Bad Feminist
For a long time, the only thing keeping me from a subscription to Bust has been my steadfast refusal to consider myself a feminist.
I don't know quite how to explain it. I worked on a pro-choice campaign (yeah, yeah, stereotype, but that's my point--read on). I believe strongly in equal pay for equal work. I bristle at the thought of only 16 (16!) female Senators in this country. My boyfriend knows well enough not to get me started on the linguistic implications of "homewrecker" and "whore" (neither of which has an appropriate male equivalent). I once wrote an essay about the inequalities perpetuated by English's lack of a gender-neutral third-person pronoun. Hearing the word "cunt" sends me into a Hulk-like rage, complete with sputtering and clothes-ripping. Okay, maybe just the sputtering, and I know the Hulk didn't sputter, but you get the point.
BUT. I think a lot of sexual harassment claims are overblown. The campus women's group vaguely irritates me (which is what keeps me from joining). I shave my legs every day, whether anyone's going to see them or not. I hate being called a woman--I'm still just a girl. I worry (too much!) about my figure, though it embarrasses me to admit it. I also secretly enjoy having had traditionally feminine jobs, secretary and waitress, and feminized my other previous job as a cashier by referring to myself as a shopgirl. I love when men open doors for me. When I wait tables, I have never considered the customers' mild flirting degrading; I always find it innocuous and occasionally flattering. That said, reaching behind my back and untying my apron strings does not count as flirting, Dirty Old Man of Christmas Eve 2005. That was just creepy.
I guess I dislike the feminist label because I don't want it to be necessary. I'd rather just ignore the whole thing, put it behind us, and live my life secure in the idea that Career-Driven and Devoted Mother are not somehow incompatible ideals. I can't decide if this attitude is progressive and empowering or simply hiding from the truth of it all.
After all, I remember with great distaste the Drum-Off during my freshman year of high school. At the time, I was the only female percussionist in the school band with any real chops, which is to say, the only one who refused to play Girl Percussion (you know--bells, marimba, the godforsaken tambourine). I had inherited the trap set, taking the spot from a senior who had graduated. As I learned to navigate the drum kit, I was understandably nervous, and somehow the rest of the band decided that I had somehow wrangled the seat unfairly. The director had appointed me as the trap player since I was first chair, but the whispering that the second-chair was better than I was grew louder. I finally asked a friend why everyone assumed the second-chair would be better, and she confessed to me, "I guess what people are saying is...well, you're a girl." Finally, the director got fed up and scheduled a public Drum-Off between the two of us. I soundly kicked his ass. For further emphasis, our director opened the spot to any other band member, and a few of the trombone boys embarrassed themselves mightily. I grew comfortable, even showing up guys from other schools during tournaments, and I'm totally getting off-track here.
For digression's sake, I'd also like to add that when we got a new band director two years later, he quickly relegated me to Girl Percussion, despite the fact that I held that first chair spot easily. (I still resent that, Pasty Band Guy.) He maintained that I was the only one who could play the timpanis, but they're not difficult, so I still don't understand the logic. I'm not going to blame sexism, though. He still let me play marching snare and lead the drumline, so I don't know what his obsession with me and Girl Percussion was. And yes, I know the concept of Girl Percussion is sexist. But look at the college drumlines sometime--you'll find maybe one female snare. A couple of bass drums, perhaps, but the girls tend to be on cymbals and xylos. So Girl Percussion will remain my private name for it, and I'll just have to deal with my own latent sexism.
Anyway, back to my point. I don't know what the hell to make of feminism. I've long privately referred to myself as an "equalist" rather than taking on all the stereotypical connotations. I'm not anti-feminist; that's not it. If anything, I guess I'm just a feminist in denial.
All that said, no, I didn't support Hillary. I voted Obama. I believe with all my heart that America's ready for a female president, but I didn't think it was this female. I'd list all the carefully thought-out, heartfelt reasons if the mere thought of talking about the nomination didn't make my pupils contract and my blood pressure spike dangerously. But I know for damn sure that the following makes me bristle, and not just because I hate Chris Matthews with every quark of my being:
And then again, I found the link in this mostly wonderful article, and all I could think was, "So liking Sex and the City automatically makes me a vapid, consumerist faux-feminist drinking from the Cosmopolitan-flavored font of 'bubbling idiocy'?"
I don't know quite how to explain it. I worked on a pro-choice campaign (yeah, yeah, stereotype, but that's my point--read on). I believe strongly in equal pay for equal work. I bristle at the thought of only 16 (16!) female Senators in this country. My boyfriend knows well enough not to get me started on the linguistic implications of "homewrecker" and "whore" (neither of which has an appropriate male equivalent). I once wrote an essay about the inequalities perpetuated by English's lack of a gender-neutral third-person pronoun. Hearing the word "cunt" sends me into a Hulk-like rage, complete with sputtering and clothes-ripping. Okay, maybe just the sputtering, and I know the Hulk didn't sputter, but you get the point.
BUT. I think a lot of sexual harassment claims are overblown. The campus women's group vaguely irritates me (which is what keeps me from joining). I shave my legs every day, whether anyone's going to see them or not. I hate being called a woman--I'm still just a girl. I worry (too much!) about my figure, though it embarrasses me to admit it. I also secretly enjoy having had traditionally feminine jobs, secretary and waitress, and feminized my other previous job as a cashier by referring to myself as a shopgirl. I love when men open doors for me. When I wait tables, I have never considered the customers' mild flirting degrading; I always find it innocuous and occasionally flattering. That said, reaching behind my back and untying my apron strings does not count as flirting, Dirty Old Man of Christmas Eve 2005. That was just creepy.
I guess I dislike the feminist label because I don't want it to be necessary. I'd rather just ignore the whole thing, put it behind us, and live my life secure in the idea that Career-Driven and Devoted Mother are not somehow incompatible ideals. I can't decide if this attitude is progressive and empowering or simply hiding from the truth of it all.
After all, I remember with great distaste the Drum-Off during my freshman year of high school. At the time, I was the only female percussionist in the school band with any real chops, which is to say, the only one who refused to play Girl Percussion (you know--bells, marimba, the godforsaken tambourine). I had inherited the trap set, taking the spot from a senior who had graduated. As I learned to navigate the drum kit, I was understandably nervous, and somehow the rest of the band decided that I had somehow wrangled the seat unfairly. The director had appointed me as the trap player since I was first chair, but the whispering that the second-chair was better than I was grew louder. I finally asked a friend why everyone assumed the second-chair would be better, and she confessed to me, "I guess what people are saying is...well, you're a girl." Finally, the director got fed up and scheduled a public Drum-Off between the two of us. I soundly kicked his ass. For further emphasis, our director opened the spot to any other band member, and a few of the trombone boys embarrassed themselves mightily. I grew comfortable, even showing up guys from other schools during tournaments, and I'm totally getting off-track here.
For digression's sake, I'd also like to add that when we got a new band director two years later, he quickly relegated me to Girl Percussion, despite the fact that I held that first chair spot easily. (I still resent that, Pasty Band Guy.) He maintained that I was the only one who could play the timpanis, but they're not difficult, so I still don't understand the logic. I'm not going to blame sexism, though. He still let me play marching snare and lead the drumline, so I don't know what his obsession with me and Girl Percussion was. And yes, I know the concept of Girl Percussion is sexist. But look at the college drumlines sometime--you'll find maybe one female snare. A couple of bass drums, perhaps, but the girls tend to be on cymbals and xylos. So Girl Percussion will remain my private name for it, and I'll just have to deal with my own latent sexism.
Anyway, back to my point. I don't know what the hell to make of feminism. I've long privately referred to myself as an "equalist" rather than taking on all the stereotypical connotations. I'm not anti-feminist; that's not it. If anything, I guess I'm just a feminist in denial.
All that said, no, I didn't support Hillary. I voted Obama. I believe with all my heart that America's ready for a female president, but I didn't think it was this female. I'd list all the carefully thought-out, heartfelt reasons if the mere thought of talking about the nomination didn't make my pupils contract and my blood pressure spike dangerously. But I know for damn sure that the following makes me bristle, and not just because I hate Chris Matthews with every quark of my being:
And then again, I found the link in this mostly wonderful article, and all I could think was, "So liking Sex and the City automatically makes me a vapid, consumerist faux-feminist drinking from the Cosmopolitan-flavored font of 'bubbling idiocy'?"
posted by Allison at
2:16 AM
6 Comments:
Jesus, before I read on, what's happened to the layout ? Can we help ?!
Hee. I gothified a bit, didn't I? To be entirely truthful (and sound obsessive-compulsive), I had to change the layout because I didn't know enough HTML to fix the last one. Namely, the spacing between sentences was too small, and the lack of spacing after periods was driving me not. I wish I was kidding. Oh, and then I cleaned up the sidebar.
The black? I'm not quite sure. I had just discovered how to invert the color on my iBook, so I was rather taken with white on black at the moment. Is it a bit oppressive? I would be more than happy to switch the layout. I still think the sidebar is too wide.
Oh. I had not noticed, or I did and forgot about it. Maybe it's a font thing, I don't think there's a way to define the amount of space after a period, either with html or css, or I never encountered it before.
Yeah, that all-black layout might be oppressive a bit and... generic ? Buuuut... it's your space ! Knock yourself out with the white on black thing. Hopefully you'll find something you like later.
As for the sidebar width, search for "#content", "#main" and "#sidebar" in your stylesheet. See their respective widths: 660px, 410px and 220px ? You can change the numbers to make the sidebar smaller and the entries column wider. Numbers must add up or the two things won't be side by side anymore. I can't test so I hope I don't break anything. The 10px difference accounts for the padding in the middle.
Well I like the black. I had a black theme once upon a time so I can see the draw of it. Goth or not. Plus, as I said ^^ up there ^^ somewhere on another post, I feel special with my magic Mac capabilities.
Back to the topic at hand though. I know exactly what you mean about reluctance toward being labeled a feminist. It's depressing that the word has becomes so much of a caricature that a person feels immediately compelled to describe what sort of feminist they're definitely not.
You're very brave to write about it. The more ardent (extremist) supporters of feminism, I know a few, know Google like the back of their hand for the sole purpose of hunting down and opening a can of whoop ass on ye of little faith.
The diehard folks in any movement on the internet frighten me. They send out a scout and then the whole nest swarms. It's gruesome. Few survive.
And a fellow band nerd! You're right, the different sections of my high school band were segregated that way. Flutes, clarinets, oboes, bassoons, french horns: girl instruments. Drums, trombones, trumpets, baritones, tubas, and anything to do with jazz: left to the guys. There was one girl in the whole of our drumline and she managed to score the huge bass drum (that's the technical term I've given it) one year and the quads the next. She was definitely the outlier in the usual band model.
And in a moment of supreme band dorkdom.. I'm so going to see a DCI performance this summer. I may go incognito so no one knows I've reverted back to my marching band days.
And thus ends my length spiel.
Gwyn--I loves you. Loveyouloveyou. And yes, I remember when you used Minima Black; I liked it then, and I thought immediately of your old site when I picked it. Also, I really do want to thank you for all your understanding and support and feminist musings and band geekdom. For years now, you have been one of my favorite parts of blogging.
Nohae--Thank you! I am suddenly a much happier blogger now that I have fixed my widths. I agree, though. The new layout is both slightly oppressive and decidedly generic. There was a time when I experimented much more with HTML, but I have gotten lazy in my old age. As you noted, it will do for now. Secondly, is your Blogger site at all public? I don't know how to ask, but I am interested if you ever feel like sharing.
Aww thank you! You've always got a friend in me. No problem.
I think you were the first person to read my blog who I didn't go to school with so thanks very much for all your support as well. It means a lot.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home