an infant acting innocently. He is deliberately acting out a plan, deliberately crossing a line. From a Freudian perspective, part of what makes the scene “funny” is that we know in our heart of hearts that a woman’s body has been violated.

Well, damn. My own eyes glossed over that scene (twice, I remind you!). In other words, it seemed normal to me. I was so busy looking for overtly sexist messages that I missed the subtle one. The violation of people’s bodies should never, ever be played for laughs–even at the Oscars. So until all forms of sexism end, we will still need people willing to push back and call it out.

What a week this has been. I hope that those of us who participated can continue this conversation. I hope that we can find safe spaces in which we can become listeners as well as speakers. I hope that faith leads more people to take up the charge.

What is your vision for feminism as we move forward?

FemFest: A gift for my children

Women

This is Day 2 of the Feminists Fest. Today I am answering the question, “Why is feminism important to you?” Click on fromtwotoone.com to read more great posts by other bloggers.

Feminism matters.

When I considered why women’s issues are important to me, the first thing that came to mind was my own daughter. I want her to live in a world where girls are encouraged to enter math and science fields. Where it’s okay that she likes to wear Hello Kitty shirts with her big brother’s outgrown shorts. Where she doesn’t need to be taught wariness in elevators and on public transit. Where she will be paid the same for doing the same job. Where she can marry or not marry; have kids or not have kids; stay at home, work from home, or work outside her home and never be seen as lacking for her choices. Where women are people and not objects or caricatures. Where no one will use a gendered slur against her.

I also want my daughter to see herself and others as beautiful not in spite of but because of our shared humanity. I want her to be confident in her body and her abilities. I want her to love who she loves without apology. I want her to respect herself and others. I want her to set goals, follow her dreams, and be the person she was created to be. What parent doesn’t want that?

Of course I still want those things, but in my fierce defense of my daughter and what I want for her, I had forgotten something: I also have a son. My husband is a wonderful father and role model, and he’s a feminist himself (or ally, if you prefer). I’m not worried that my son’s example of masculinity is someone I wouldn’t want him to emulate. But I think my son also needs to learn from me that I want all the same things for him that I want for my daughter. He needs to see that what I’ve been saying is true–the world being a better place for women means that it is also a better place for him.

I know in intimate detail what feminism will do, be, and mean for my daughter. What will it mean for my son?

That he will never again be told that dancing will “turn him gay” or that being creative indicates he’s not “boy” enough
That it’s ok for him to say, “Sometimes I wish I were a girl. Girls have so much fun” and not fear that anyone will shame him
That he can play dollhouse or wear dress-up clothes or like the color pink just because he does
That even if the above does mean something more that it’s perfectly fine

The thing is, I may have had it wrong–I may have failed in some way to account for my son. Do you know who didn’t? I’ll give you a moment to guess.

. . .

My daughter didn’t.

In her beautiful, holy, innocent seven-year-old wisdom, she has not ever forgotten her brother. They talk frequently about how all people, regardless of race, gender, or orientation, deserve justice. They talk about how they want to make the world a better place. He tells her he loves her and girls–she–can be whatever she wants to be. And she, my most precious daughter, tells her big brother that she loves him and the world is open to him, too.

Why does feminism matter to you?

FemFest: What Feminism Means to Me

Women

This post is part of the #FemFest, a blog link-up on the topic of feminism. Today, I’m answering the question “What is your experience with feminism?” Pop over to loveiswhatyoudo.com for more great blog posts. The series continues tomorrow and Thursday.

When I was young, I never thought much about feminism–that is, until I was few months shy of fourteen.

It was June, 1989. I was in eighth grade. I kept my radio tuned to local popular music station 98PXY, where I could enjoy my fix of Phil Collins and REM. My dad took us to see Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, which was a treat because we rarely went to movies as a family. George HW Bush was president, much to most of my family’s dismay. I was the proud owner of an Apple IIGS computer. That summer, I was on the verge of my own womanhood, and I was ready to shed the “goody two-shoes” image I’d lived for the previous thirteen years.

And then feminism came crashing through my world.

More specifically, my sister, older by seven years, was part of a group of ten women arrested in a local park for taking off their shirts. (This was just three years after the original Top Free Seven made headlines.) I was literally face-to-face with someone who was part of a women’s equality movement.

I didn’t have any idea what to do with that.

Aside from the confusion of the arrest and the several months’ worth of hang-up calls and the taunting of some of my peers, I just didn’t know what it meant. I had no idea what these women were fighting for. After all, I had no desire to take off my shirt in public. Why would anyone else? In fairness to my sister, I’m sure she tried to explain it to me. She’s an excellent teacher when it comes to these things, and she’s been very patient with me over the years. I was either just that clueless or being intentionally dense. That, or I was too busy being hormone-addled. Thirteen is such a magical age.

Given more time, I think I would have understood. But a mere three months later, I was already becoming deeply invested in church culture. Not having grown up in a religious household (my mother had left a fundamentalist church, and my father is Jewish but not observant), I was enthralled by these people. It was there that I learned to distrust anything labeled “feminism.” Feminism was a derogatory term reserved for people perceived as man-hating lesbians who wanted to wipe out the male population and figure out a way to make babies without them–or possibly not make babies at all and wipe out the human race. (Your guess is as good as mine regarding the logic there.) The term “feminiazi” was commonplace, and I learned that women who were pastors were leading their congregations astray with goddess worship.

I soaked in these messages so thoroughly that when I went to college, I never questioned them. I believed that women should not be pastors and didn’t flinch when one friend mocked a woman who came to speak about feminism at a chapel service. I didn’t even notice the subtle ways that male privilege dominates Christian culture. Even when it was pointed out to me in bold, I didn’t want to believe it.

Somewhere along the line, something changed. Perhaps the beginning was when I refused to use the word “obey” in my wedding vows; I don’t know. For the first eight years of our marriage, I coasted. There weren’t strict rules for men and women at that church, and in that denomination women are often elders and pastors. I let go of some of the notions I’d previously held, but there was otherwise no real need to think about feminism.

And then.

We spent seven years in a different denomination. I learned just how steeped in patriarchy the conservative evangelical church (not just that one, I mean as a whole) is. I learned about victim-blaming, slut-shaming, misogyny, and the ways in which women are dominated. I learned that some men think they can say, “I love women! Women are wonderful!” and “Women are not equal to men!” in the same breath and have it be okay because that attitude is just accepted. I learned that women who are victimized should not ever seek help from the church. I learned that the roles of women are Commandments, and as such, can be adhered to in a legalistic way.

At a very low point (shortly before the stories of abuse were coming out of Mark Driscoll’s church), I knew that neither my daughter nor I–and, I have since learned, my son–would survive in that environment without help. By that point, my faith was hanging on by a thread. I turned back to feminism, hoping to find some answers among strong women of faith.

There was so much more out there than I expected.

I discovered many women (and some men)–both Christian and not–who were leading lives of integrity and standing up together against patriarchy and misogyny. I learned that when we fight these institutions, men benefit too. I found the courage to admit to my husband that I simply couldn’t be part of a religious community that relied on patriarchal suppositions. I made new friends and had the privilege of working on projects with some wonderful people. I began to read and write with my eyes wide open to how women are perceived in our stories.

The last year and a half or so has been a learning experience. The voices and faces of feminism are beautifully varied, and I value each person’s contribution to this tapestry we’re weaving. I have been privileged to interact with some of the most interesting, intelligent, witty, grace-filled people I’ve ever met. The best part is knowing that we are working together to create a better world for future generations.

What has feminism meant for you? What are your experiences?

What Ariel taught me about feminism

Culture, Movies, Women

Last week, Twitter, Facebook, and the blogosphere exploded after Beyoncé’s Super Bowl halftime show. I’m not really interested in revisiting the subject or trying to defend her. I’m not going to reopen the conversation about whether or not her performance was inappropriate. What I am actually interested in is a side topic that came up as a result: Women taking back our bodies and claiming our right to defy the cultural expectations on our womanhood, and how that looks for different people.

Bear with me, I need to make a side venture. Those who know me well know that I love Disney movies. I’m particularly fond of the newer Pixar films, but I do love some of the classic animated features. I even enjoy the old fairy tale movies, complete with Prince Charmings, fairy godmothers, and Princesses-in-the-Making. Within that context, there are definitely some stories I enjoy more than others.

To this day, The Little Mermaid remains one of my favorite films of all time*. As I’ve ventured deeper into feminist waters, I finally recognize what it is about Ariel that I find so compelling. She is, in a way, a picture of a woman claiming her power over herself and her future. Sure, we could (and should) have a conversation about the more problematic elements of the movie, including Ariel’s rail-thin body and the fact that the Sea Witch’s use of overt sexuality is viewed as negative. But ultimately, what matters to me is that there are some striking metaphors that make the feminist in me do her happy dance.

Ariel is not a plucky or spunky “tomboy princess.” She is intelligent and curious, cultivating a hobby of her own rather than being confined to the role she’s been given. She bucks the patriarchal norms set for her and seeks to create her own destiny. She is physically fit and strong, rescuing Prince Eric from drowning and pulling him to safety–but instead of feeling emasculated by this, he is enchanted. When Ariel is voiceless, she still retains her ingenuity and creativity. Her true friends accept her for who she is and trust her to make her own decisions. They help her–and she accepts their help–when the occasion arises. She and Prince Eric are equals; when they have to fight for their lives and the lives of those they love, they do it together (which is a rare thing in Disney films). And in the end, instead of her father continuing to make choices for her, he accepts that she is her own woman and capable of knowing what she wants. (Unlike in Aladdin, where the Sultan simply changes the rules to suit his daughter–while still having to have rules–Triton actually acknowledges Ariel’s decision-making skills have merit of their own.)

Although Ariel isn’t directly asserting her control over her sexuality (it’s a children’s cartoon movie, after all), she is challenging the standards to which women are held when it comes to autonomy. This was the takeaway for me from Beyoncé’s performance as well. Here is a woman–bright, creative, and with solid knowledge of who she is–claiming her power over her own body.

There are so many ways that we, as women, can reclaim ourselves. This might be in terms of bodily autonomy and sexuality; it might be our functional roles within marriage, family, and the church; it might be a challenge to what is considered ladylike behavior. Sarah Moon said it best in regard to “flaunting” our sexuality and expressing ownership of ourselves:

When I feel defiant, I usually chose my baggy cargo pants. Yeah, world. Don’t care if women are supposed to exist to be pretty and be looked at as if our bodies are public property. My body. MINE. But I also “flaunt” my sexuality in other ways (like talking about it on my blog or being an advocate for sexual health) that say, I can hide my body from who I want AND share it with who I want because it’s mine so THERE. I think autonomy and self-expression are what’s important…not what someone is actually wearing.

I don’t tend to exert my power through the way I dress, but I do use my words. I write with ferocity when I’m passionate; I talk about things women aren’t supposed to discuss; I swear sometimes (admit it–the word fuck is just dead useful now and again). But there is something that is considered unladylike about using such coarse language. I have been told that it’s not “appropriate” for Christians or that I could say the same thing with some other word. I’ve been told that I’m not “polite” when I’m angry about injustice. I’ve been told to be more gentle and that I’ll “catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” Here’s the thing, though: This is my way of fighting back against the idea that being a Christian woman means that my words must always reflect “niceness.” This is me, claiming my power and using it.

You, too, have autonomy. Your body, your words, your mind, your heart–they all belong to you**. Not the church, not the government, not other people: you. You can share or hide any of those things as you choose. The decision is entirely yours. Today, how will you live your life in a way that honors your autonomy?

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

*I’m talking specifically about the film, not the Hans Christian Anderson story (which I don’t like much).

**I understand that most Christians believe that they also belong to God and that God and others should also be honored in how we carry ourselves. I’m not meaning to step on that, but I fully believe that sometimes honoring God and others means reclaiming our power and acting as we are called–even when patriarchy says no.

The Destruction of Men

Notable News: Week of February 23-March 1, 2013

FemFest: The road behind and the road ahead

FemFest: A gift for my children

FemFest: What Feminism Means to Me

What Ariel taught me about feminism

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