An "Interesting" Weekend
Monday, April 21, 2008

It all started on Friday, when I put up my "Blog for Fair Pay Day" post.

The first thing that happened was that an anonymous source (no, really, a real anonymous source!!!! ZOMG!!! -- just check the comments if you don't believe me!) informed me that "the wage gap is a myth". (Wow. Aren't you relieved?)

I spent a little time (a very little time) addressing this troll commenter, and I must admit that I was a bit perplexed, because my readership here is usually very small, and while my readers sometimes disagree with me, it's very rare that someone comes along spouting Warren Farrel-esque ridiculousity. Occasionally, the stray troll has followed me home from Shakesville (*cough-cough*randyson/jasper*), but usually, it's smooth and responsible communication here at Chez Portly.

A couple of hours later, I got three comments on my "Robbing the Hearts of Men" post (which is nearly 6 weeks old -- don't bother trying to find them -- I deleted them immediately) -- suffice it to say that they were lovely bon-mots such as "fat hairy-legged pervert" (the mildest of the three), and I found myself wondering:

"Hmmm? Have I done anything particularly controversial today? Or yesterday? Or in the last week?"

My regular readers will know that I have not only not done much controversial blogging in the last two weeks, but that I've barely been blogging at all (*fighting the urge to apologize*).

It's times like these that site-meter is your friend.

I checked my visit history, and sure enough -- Robbing the Hearts of Men had been linked to by no less a "Men's Rights" luminary than Glenn Sacks. (And no, I will not link to his site -- not if you threaten me with wild dogs and fingernails on blackboards.)

Mr. Sacks said, in his post, that he does like to compliment feminists when they try to be fair and understanding -- so he began his post with this highly complimentary line:

"Misguided feminists do occasionally acknowledge the problems men face in our society, under the rubric of PHMT (Patriarchy Hurts Men Too)."

Oh goodie.

I visited Sack's post, read through the comments thread (highly NOT recommended that you do that), and left a comment requesting that Mr. Sacks encourage his readers to visit my blog respectfully, or that he refrain from live-linking to my blog.

Sacks emailed me his response (and posted it in the comment thread), and I went back to his blog (didn't I tell you this was highly NOT recommended?!?!), and was treated to the following lovely stuff in comments (these are just the highlights):

In the comments to his post, I was called:

Fallacious, Dishonest, Irrational, Irrelevant, Misguided, Angry, and Morally Superior.

I was told that my perspective is not legitimate, that I "hate myself", that I have a "fundamentally flawed and hateful position", that I "played the race card" (because I stated that I considered myself as having privilege by virtue of being white), and I was suspected of being conniving and dishonest (writing the original post just so I could later say "Hey, at least I tried.")

Here are some choice quotes:

"Yeah, don't you believe it. The first time she's pissed at someone that's been vulnerable in front of her, she'll attack him for it too."

"This writer is making the same assumption that all feminists make. Female = Good : Male = Bad.
All female attributes are good and all male are bad."

"this woman has a purely gynocentric world view."

"this whole essay a backhanded insult"

"I do get annoyed when feminists pretend to be concerned about men. Frankly, it's an insult to my intelligence to expect me to accept mock sympathy and not be able to see their true agendas."

"If she can't take having her fallacies (or dishonesties) pointed out she should go to a girl's site [emp. mine] where she can get highbrow responses like "Wow! Awesome" and "Right On!". With opponents of such low calibre it should be obvious to anyone that the only reason feminism has come so far is because previous generations of men didn't bother fighting back."

One of the most interesting things (to me) was that many of the commenters made the case that men did not display emotion because that's "just how men are".

Even more interestingly, this line of reasoning was nearly always immediately followed up with a sentence about how women won't sleep with men who display emotion.

I hate to break it to them, but if these guys are having a problem getting laid, I think that the problem probably isn't about how much emotion they do or do not express, but maybe, just maybe . . . .

. . . . . it might have to do with how they talk to women?

The ultimate irony in all of this is that I also dealt with some intense reactions from feminists in comment threads on that particular post (and the follow-up post) over at Shakesville.

So, my trip to Sacks-ville was very educational (and, thankfully, very brief). Here's what I learned/got out of it:

I discovered newfound compassion for those feminists I know who dismiss MRAs out of hand in comment-threads, and are unwilling to extend any benefit of doubt to them, because they have experienced precisely what I experienced -- men who deny that misogyny exists -- while simultaneously actively demonstrating it. Some of these feminists have experienced far worse -- from DDOS attacks on their blogs, to death and rape threats in their email inboxes and postal mailboxes. It was a time when I felt very glad that I was blogging anonymously (or as anonymously as possible).

There were a few people who commented at Sack's in a reasoned, respectful tone (seriously -- like, a few -- as in -- three). There were even a couple who defended me, or said something like: "Well, it's a start."

Here's the thing -- Not only do nearly all of the people commenting at Glenn Sacks' site believe that institutionalized misogyny does not exist -- many, if not most, of them believe that women actually have MORE rights than men do in our society.

They honestly believe this.

(And what I wouldn't do for some "Freaky Friday" soul/body-swapping powers about now.)

Now, I'm an optimist. I believe that humans can change. In an instant.

I believe this because I have changed. In an instant.

So, I thought, "Well, maybe I just touched some nerve -- I'll go to the front page of the blog and see if there's anything that I DO agree with." (How Many Times Do I Have to TELL you, Portly -- this is highly NOT recommended!?!?!?!?)

OK, so the front page had a article about a guy who killed his ex-wife and shot the judge who ordered him 50% custody and 20% alimony payments. To his credit, Sacks was posting the video of the session before the judge that preceded the murder and murder-attempt, apparently intending to get some of his readers to stop apologizing for the guy as they had apparently done in a previous comment-thread.

What was in the comments (and in the comments from the previous thread) shocked me to my core. There were MRAs who not only excused the man's behavior, but claimed that violence of this nature was necessary.

"He killed the childs mother and took away both of his child parrents. I have no sympathy for that. If he had killed the judge only I would be sending him flowers and my judges home address."

"It may well take a lot more killings similar to this for the court system and lawmakers to come to the realization that they screwed up and need to make a change.
Simply put one man with a bullet can create more change than a thousand with protest signs.
Take that any way you want."

Wow.

Oy.

As I said, it was an "interesting" weekend -- and my visit to MRA-land taught me a lot (kind of like how wading in the run-off from the nuclear power station can teach you -- not to wade in the run-off from the power station . . . . ever again).

Because I like to understand things, I've been attempting to wrap my brain around this particular group and their philosophy. So far, my brain doesn't seem to be big enough to quite wrap around it (that's prolly cuz I'm a woman, and my brain is so "low-calibre", dontcha know), but I'll update you if I get any insights.

*Disclaimer: If you get all curious and google this shit and end up on that comments thread, I'll just say, I warned you -- Highly NOT Recommended.*

Posted byPortlyDyke at 2:19 AM 21 comments  

Labels: Blogging, Feminism, Gender, Teh Internet, Trolls

Equal Pay -- 45 Years Later
Friday, April 18, 2008

In 1963, Congress passed the Equal Pay Act, which stated:

(d) (1) No employer having employees subject to any provisions of this section shall discriminate, within any establishment in which such employees are employed, between employees on the basis of sex by paying wages to employees in such establishment at a rate less than the rate at which he pays wages to employees of the opposite sex in such establishment for equal work on jobs the performance of which requires equal skill, effort, and responsibility, and which are performed under similar working conditions

Gee, that sounds so . . . . How shall I say it? . . . . . Egalitarian? Utopian? Lofty?

No.

How about: Simple. Logical. Fair. A No-Brainer.

The statistics below are for all women and men in the USA:

In 1970, women, on average, earned 61 cents for every dollar men earned.
In 1985, women earned 65 cents for every dollar men earned.
In 2000, women earned 74 cents for every dollar men earned.
Today, women earn 77 cents for every dollar men earn.

On average, African-American women earn 63 cents, and Latinas earn 52 cents for every dollar paid to white men today.

Which starts to look . . . . how shall I say it? . . . . .

Oh, I know! -- Stupid. Sexist. Racist. UNFAIR.

In the nearly half-a-century since Congress momentarily snapped out of its somnambulant haze and decided to address one of the most glaring evidences of institutionalized sexism, women have gained an overall average of 16 cents/dollar in wage equity.

Before you get out the champagne and start reminding me that this is progress, let's put it into perspective, shall we?

The gains that have been made toward overall pay equity since the EPA passed in 1963 calculate out at a rise of a third of a penny per year -- and women are still making 23% less than men.

Let's talk about that in real terms.

Take the median income of the US population -- $44,334/year. Now, whack off that 23% -- which leaves you with an annual income of $34,138/year. Anybody want to take that pay cut?

Anyone want to work an extra 9.2 hours every week just to make up the difference?

Anyone? Anyone?

Right. I thought not.

I've had people (yes, usually men, but not always) tell me that feminism is no longer necessary, because women actually have equality now. I've even had people tell me that women have more rights than men in our society (yes, usually asshats Men's Rights Advocates, but not always).

What I want to say to them on this day -- Blog for Fair Pay Day -- is this:

You think that I, as a woman, have more rights than a man, and that women are now treated equally in our culture?

OK.

Let's swap.

I'll take that 23% pay increase, and you can have all my "extra" rights (along with, of course, all the other misogynist, sexist crap that I've dealt with in my life).

So, do we have a deal?

(On a serious note, there is action for you to take regarding equal pay for women -- visit the National Women's Law Center and read about the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, contact your Senators, and Blog for Fair Pay today, April 18th, 2008.)

h/t to Shark-fu at AngryBlackBitch, whose blog is not to be missed.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 1:00 AM 14 comments  

Labels: Feminism, Gender, Politics

I'll Do It
Sunday, March 9, 2008

Recently, I wrote a post about one of the ways I think men are damaged by sexism and misogyny. I was surprised at the number of feminist women (I think they were all women, but I may be wrong about that) who assumed that I was somehow asking them to take responsibility for the healing of this damage, or that I had somehow implied that this damage was the fault of feminism. I read and reread my post to see if/where I might have even slightly intimated such a thing, and I honestly couldn't find it.

I understand feminist women's anger at the patriarchal system, and at men (and women) who participate in sexism and misogyny. I understand their fatigue and impatience in the seemingly glacial movement toward change (teaspoon by teaspoon), and I understand why they feel like they're the only ones doing anything about it.

I understand it because I've been there, with my own anger, and fatigue, and impatience, and loneliness, and feelings of futility.

At one point in my life, I lived on lesbian separatist land for three years -- land where men were literally not allowed to set foot on the property without the full advance consensus of every woman living there -- because I needed a complete respite from the rigors of life as a woman in patriarchal society (or as much of a respite as I could possibly get). I believe that this retreat into women-only space was also a very necessary part of my healing process as a survivor of severe abuse.

I don't want any woman whose level of exhaustion with (or simple personal choice not to engage in) the "education of men about feminism" to engage in that activity.

I fully agree that it's not any woman's responsibility to educate men (or even other women) about sexism and misogyny, just as it's not a person of color's responsibility to educate white people about racism.

But . . . I'll do it.

I'll do it, not because it's my responsibility, but because it's my choice.

I'll do it because I believe that no human being is "born" sexist, misogynist, racist, classist, or homophobic. They are born into societies that are sexist, misogynist, racist, classist, and homophobic, and they are systematically trained to accept these systems , even though these systems are not truly natural to them.

I'll do it because I know that I didn't spring full-blown from the brow of the Goddess Diana as a Paragon of Feminism one day. I spent years un-learning a lifetime of conditioning toward self-hatred, self-devaluation, and gender-role entrainment. I had to awaken from the stupor that allowed me to miss subtle (and even grossly overt) misogyny in language and interaction, advertising, and the culture in general.

I'll do it because I realize that I am still doing this -- still unlearning -- still awakening, and I need other people to help give me new eyes and ears to help me see and hear what I've missed because I was born into a culture so saturated with sexism and misogyny that the forest is obscured among the trees.

I'll do it because I know that seeing the problem in the forest is even more difficult when you're not one of the trees that is slated for the saw-mill -- because without the help of friends and associates who are people of color, I would probably not have begun to lift the few teaspoons that I have in examining my own racism and white privilege -- without the help of friends and associates who are transsexual, I would probably not have been able to begin to etch away at the boulder of transphobia that is in me.

I'll do it because it wasn't their responsibility to educate me -- but they did. They bothered with me -- they held me as capable of change -- and I have profound gratitude that they took their time and energy to do so, and that they continue to invest that time and energy to do so -- and if, one day, they choose to stop, and tell me that they are exhausted and need a break from hanging out with my privileged, slow-learning, white/cisgendered ass, I will respect that completely, and my gratitude will not be diminished.

I'll do it, not because I think it's the "right" thing to do, not because I think that men are incapable of getting educated without me, not because anyone "needs" me to do it, or because I think I'll get some "Really Good Person" award (in my head or from someone else) -- in fact, I'll do it even if other people think I'm being a "really bad person" for doing it.

I'll do it because it's the only thing that makes sense to me right now, from my current life perspective and understanding of how things work (or at least, how they have worked for me) -- and I'll do it as long as I think that it's a logical, rational avenue of action -- as long as I see benefit in it, and I don't think of it, or feel it, as a burden.

I'll do it because I want to.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:40 PM 7 comments  

Labels: Feminism, Gender

Robbing the Hearts of Men
Friday, March 7, 2008

It's long been my view that sexism and misogyny do every bit as much damage to men as to women.

Before you go all Outraged-Feminist on my ass -- read on, please.

I believe that the very things that men complain about -- needing to be "the strong one", "the provider", the "bread-winner" -- are a direct result of sexism and misogyny which attempts to cast human beings in rigid gender-based roles from which they believe they cannot escape.

I believe that the very things that men complain about -- feeling under- or un-appreciated, misunderstood, or unseen -- are compounded by the fact that the gender-based role of the guy is to be "strong and silent" -- to "suck it up and be a man" -- because, if he's doing that, how the fuck are we supposed to know what's going on inside him?

Yes, I believe that men have "privilege" over women -- no matter what their stratum on the great pyramid of oppression -- poor men generally still possess privilege more than poor women, black men generally still possess privilege more than black women, etc. (and yes, I know there are exceptions, but I am consciously choosing to speak in cultural generalities -- So sue me!).

However, I think that, at the level of basic existence as a human being, any privilege obtained by being male in this culture is probably cold comfort when you consider the real toll that sexism and misogyny take on those who identify as, or are considered Man/Male/Men/Males.

Here's one of the ways that I believe this toll is taken:

In our society (at least), the following traits are considered primarily "female/womanly":
Tender, Emotional, Vulnerable, Receptive, Passive, Compassionate.

(OK -- you can argue with me about this if you want, but I challenge you to ask 10 people who you know to listen to these words read aloud -- without prepping them beforehand about the context of your query -- and ask them to assign the words as either Male or Female. I'm not saying that this is "what is so" about men and women, I'm saying that this is the overwhelmingly common cultural perception/expectation.)

This is where the toll is paid:

If you are living in a misogynist, sexist society where privilege is awarded automatically by virtue of manliness/maleness or perceived manliness/maleness, and therefore, being womanly/female is an undesirable (if not despicable) position, then you are going to work hard to avoid the culturally-acceptable traits of womanliness.

This, I believe, is one of the tragedies of sexism for men in our culture -- the abrogation of their right to "have a heart" -- a full-range emotional body.

Men feel -- because they're human. They experience moments of tenderness, and vulnerability, and emotion (yes, emotions other than rage) -- as well as moments of compassion, and receptivity, and passivity.

The problem is: They can't express that without looking like a woman. Which, in a sexist, misogynist society, would be a bad thing. A thing that loses you jobs, and gets you called "pussy", and "mangina", and subjects you to suggestions that you "sit to pee" -- which would all be BAD, because being anything like a woman/female human is BAD.

Bad and wrong.

Eve-In-The-Garden-Bad-Apple Wrong.

Condemning-The-Entire-Human-Race-To-An-Awful-Existence Wrong.

This is one of the tolls of sexism and misogyny for men -- they are robbed of their hearts.

Which to me, is tragic.

My father is 81 now, and 17 years ago, just after his retirement, I went with him and my mom to see the movie "The Doctor". The theater was crowded, so I sat in a seat in the row directly in front of my mom and dad, and during the film, I heard this distinct sniffling behind me, and assumed it was my mom. As we left the theater, I noticed my dad's eyes were all swollen and puffy.

I said: "Were you the one who was crying?"

He replied: "Yeah. I don't know what it is. Ever since I retired, I just cry at almost anything . . . . . . . . It's kind of a relief."

I was curious about this. I understood that there was probably a very basic shift from needing to wear the "mask" (required of both men and women) in the work environment (being "businesslike" or "professional"=not showing emotion) -- but I suspected that there was something more.

Since one of the prime stereotypes of what it is to "be a man" in this society is that you are valued for the profession that you have, and the work you produce, it seems to me that my father's retirement from his profession was also, in some way, a resignation from some need to adhere to an entire range of stringent cultural expectations of maleness.

His softening has continued through the last 17 years, and he and I had a particularly sweet moment where we were both blubbing away together at a Little House on the Prairie re-run during a visit. Friends have reported similar "softening" in their elderly fathers.

Think about this the next time you hear someone say the words: "Be a man!"

Actually look at the situation in which this comes up, and think about what is being demanded. In my experience, it usually means: Shut up about your feelings. Grit your teeth and bear your pain and don't let anyone know you're feeling it. Don't show it on your face, don't talk about it, square your shoulders and your jaw and carry on like everything's OK -- hide it however you can.

That, to me, is unbearably sad.

Little boys who cry are "sissies" (aka -- "girl-like").

This wouldn't, and couldn't, be a problem if being a woman, or being like a woman, wasn't a very bad thing -- and training a human being to devalue someone else on a basis that truly, logically makes no sense at all (women by virtue of their physical anatomy, people of color by virtue of their skin color, queer people by virtue of their choice of who to have sex with) requires deep and continuous programming.

Boys cry. They cry from the moment they are born. If they didn't cry as infants, you'd worry about this.

The indoctrination required to train a human being out of one of the deepest human responses (emotionality) is a staggering task when you really think about it -- yet it is done, systematically and thoroughly -- male children are taught to control and suppress any emotion which falls outside the acceptable stereotypical range for "real men" from very early on -- and I believe that it is these stifled emotions in men which so often erupt in the only emotion that is consider "gender-appropriate" -- anger.

After all -- if you'd been denied the right to express the rest of the human emotional range (sad, bad, scared, etc.), don't you think you'd be a bit pissed off, too?

My male friends have reported, in moments of vulnerability, how intense the pressure to "be a man" can be -- how difficult it is for them to cry in front of other men (or in front of anyone) -- how much they fear being perceived as "weak" or passive. A straight, male friend went out last Halloween in drag, and reported that he felt unsafe the entire time he was in public -- because he was a virtual woman for the night.

Personally, I think that in a misogynist culture, one of the only things you can do that is worse than actually being a woman is to be/become a woman, or be/become like a woman. I believe that this is the reason that "sissies" are so often brutally targeted on the playground, and effeminate gay men and drag queens and jail-house punks are traditionally beaten severely and killed in hideous ways -- they have betrayed the privilege of maleness by daring to exhibit behaviors that make them like women.

(Similar punishment is doled out for women who dare to aspire to "manliness" -- think "Boys Don't Cry" -- but that's a different post entirely.)

Of all the ways that sexism and misogyny harm men, I honestly believe that this is the worst -- that men are expected by society to give up these crucial parts of their humanity -- their ability to connect with other human beings emotionally, to express their vulnerability and tenderness without being mocked, and to associate fully with their authentic selves.

This post was inspired by an email exchange that I had with a friend, in which we discussed recent flare-ups of what we both see as sexism and misogyny among men who we consider to be allies, and whether it was really possible for a man in our culture to fully embrace feminism. I found myself typing this:

"I believe that it is possible, but that it's difficult in the way that really deeply ingrained shit is difficult -- like healing from trauma.

In fact, I do think that men in our society are traumatized by sexism and misogyny -- they just haven't felt the wound yet, like someone who is dissociated -- and they're terrified of feeling it."

As much as I want my sisters to be able to walk the world in safety, with their full range of self honored and recognized, and their horizons broad and unhindered by misogyny, so, too, I want my brothers to be be able to walk the world in safety, with their full range of self honored and recognized, and their hearts wide open to the world, unhindered by misogyny.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:31 PM 19 comments  

Labels: Connection, Consciousness, Feminism, Freedom, Gender

A Little Saturday Night Comedy
Saturday, March 1, 2008

In the interest of combating sex-phobia, here's a tidbit -- (Disclaimer: I don't vouch for any of the rest of the "comedy" in Crackle's queue, and some of it was AWFUL, so you probably want to hit pause unless you're adventurous -- or bored -- or both).

Posted byPortlyDyke at 4:33 PM 1 comments  

Labels: Feminism, Gender, Sex

PMS Amnesia
Monday, February 4, 2008

Having a period is a very weird thing. (For any beings who, by virtue of their physical equipment, do NOT have and have never had periods, I'd like to say: Hang in there with me for a minute or two -- you might find this educational.)

I am a woman who is not yet post-menopausal. At 51, I'm still lingering in the limbo of what is quaintly termed: "perimenopause".

What perimenopause really means is: Your menstrual cycle has gone all Ninja on you.

I started having hot-flashes at 37 -- the same age that my mom entered perimenopause. For the next twelve years, I still had a period, and I had hot-flashes, (which is sort of like getting to have both zits and wrinkles).

For those of you who have not experienced a hot flash: Imagine being in Washington DC in late August.

Now, imagine being locked inside an economy sedan that's been sitting in direct sun at midday on a huge concrete pad . . . . . . without air-conditioning . . . . . . in Washington DC . . . . . in late August.

Add heat lamps.

Oh fuck it! Just imagine being made entirely of asbestos and sitting in the middle of a nuclear incinerator . . . .

Not that I'm complaining or anything.

This post is not, in fact, about perimenopause.

It's about PMS -- Pre-Menstrual Syndrome -- which is also Ninja-like, and which I also still have -- hence, the title: PMS Amnesia.

I figure that, in the 38 years that I had "regular" menstual cycles, I had at least 450 periods. My eggs were relentless, and orderly, and Mussolini-esque -- they made the trains run on time.

How is it, then, that month after month, I would fail to realize that 3 to 7 days prior to this remarkably predictable event, I would be completely, totally, and utterly convinced that my life was shit, my partner hated me, my career was in the toilet, and everyone was against me?

I mean, is there some special hormone that gives you a complete memory wipe about PMS, each and every month?

It's not like I didn't know my period was coming -- I was stocked for it:

"Tampons?"
"Check!"
"Maxi-Pads?"
"Check!"
"Heating Pad?"
"Check!"
"Enough pain-reliever to anesthetize a herd of bull-elephants?"
"Check!"
"Really ugly grandma underwear that doesn't bind around the waist?"
"Check!"

But PMS? Not only did I fail to recognize it as it arrived -- I would actually argue with people about the fact that it had already arrived:

ME: "I (sniffle) hate (trembling lip) my li-i-i-i-i-fe!"

GF: "Honey, do you think your period might be due?"

ME: "I knew you would discount me this way!!! You don't think any of the stuff I'm talking about is real!"

ME: (Two days later.) "Oh . . . Sorry."

The thing is, I rarely raged about nothing at all while I was in the throes -- in some ways, PMS was like being really, really drunk and having all the stuff that you'd been stuffing come rolling out of your mouth. Hormones are magical, that way.

I started this post about a week ago, and I kept stopping, because I realized that I didn't want to fuel the fucking fire about how women are crazy during "that time of the month" -- because I've recently seen so much disgusting sexism aimed at Hillary Clinton that I'm almost ready to vote for her in sheer protest, in spite of all my rational doubts about her platform.

Don't worry, I promise I won't "vote with my vagina" -- but it has been shouting at me a bit lately. (You should see it -- it's actually kind of cute when its lips get to flapping.)

Here's a thing that pisses me off: Nearly every woman on the planet has a period. Nearly every woman on the planet will go through menopause. Many women on the planet will bear children. Yet all of these things are remarkably under-studied and mysterious to mainstream medicine.

And while you can talk about your pregnancy --"When are you due!?" "Have you picked out a name?" -----

Wait -- let me qualify that: You can talk about your pregnancy up to the point when the blood and contractions turn the "bundle of joy" meme into an "edited for television" scenario. Woe betide you, however, if you speak in "mixed company" about the Dreaded Menstruation or the Unfathomable Menopause.

Recently, I had someone hold up their hand, palm-outward, in the universal "too much information" signal -- because I mentioned that I might not be all that perky today, as I had just gotten my period.

The section of the supermarket which holds "women's personal supplies" is generally labeled something like: "Sanitary Needs" (because you would never want to call it "Stuff for Your Period" or "Bleeding, Womany Things").

Personally, I've always had this kind of cringey response to the word "Menstruation" -- I suspect that this is a result of my cultural training. The invariably whispered tone in which this word was spoken evoked shame and loathing in me when I was growing up (plus, "Menstruation" has too many syllables and WAY too many vowels, as far as I'm concerned).

I have similar distaste for the many of the euphemisms that I heard while living on womyn's land: "Having My Moon/My Cycle", "In My Bloods", etc. -- I suppose that if I have to accept any euphemism, I prefer the one from Paper Moon:

"Havin' Her Lady's Time"

Except -- you have to say it like Imogene says it:



Did you see that there? That "Oh"?

I'm beginning to think that PMS Amnesia is directly tied to the fact that "Menstruation" (damn -- I just hate that word) is supposed to be hidden and ignored.

No wonder I forget that I have a period! The products that are supposed to keep me "sanitary" during my "time of uncleanness" (that's lovely, eh?) are hidden on a specially-coded aisle of the supermarket, I never see an ad on television, or receive massive email spam that might remind me that such a thing as a menstrual cycle exists (although I can watch men singing about Viagra on TV, and my inbox is a veritable Encyclopedia Dicktonia), and the ads that I might see that reference my period (in "women's" magazines) use words like "discreet", "protection", "fresh", and "odor-free" ('cuz you'd never, ever, ever want anyone to get a whiff of you and know you were having your period, for god's sake!).

Even the online Museum of Menstruation is called www.mum.org.

There are those who theorize that this type of enforced silence and body-shaming actually exacerbates PMS -- that if women in our culture were encouraged to accept and embrace their period as a sign of health and vitality, they wouldn't need to manifest PMS symptoms. I mean, what if PMS is really just a normal response to suppression? Where are the studies that compare cultures where women's cycles are respected and honored with culture where they are not? Oh . . . . . . right.

By now, you're probably wondering just what type of Portly True Story inspired this post.

Last week, I believe that I had PMS without the period -- which is exactly like an unpunctuated sentence

I would even go so far as to say that it is the ultimate in dangling participles.

My period has been in full-stealth mode for several years now -- arriving once every six months or so, usually after I have decided that I will never again need "sanitary products", and have entertained the idea of giving my rather impressive stash away to some more regularly periodic woman.

However, considering my period (or lack thereof) as a possible blog-post brought up many complex issues for me, and I found myself pondering, once again, the following conundrum (first posed to me by my spiritual teacher):

Why is it that, in our culture, we praise artists and writers who touch the "universal" in us, while simultaneously creating gigantic taboos around some of the most universal human experiences -- namely: Shitting, Peeing, Menstruating, Masturbating, and Sex?

Please discuss.

Extra credit question: When was the last time that you considered the fact that you, personally, came out of a body that had a menstrual cycle, and that, without that menstrual cycle, you would probably not exist?

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:20 PM 8 comments  

Labels: Feminism, Gender, Menopause, PMS, Sexism

To Sir, With Love
Saturday, December 8, 2007

If gender-stereotypes don't exist anymore . . . why am I still getting called "Sir"?

In recent discussions of my "Overheard at Safeway" (posted here and at Shakesville), some commenters said that they had been raised "gender-neutral" (one even referred to the "gender-neutral police"). Others posited that their male and female offspring were "just different" from day one, which seems to support the concept of innate differences between biologically male and biologically female humans.

Now, I am definitely "biologically female". I check out chromosomally and everything -- so why am I still getting called "Sir"?

(Warning -- some photos below may be NSFW.)

Exhibit A -- this is a photo of me snapped in September of this year (for Kate Harding's very excellent BMI illustration project):

Looking at this photo, you will undoubtedly notice right away that I am "obese" (I kid, of course -- but the BMI doesn't-- I'm obviously at death's door -- OK, I kid, again. Sorry -- this shit just cracks me up!).

You may have also noticed that I have short hair, and that I have a rather noticeable set of tatas (those are the things that are making bulges outward from my upper torso, and which gave rise to the now-infamous TWH^[tm] -- "Titty-Wrap Hug").

For those of you not "in the know" lesbionically, I am what is known as a "butchy" dyke.

Let me make it clear here that I am not a "stone butch", but I'm pretty butchy, and I always have been pretty butchy. It's been reported that I am "not butchy enough" for some dykes, and "too butchy" for others.

Que sera, sera.

(As a side-note, I just realized that when you include the word butchy many times in a single paragraph, it starts to look very strange. Butchy. Butchy. Butchy.)

There's the set-up.

The other day, when I was at the store, I was called "sir". Again.

As is usually the case, the person who sirred me, upon hearing me speak, became instantly flustered, apologized quickly, and then looked away -- as hard as they could.

This is not the first time that I have been called "sir" (nor, I imagine, the last). I used to get this a lot more than I do now, and I've pondered whether it was because my hair is slightly longer now than it used to be, whether I dress ever-so-slightly less butchy than in the past, or whether, since I gained weight, my tatas are even less avoidable than they were when I was a skinny little shit.

However, I don't think any of that is really the source of the gender-projection dysphoria that I seem to produce in strangers.

Here are some pictures of me from my past (click to enlarge):

During the time that these pictures were taken, I was sirred at least once a month (on average), even when I had hair down to my ass.


What you cannot see in any of these photos are these:

Face it -- they're kind of hard to miss, and they have been with me since age 13, at approximately the same size and shape (disclaimer: altitudinal coordinates have changed over time).

Do not click to enlarge this photo -- it's just not necessary.

My hypothesis is that it is not my hair, facial construction, or body type that results in me being genderized by strangers via a "masculine" form of address.

I am very short, my voice ranges from high-pitched to "annoyingly-squeaky" (depending on how much I've been smoking and how excited/upset I am), and my fashion choices (I'm using the term "fashion" very loosely here) are decidedly gender-neutral -- usually sweat-pants and a fleece shirt -- 90% of the time (OK, I'll come clean -- more like 97% of the time)

So, I don't think it is my physical appearance or dress -- I believe it is my manner and my mannerisms.

I speak loudly. I am brash and direct. My natural stance is "feet apart, arms akimbo" (think "Stands-with-a-Fist" -- but only if you can avoid thinking of Kevin Costner at the same time). I tend to look people directly in the eye, to stomp when I walk, and my stride is long and forward-moving rather than short and side-swaying.

And it's always been that way:

So how did this happen?

Nature? Nurture?

I've decided that it simply cannot be "Nurture": I was raised in a culture and a time when gender roles were far more stringently applied than they are today.

I was constantly admonished to keep my legs/feet together (even though no one bothered to explain to me that to do otherwise was either an open declaration of my slutitude, or an attempt to emulate a man).

I was repeatedly lectured on the appropriate toys/activities/body postures/vocal tones that fit with the following descriptors: "Feminine", "Girl-Stuff", and "Lady-Like".

Somehow, it just didn't take.

I'm going to argue again that the gender roles and expectations that many people would like to attach to chromosomal sexual status CAN NOT be scientifically proven as genetically pre-disposed -- even if you do extensive studies about how humans are supposed to be able to identify gender by gait patterns -- because gender-expectations and gender-roles are cultural, Cultural, CULTURAL!!!

(Oh, and have I mentioned that they're cultural?)

Let's take a fairly external item: Clothing.

Even though fashion in clothing is a phenomenon which is incredibly mercurial, changing literally year-to-year within our culture, there remain clothing-based stereotypes which invoke gender-roles and expectations, such as: "Who wears the pants in this family, anyway?"

Ask any English-speaking person in western culture what that means. They can probably tell you. (Hint: It has to do with Patriarchy.)

Even though pants are relatively new to western culture (introduced in Europe as an evolution of the "hose" worn by men in the 15th century), it has only been within my lifetime that the thought of women wearing pants in the US was down-graded from scandalous/possibly-culture-destroying to acceptable-but-not-really-feminine. (The demurely crossed ankles that you see in the photo above -- the one with me pouting on the porch -- are those of my grandmother in 1964, who wore "slacks" exactly once in her lifetime -- and only after my grandfather passed away, cuz God knows that would have killed him.)

You may want to say: "Oh, hey, Portly Dyke -- now that's 'a bridge too far'! ;) No one really thinks that pants are reserved for men anymore!"

Wanna bet?

Google the phrase: "women wear pants", and take a look at the ongoing debate about whether good Xtian women can wear a specific article of clothing without incurring God's wrath by violating Deuteronomy 22:5.

Oh, and just for good measure? Why don't you suggest to some "Masculist" that he "get back to his roots" and put on a pair of tights? I double-dog dare you.

Never mind that, at the time Deuteronomy 22:5 was written, the men in question weren't wearing pants (not to rub it in or anything, but they were wearing dresses), and a woman wearing pants wouldn't have had a problem with being mis-identified as a man and being punished for cross-dressing, so much as being annihilated because she was mistaken for a Scythian.

See, it's cultural. It's Cultural. It's CULTURAL!!!!!!

Gender identification/roles/expectations are incredibly flexible constructs. They change from generation to generation, from country to country, and from tribe to tribe.

Still don't believe me? Tell me: who's the man and who's the woman?

We all know that graceful, swaying motions, make-up to enhance the eyes and mouth, elaborate jewelry and headdresses are the province of women, don't we?

Tell it to the Wodaabe:


I "read" as "sir" in this culture, because of this culture's gender-role coding. I don't "cue" correctly for this culture's expectation of what a woman is supposed to sound like, walk like, act like, dress like. I don't cross my arms over my breasts when a man stares at them. I'm more likely to stare back and when he finally looks up, say: "Are you lookin' at me?" in my best DeNiro.

Truth be known, I don't even mind being "sirred" -- in fact, I prefer it to being "ma'amed" (which I think, sadly, testifies to my own internalized and culturally-coded misogyny).

I want to repeat again, in case anyone hasn't gotten this yet -- I'm not saying that it is impossible that there may be innate differences between biological males and biological females. I am saying that, until we can really perceive and understand our own cultural biases, assumptions, and projections about gender-roles, I don't believe that there is any way to perform empirical research on what, if any, those differences might be.

Which probably means that we need to have an extra-terrestrial to do the research for us:

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:30 PM 20 comments  

Labels: Gender, Overheard, Queers, True Stories, Very Personal Details

Overheard at Safeway
Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Yesterday, I was walking past the Starbuck's that is inside my local ginormous multi-national-corporation-owned grocery store (Starbuck's is in there because, apparently, it has been scientifically proven that if you are ever more than three blocks from a Starbuck's you will die. Horribly.)

Anyway, as I was wending my way through this Matryoshka of corporate enfoldments, my ear was caught by the following conversation between a mother and her barely-verbal child (maybe 18 months old, if that):

Mommy: "No, that's the little girl bear. See her pink pajamas?"
Baby: "Bahy Bear."
Mommy: "No, that's the girl bear. See, she has a pink bow!"
Baby: "Bahy Bear!"
Mommy: "Honey, that's a girl bear. Look! Isn't she pretty?"
Baby: "Grr Bear."
Mommy: "That's right! Good!"

Poor kid. She was probably just trying to say "Bye Bear!" as she attempted to express her radical Indigo-Child rage at the appalling love-spawn of corporate-whoredom and conspicuous-consumerism that is "The Bearista".

Then, when mommy proceeded with a full-on gender indoctrination mind-control program, Progressive Baby^[tm] finally responded with the appropriately savage: "Grrrrrr!!! Bear!" -- her tiny lip curling in disgust above perfect, pearly, milk-teeth.

Well, that's how it went down in my head, anyway.

I had just come from my office, where I had read Melissa's post about the critical importance of gender-appropriate microscopic color in scientific research conducted by children, so I was glad to see the incoming generation fighting the good fight by resisting these stereotypes.

Now, if only the caffeine in Mommy's triple-shot would wake her up.

It's well-documented that this type of programming begins from the very beginning of a child's life.

I raised two boys, and have had many discussions with other parents about whether there really is an inherent difference between male and female children-- but I believe that gender programming begins so early, and is stressed so strongly in our culture that I don't think we can ever know the real answer to that question.

I would even go so far as to say that gender expectations, roles, and programming begin long before the child arrives -- witness one of the most frequent questions a pregnant woman gets asked: "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl? What are you hoping for?" -- and the common response: "We're hoping for a boy/girl, but . . . ."

A friend of mine who desperately wanted to bear a child of her own said to me (after her third miscarriage) that this kind of talk really pissed her off -- she said: "I'm just hoping for a child. What difference does the gender make?"

Indeed -- what difference does the gender make?

In a culture that clings to the notion that men and women are innately different, which stubbornly insists that certain activities, color-schemes, careers, etc. are the "natural" province of one gender, and which actively steers children into "gender-appropriate" arenas or outright restricts their access to "gender-inappropriate" arenas, gender makes a lot of difference.

The very fact that we can say that we "hope for" a boy or a girl indicates to me that attachment to gender roles, and active programming to convince us that males "are" this way and females "are" that way, runs very, very deep -- and that most people are rarely even aware of it. I honestly don't think the Mommy at Starbucks had any consciousness at all of what she was doing -- I believe that she probably thought it was "natural".

However, the authentic resistance of Progressive Baby^[tm] reminded me that gender roles in our society are not some innate, universal human reality that arise from "how men/women ARE" -- they have to be constantly enforced and reinforced -- and even an 18-month old can see the absolutely arbitrary nature of the color-code that is being shoved down her throat -- she can see quite easily that the bears are identical in every respect -- only their outfits genderize them.

You may say: "Well what's the danger in pink microscopes and sewing machines for little girls, and blue microscopes and footballs for little boys? Where's the harm?"

No harm, I guess -- to offer various toys to kids -- except that I believe that when these items are specifically separated as being "for girls" and "for boys" -- they are telling kids: "This is your role."

I find it interesting that the gender separation at the Discovery Channel toy-site goes like this: No genderization at all from Infant to Age 4, then, gender-based categories for ages 5-7 and 8-12, then just "Teens and Adults". (I suspect that this is because they figure by age 12, the programming is either complete, or will never take.)

Imagine for a moment if we saw a website that had separate shopping areas "White boys - Age 8 to 12" and "Hispanic boys - Age 8 to 12" which did not contain the same toys. Let's say the white section had things like ATM machines and electronic 20 questions games, while the hispanic section had things like the "landscaping design kit" and miniature lawn-mowers, with a few cross-over items like the "Cube World Set", which touted:

• Set includes 2 cubes: Handy & Dusty or Mic & Hans
• Each stick character has a job. Handy (purple) is a handyman, Dusty (green) is a cleaner, Mic (pink) is a singer, and Hans (blue) is a fitness freak

We would not hesitate for a moment to say: "Wait a minute. The hispanic kids' toys are grooming them for a servant role." The offensiveness of racist icons such as Aunt Jemima and the Lawn Jockey is precisely this -- their message: "This is your role."

You may have a butt-clenchy moment there, as I compare gender-entrainment to racism. However, I believe that the connection is apt.

Effective Master/Servant oppression requires entrainment of both the prospective master and the prospective servant. It also creates an amazing tension, as the Master class recognizes, at some deep level, that it needs the Servant class, and goes to great length to convince the Servant class that this "need" is reciprocal (which is why the notion of an independent woman is so threatening to those who remain invested in Patriarchy).

I'd posit that, because of this, there are subtle differences between Master/Servant oppression (eg. racism/misogyny/classism) and Eradication oppression (eg. homophobia/antisemitism). The primary message of Master/Servant structures is "Know your place", while the primary message of Eradication structures is "Don't be that."

In either these structures, if you don't obey the prime directive, the result is usually the same: 1) Intimidation/Suppression, and when that doesn't work, 2) Violence, and when that doesn't work, 3) Expulsion and/or Extermination (so, if you resist, you end up at Eradication anyway. Joy).

I digress -- those last two paragraphs are another post entirely.

Back to Starbucks in Safeway -- that "dweam wifin a dweam": As I considered Mommy's mounting insistence, and Baby's mounting resistance (and then seeming acquiescence) I wondered: "Why the fuck does it matter so much that this tiny child get the roles right?"

I think that it matters so much because, of all the oppression structures that exist, Patriarchal Misogyny is the one with a global near-equity in terms of population ratios of Master-to-Servant, and it is an oppression structure that resides in the heart of the most intimate and pivotal place of individual life -- the home. So if she isn't groomed for her role, or if she doesn't adopt that role, the Master would feel it -- keenly, at the center of his life -- and the Patriarchy would, indeed, crumble.

Good.

Keep on keeping on, Progressive Baby.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 9:35 PM 10 comments  

Labels: Feminism, Gender, Overheard

Something-Only Space
Thursday, June 28, 2007

Shakespeare's Sister had a post about a Women-Only Beach today.

I have very ambivalent feelings about "women-only" space, or "men-only" space, or "anything-only" space.

Understand -- this comes from a woman (or womyn, should I say?) who spent 3 + years living on wimmin's land -- land held so strongly as a place for wymyn ONLY that the UPS guy was allowed only to the mailbox at the edge of the property, and my father, brothers, and sons could not visit me there.

For me, this was a good thing at the time. I could wander the land, shirtless (and pantless, if I could handle the weather), any time of day or night, without fearing for my physical or sexual safety (at least at the hands of human beings). I experienced a level of freedom than is unusual for most women (especially dykes) in our culture. I got to imprint a template into my own being which allowed me to move forth into the status quo world in a completely different way. It was like exercising a muscle that I had not known existed.

However . . .

I also experienced some things in that time that have resulted in an inadvertent pricking up of my ears whenever I see the phrase "Insert-Word-Here-Only".

While living in womyn-only space, I knew wimmin who were so "anti-male-anything" that they would not have roosters (or any other male animal) on their property. I was confronted by a butch dyke who treated me with the precise tactics of oppression that are associated with "maleness" in our society -- bristling up to me with a threatening stance because she was physically bigger than I. I watched people who were born with a vagina discriminate against people who went to incredible expense, and through incredible trauma, and gave up male privilege, straight privilege, and "normal" privilege just to have a vagina.

I also got to experience: Going to sleep at night with my doors unlocked and feeling completely safe, walking naked through the garden with narry-a-thought, and working in a business where my gender and sexual orientation were not a constant blip on the radar of my boss, employees, or co-workers.

See, there's that ambivilence thing for me.

I think that "Something-Only" space can very be useful for showing us how ingrained our training is -- to stay in the closet, modify our behavior based on our gender/orientation/spirituality/whatever. For me, it was like the negative space in a painting, which defined and clarified the thing that had always been with me, though I had not been aware of it.

Ultimately, though, I recognized that the "Women Only" space I inhabited was still a "going away from" -- an escape or haven from "Willy World" (the patriarchal theme-park in which I had been raised) into another form of insularity -- simply a new form of theme park. Gone was the familiar "Eternally-Present Dick" ride that I had grown up selling cotton candy next to -- now I had clambered aboard the "Half the Population is Evil" roller-coaster ride.

I want to be clear -- I am not condemning, in any way: Women-Only, Men-Only, Tranny-Only, etc., etc., etc.-Only spaces.

I just want to make sure, for myself, when I enter an "-Only" space, that I am moving forward or toward -- consciously heading into a space that is designed to bring me to awareness of what the "only" is meant to emphasize. So, in "Women-Only" space, I would want to have the opportunity to really study and experience what, if anything, is really unique to being a Woman (and I don't think that pedicures and manicures, or even simple the simple absence of all humans with penises, will necessarily allow me that).

In many ways, I think that "Something"-Only space is useful to show us what we are going away from. Like going on a fast, so that you understand how the foods you have been eating are affecting you , or hauling all your own un-recyclable trash around with you for two weeks, so you can comprehend exactly how deeply you have relied on a dysfunctional waste system.

After all, the women interviewed about the article on the women-only beach very clearly state that they are trying to get away from the cultural oppression that they experience daily as Italian women.

“Life is still quite tough for women in Italy. Men give us no peace.” She said that at Riccione, “no one stares at you to see if you’ve got cellulite. You don’t have to tie yourself up in a beach sarong to disguise your imperfections. Men are so critical. We can’t all be Miss Italy”.

The owner of the beach (a man) says, in the article: “It is simply for women to be themselves.”

Which implies that women cannot be themselves in the presence of men.

I felt very sad as I read this, and I bristled in the same moment -- because the services offered at this beach are pedicures, manicures, fitness classes, and hair-stylings -- things that are probably designed to make the women more attractive to the very people they exclude from the beach. Does that seem weird to you? (Maybe it's just me. I consider that it is a possibility that it is just me.)

OK. That's my rant.

And here's my pro-active statement:

I declare Teh Portly Dyke a Consciousness-Only Space. If you are not conscious, don't tread on my beach.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 3:47 PM 9 comments  

Labels: Consciousness, Feminism, Gender, Queers