Feminism and Liberation for Everyone

To the extent that women are enslaved, so too men are enslaved. The oppression of one individual or one group is the oppression of all individuals and all groups. Solidarity marks the sexes. In sexism we all die, both victim and victor. In liberation we all live equally as human beings.

-Phyllis Trible, "Depatriarchalizing in Biblical Interpretation," p. 35

Feminism is, more often than not, seen as a "women's movement." Comprised of oppressed women, looking for a way out of a patriarchal society, sexist traditions, misogynistic norms, it is often assumed that only women carry the feminist flag.

Although this article has more to do with feminism and the eradication of patriarchy in a specifically religious context, that quote struck me. Hard.

A community, no matter what divisions, or the members of it, is still a community. While feminists may exist within their own sub-community, it's important to acknowledge that we aren't detached from the greater, still patriarchal, community. In fact, if we were, it wouldn't still be an issue; there wouldn't still be a need for feminism. Those who strive for liberation from patriarchy could simply move into a "safe space," of their own volition. There would be no difficulty in doing so, because separate societies would maintain separate worlds (in an ideal setting). However, people sometimes forget that we are still surrounded by others.

What this quote does, is to give context to the idea that if one member of a society is oppressed, victimized, stigmatized, or in any way discriminated against, so is every other member of that society. It puts an emphasis on the importance of groupwork and collaboration; something that the women's movement and its lack of solidarity with those "outsiders" is often found in want of. In an oppressive society, members are relegated to one of two roles: the oppressed, or the oppressor. In a patriarchal society, men are seen as dominant, superior, oppressive; women are seen as submissive, inferior, and oppressed. There isn't a whole lot of grey space for those who fall in between. So what happens to men who refuse to play the role of oppressor? While they can't avoid male privilege, even if they may want to, they make a conscious effort to minimize the damage they do towards their female colleagues. What about women who treat even other women as their inferiors? I.e., cisgender, heteronormative women who treat transgender women or otherwise queer women as something inherently less because they don't represent the picturesque ideal of femininity. Is it possible to be both the oppressor and the oppressed? White women are often seen in this role; oppressed by white men, but oppressive to women of color.

That was tangential. My point is, as long as there are still roles of oppressed and oppressor, victim and victor, Trible is correct. The society, at large, remains within confines and is limited by such roles. Without the eradication of these concepts, no individual, let alone community, will be free from such division and imprisonment. Sometimes we forget that "working together" extends to those beyond simply the "women's movement," but we have to remember to eliminate patriarchy as a social institution, we have to get all of society involved.

Let this serve as a reminder to myself and hopefully to any of you who might have forgotten the real definitions of inclusivity and collaboration.

Freedom of Speech

Side note. Tomorrow!

On that note. I had the lovely opportunity of discussing street harassment in my WCP class this morning. A lot of good things were said, and a few amazingly disturbing things were. One of the ones that literally made my jaw drop, was a peer defending street harassment as "freedom of speech." This isn't meant as an attack on that person, but rather my need to acknowledge the fact that so many people today have no real understanding of the Bill of Rights, and their intensive purpose of protecting all citizens. I understand that things like this are actually relatively common in Intro classes - that's part of why they're offered. To educate. It just makes me sad to think that so many men and women don't understand the actual limitations and boundaries of these laws. Yes, freedom of speech and expression exists; but only to the extent that your "speech" isn't detrimental or violating to another's civil and human rights.

To defend street harassment as an extension of free speech is, in a sentence, to diminish the victims of such harassment to something sub-human. The perpetrators of street harassment, and other forms, forego their rights to such protections as "free speech" once they infringe upon the rights of others to comfort and safety in a public space.

The idea behind street harassment is that the street is a public area, and as such, as a "male" area - one in which masculinity and males are in charge. Not public in the sense of "it should be safe," but public in the sense that it is free from the safety that comes with a neutral space. Neutral and public are not synonymous. Historically, women's places and roles are privatized, meant to be in the home; and men's roles are publicized, in government or economic sectors. By relegating discussion to a public atmosphere, there is sometimes an inherent assumption that it's "man's terrain." Also relevant.

VAWA Links

An article on the Violence Against Women Reauthorization Act being held up.

Another one on domestic violence.

Women's Health.

World Health Organization on women's violence.

A Feminist Wire article on domestic violence.

I still want neutrality.

Three days ago I was unidentifiable as male or female. I leaned way further towards the masculine side of my identity; baggy pants, a loose-fitting sweater and a collared shirt. No gendered jewelry - no jewelry at all asides from my ring. There was no makeup, my hair wasn't "done," and there was nothing noticeably feminine about my appearance. No one held doors for me or addressed me as "ma'am." I got confused looks from people trying to categorize me as they passed me. I received verbal identification at the hands of other people.

Today I'm wearing a short skirt, a low-cut shirt, tights. A complimenting bra. My hair isn't done but it's a bit less disheveled. I am, unmistakably, a woman. People are holding doors for me. I'm getting female pronouns like no other. I even feel a bit like a woman.

With a simple outfit change and the wind switching directions, I can create and change how people perceive and treat me. I like the flexibility, but sometimes, it isn't comfortable.

Even when I get dressed to go out, I have to take into account where I'm going and who I'm going with. The location and environment I'll be in determines how safe I feel in either gender. When I go to urban areas at night with friends, it's a huge battle - I feel more comfortable as a masculine being, because I know the dangers women are presented with in these areas. But I also think, what if I run into someone who isn't as comfortable with my nonconformity as those I'm with? Will I be harassed more for being a woman or for choosing not to appreciate that?

What it comes down to is that I am always both. Whatever personality I choose to present as at a given time, the other half is still inescapably alive. Even on days like today, when I feel as though it's appropriate to present as more feminine, I find parts of myself still feeling horrifically uncomfortable in feminine clothing; I keep readjusting to try to make myself less obvious, less exposed.

I enjoy the privacy that comes with presenting as masculine, but I equally enjoy the privilege that comes with aligning my gender representation and my biological sex. That's a privilege that only cisgender people know, and it's still one I'm learning to accommodate. With this privilege comes a sense of guilt, a sense of obligation. I feel a little bit like Peter Parker. When I choose to present as feminine, I feel a responsibility to educate people that yes, I'm a woman today. But regardless of how I look or act, I still prefer gender-neutral pronouns, and I still have obvious male tendencies. It doesn't just confuse them, it confuses me too. How can I expect to be cisgender on one day and semi-transgender the next, and maintain that I still have a right to live between these worlds? It doesn't seem fair to those around me. The duality in my own body and mind are a great source of conflict, and I'm still working out how to live out both ends of it, without repressing one or the other.

In learning to embrace both sides of my identity, I've learned a lot about respect - self-respect and respect towards others. I'm beginning to see evidence of ambiguity more and more often, everywhere I look. In a way, not being certain of who, or what, I am, is making me more certain of who I want to be and what I want to find in the world around me. Seeing people's varied reactions towards my various selves is an educational sociological experience, and it's always different.

To realize, every day, that the world and everything in it remains in a constant state of change (a bit of an oxymoron), is to realize that there's a new kind of freedom out there. To be unsure in a sure world is to receive a little gift every single morning.

Could Androgyny Eradicate Sexism?

I realize that for this to even be an inkling of a plan, every human individual would have to commit to androgyny, or some form of it.

The other night I went out with a friend and her family for her birthday dinner. As we sat at the table, the waiter referred to me as "bud." I'm still unclear about whether he just thought I was a male, or a young boy (the more likely possibility). It was an enlightening experience when I realized that I wasn't offended in the least, and actually, it was my first "passing" for something other than my biological sex since I've come out as gender-fluid/queer, whatever you want to call it. If I can pass for a man, or even a boy, I think I'm okay with that. Unfortunately, things escalated in a negative way from there. One of my friend's family members commented on my androgyny, and claimed that at first, he "didn't know whether it was a boy or a girl." This is something I get a lot from small children, and I'm fine with that. If I can give children a reason to question their perception of gender at such a young age, I'm doing something no one ever did for me. I don't see that as a corruption of innocence, I see it more as a chance to grow, for them and myself.

But this was a full-grown man. And not just once. He referred to me as "it" probably five times in the first twenty minutes of this dinner.

While I have no problem with being called a woman, girl, man or boy, I most certainly do have a problem with being called it. It, to me, implies a lack of humanity. Or maybe sterilization - I usually think of how people refer to my dogs once they find out they're neutered and spayed. "It" is used to objectify, to denote "thingness;" I am not a thing, and as a Jewish, Latina, lesbian, woman, gender-fluid, student, retail worker - I am objectified enough on the daily to not care for being called "it." This very objectification is what often leads to violence - violence against women, violence against the disabled, violence against trans* and queer individuals, violence against those members of ethnic minorities. By making them seem less than human, we are saying it's okay to treat them as less than human, even though it isn't. The funny thing is, as an it, I still was treated better and seen more as "one of the guys" than had I been a she when I first arrived. I was involved in conversation, I wasn't carded for my drink, and I was shown "respect" by the waitstaff and even those I was in attendance with. I was invited to talk about football and relationships and alcohol. But what if I didn't want this? I didn't go into this new phase of my identity in order to steal male privilege, and I often feel uncomfortable if and when I receive it. But how can we rest on the boundary between male and female, between oppressor and oppressed, without stealing privilege or betraying our feminine roots, without being referred to as a thing?

I find it hard to bring any of this up in a normal conversation - normal being someone heteronormative, identifying within binary gender identities, someone who fulfills a hegemonic ideal - even when things like "it" do come up. For instance, I couldn't bring myself to ask this man to use gender-neutral pronouns, because would he even understand it or abide by it? At what level does it become necessary to demand a name, a personhood, a right to existing as someone more than it? What do I do if it isn't safe? What if I ask this person to use gender-neutral pronouns, and in his confusion and misunderstanding, he perceives me as that "thing" he unknowingly dubbed me as, and becomes scared of all that I represent?

I'm not at all saying that as one person, I have this profound effect on those around me. But the chances do concern me.

Could a universal state of androgyny solve this? In this sense, I don't mean androgyny as a complete eradication of gender necessarily, but rather embracing both masculine and feminine qualities and living in a dual body. What if we didn't have to choose between boy or girl, and what if the biological sex we are prescribed at birth had nothing to do with who we were? If there were no masculine "men" and "feminine" women, would sexism as we know it, cease to exist? What would the new order look like? We typically see things like this in futuristic literature, and it tends to lead to one of two extremes - dystopian chaos, or utopian bliss. Are these really the only options? In a world without solidified gender roles, do we really have to either collapse upon ourselves or head directly into a kind of paradise? Is there another option?

I find I am happiest when I am perceived to be someone in between the worlds of male and female. To know something about both oppressor and oppressed is to know something about the dynamics of the universe itself. I wear a yin-yang ring on my left ring finger, and I have every day for five years. It reminds me that there is always a duality in everything I do - even within myself. I am good and bad, male and female, holy and a sinner, wise and foolish, big and small. It also reminds me that I am a part of something much larger than myself. While I exist inside myself, and in my community, I also exist within a large student body, a city, a state, a country and a world. I am only as much of an individual as I allow myself to be, but even in this large groups, I am still singular and powerful in that individualism, as powerful as I am in a collective body.

There is a separate sort of privilege that comes with androgyny and fluidity, a special kind of knowing. If we could magically apply the concept of androgyny (and not just gender- or sex-specific, but even race-androgyny) to everyone, what would be left to fight over? We commonly identify our enemies by their differences, whether in appearances or behavior. If we saw no differences, and there was no way to define what is "normal" in either of these respects, what would the world be like? What would it look like? Would it be a mass of faceless people, or a crowd of individuals living fully as themselves, without the restrictions placed on them by their gender?

Shabbat Shalom

I'll do a lengthier post later, once I have a topic solidified in my mind.

Just a quick briefing though. I am about to go to a synagogue for an actual service, for the first time in what must be about six years. This will be the first time I've interacted with these people for more than ten minutes in that long. The last time most of them will remember seeing me is my bat mitzvah.

This renewed interest in tradition and participation in the community is influenced by a lot of things. I want to lay a good groundwork so that I'm able to approach these people when I need their opinions in my research project, if I get the grant. All of this engaging in other communities is making me miss my original one. Sometimes we just need a little tradition in our lives. I'm interested to hear what they have to say in regards to the position of women, now that I'll actually be listening.

While I am excited, I do wish that my first time back was at another one, not a Messianic synagogue. But the beginning is usually a good place to start.

VAWA

Tonight's post is going to be centered around violence against women. In light of the significance of this week - between all of the controversy and debate going on over VAWA (Violence Against Women Act), v-day, and One Billion Rising, as well as personal significance - it seems appropriate.

Relevant links:

V-day.

One Billion Rising.

VAWA and Native American women.

VAWA home.

Huffington Post articles on VAWA.

Argument against VAWA.

After a week without consistent access to the internet, I owe a few posts. However, I am going to try to appease the masses by achieving one very important, very succinct one.

I do not hate men. As a feminist, I am often seen as a raging, man-hating, no-shaving, vegan lesbian woman. Only half of those are true (sometimes-raging, most of the time too-lazy-to-shave, always a lesbian). I do not hate men, and I tried to be vegan once (amidst my on-and-off five-year stretch of vegetarianism), but I failed. Horribly. The least true of all of these is that I hate men. Most of my closest friends are males; I generally get along with them better than females. They suit my personality and style more. For whatever reason, I like men. Just not sexually. The fact that I like men so much just makes this so much harder.

It is a downright, abhorrent shame that there are some kinds of men (or people in general) out there who commit such ludicrous acts of violence against innocent women. These kinds of people give the great kinds a horrible name, and create a collectively-feared stereotype. These groups make a girl nervous to walk in a parking garage alone after dusk, make it dangerous to walk a few blocks home. They make it necessary to lock doors, carry mace, talk on your phone while you walk alone, double check to make sure your outfit isn't too "provocative," and whatever else you can think of that you do, without even realizing, to protect yourself from violence.

These kinds of people turn the people we love into monsters, unable to control themselves simply because they're male. While we know that's not true, and it seems stupid to even mention it...there are men out there who make it seem plausible. There are people who take an independent woman's strong sexuality as a casualty; see it as something to be taken advantage of - if a woman is proud of her body and open with her sexuality, she is easy, not confident. Why?

Is it because we are still, in some perverted way, seen as property? Maybe something needed to be conquered? Are we the last frontier in the patriarchal voyage of exploration and degradation? Whatever it is, it's irrelevant. It shouldn't be an issue. Not today, in the 21st century. Not when women's rights are table-talk, women's studies programs are growing exponentially, we have women running for political offices left and right (and being so close to succeeding). Society today shouldn't be so barbaric that we can't get into our own homes safely without being terrified the entire way there.

We shouldn't feel as though we have to blame ourselves; we don't. There's nobody here to blame but those who commit these atrocious acts towards women and children - whether physical, sexual, emotional, or verbal violence...it needs to end. We need to stop being told by media and popular culture that whatever happens to us, as women, we are asking for it. We aren't. The girl down the street doesn't deserve to be raped for wearing a skirt that's a bit above her knees. The one who sits next to you in class doesn't deserve to be called a slut or a whore, because she kissed a boy at a party last weekend. The one who turned Johnny down when he asked her out isn't necessarily a dyke, and she doesn't deserve to be called one just for that. (As a side note, we're reclaiming words like "dyke," and "slut." You can't hurt us by using names we proudly give ourselves.)

If you haven't, please, please, please read up on VAWA and the other important issues surrounding it. If you're a woman, or you happen to love one (or many), if you have a mother, a sister, or whomever...you owe it to them and yourself to at least be informed and aware.

Now is the time to end it. I realize world peace is the most ideal goal ever, and unattainable because everyone would have to work together - but that's how this is going to work, too. One person can be a catalyst for an entire movement, but it takes an entire movement to save that one person sometimes.