There are scars that run like rivers down my body, slowly snaking over flesh and bone, winding down along my skin in crooked red and silver streaks, over stomach, hips, and thigh — the burden of bearing children or merely the potential, skin stretched too thin, to the breaking point, leaving marks that never go away. I hide them beneath layers of clothing so that I won’t catch my own disapproving scowl in the mirror when I think that I am not paying attention; I will let my lover strip me bare and tell me I am beautiful, but I can’t bring myself to believe him.

There are red, angry scars like an alien landscape, craters across my cheeks and brow and shoulders and chest, and though I do nothing to hide them — I do not cake them in cosmetics to pretend they are not there — I secretly fret and fuss and worry, though I have never had the luxury of being the slender, pretty blonde in the sitcom with just one huge red zit appearing suddenly on the day of the prom. When I had hair, I hid behind that, burying myself so that no one could see the face riddled with pockmarks and inflamed follicles, the greasy sheen, the bad skin. Now I can’t hide it behind anything, and I am not always sure that is a good thing.

I have more scars. Cats and rats and ferrets scampering over my skin, the joys and sorrows of caring for a living breathing creature and the death of one. Whole pieces of flesh gone, razor burns and ingrown hairs, just a memory now that I have accepted the fact that I can never be conventionally beautiful and I will never be a silky-smooth hairless Barbie doll (though I will not lie — sometimes all of us wish that we could be that). Burns: angry brown marks on my left wrist and right arm, clumsy accidents in domesticity, glaring reminders of my failure to ever be the proper, meek, prospective housewife I was taught in Sunday School to be. More and more, scars marking territory and proclaiming my faults and flaws and, occasionally, a virtue, not all of them visible to the naked eye and some beneath the skin and in my blood, my mind, my soul — and I do not hide any of them from anyone.

I don’t make love in the dark. I have reconciled myself with the idea of being photographed for sentimental purposes. And though I try to care for my body and love it and secretly hope to improve it in pursuit of an unrealistic ideal, I do not conceal my flaws. I have never tried. It would be a futile exercise, and I would be found out for the clown I am, hiding behind the mask. And, truthfully, no one who has seen those myriad imperfections has ever expressed anything but enthusiasm for my body, heart, soul laid bare…

But I can’t bear to look.

Dearest Family,

I am aware that you are concerned about me and only want the best for me, in your limited sense of what “best” means. (Hint: what you accept as “best” is nothing that makes me happy, and, in fact, tends to be exactly that which makes my life most unbearable. See: trying to convince me to waste my time at a vocational school or community college rather than pursuing a degree at an excellent, if expensive, school, in an area which excites me. See: trying to break me up with my boyfriend, who is in fact the reason I am going back to school and who is demonstratively good for me by most objective measures…just not the ones you think are important, apparently.) I appreciate that you genuinely care about me even if you do not understand me and generally give poor, unsolicited advice. I love you anyway, even when I sometimes probably shouldn’t. (See: trying to break me up with my boyfriend. Assholes.)

However, I cannot help but notice the irony of the girl with the terrifying facial piercings and tattoo in a dead-end job with no professional or intellectual aspirations in life lecturing the clean-cut aspiring art and creative writing student about her unprofessional appearance due to her short hair. I cannot also help but notice that the coincidence when this conversation coincides with a recent transphobic diatribe about the aforementioned sister’s distaste for people who defy conventional gender norms and preference for “girls who are feminine” and “men who are masculine”. This, combined with the failure of Congress to recognize that, once again, trans issues are everyone else’s issues, and that gender-nonconformity is in fact a very real area of concern re: discrimination in employment for the cisgendered, results in lectures about my appearance being far more personally hurtful and infuriating than you can possibly realize.

Furthermore, suggested solutions to this issue — “buy a cheap wig” — are laughable.
Read the rest of this entry »

There is an amazing post up on the Feminist LJ Community detailing the poster’s childhood experiences growing up fat:

I was often physically assaulted for being a fat kid.

Boys would attack me on the playground, the bus, the classroom when the teacher had her back turned. They’d punch me as hard as they could in the middle of my back and then run away, laughing. I’d go home after school, my arms and legs covered in bruises from where the boys beat me. I’d get yanked around on the school bus by my hair. I would get told that I was fat, ugly and should just die.

I remember one beating, a particularly brutal one. A kid named Kevin told a boy named Scotty that I had written on the back of a bus seat Kelly + Scotty. He was so embarrassed a fat, ugly, “fucked up nasty piece of shit like me” did that, he attacked me in the school lobby and beat me for several minutes until a teacher was able to pry him off me. He screamed, he cursed, he told me how ugly I was, fat, disgusting, and in the principals office, he told me, “Why don’t you just die?”

Go read the whole thing.

So the other day I finally got around to shaving my head, something I’ve been threatening to do for months but apparently no one took seriously. I showed them. Donating my massive amounts of hair to Locks of Love.

Read the rest of this entry »

Now that we’ve established that, on to a different reason why it matters which has been touched upon but which was tangential to the other point I was trying to make.

Beauty standards are a class issue. I can’t say it better than Winter did a while back, so just go read that post if you want in-depth analysis. It’s also a race issue, and the two are distinct but also connected enough that if I address one I must address the other. I’ll simply try to explain briefly:

American standards of femininity are constructed in a way to be accessible to members of a certain class and ethnicity because they are markers of precisely that. Women are expected to look, at the least, middle-class and As White As Possible, because that’s what has been constructed as attractive and acceptable. It’s a deeply classist and racist system.

Not everyone has the time or money to spend making themselves look acceptably “feminine” all the time. Debates about whether or not some woman is a “bad” feminist for getting a bikini wax are pointless because they ignore the fact that many women can’t afford to pay someone to rip their hair out of them on a regular basis. Good quality cosmetics are expensive. Being acceptably hairless takes time and money, and if you’re poor, that might not be something you can afford to worry about all the time, and if you’re not white, it takes even more time because you might have more hair or darker hair or you might be more prone to ingrown hairs or skin problems from hair removal.

And the problem is that these standards of middle-class, white beauty are spreading. They are expected of every woman, not just the ones who are easily able to attain them. This is deeply harmful to poor women, and women of color; these are not necessarily one and the same but tend to go together. And so, in order to keep her job, a waitress has to waste time and money on cosmetics which might be toxic because it’s not considered a legally undue burden for waitresses to be expected to be “pretty” even though as long as they are clean and pleasant, it should have no impact on their ability to perform their job. This woman might lose her jobs if she doesn’t conform, a very real and negative consequence of how beauty standards are socially enforced. And so we have African-American women frying their hair flat in an effort to avoid social rebuke, Asian women having surgery to make their eyes rounder and more white-looking, and women of color all over the world being permanently poisoned and scarred from the use of chemicals intended to bleach their skin.

This is not okay. A woman forced to choose between spending her money on actual necessities and cosmetics in order to keep her job is not okay. A woman being forced to iron her hair in order to keep her job because “ethnic” hairstyles are considered “unprofessional”, because somehow her body is unacceptable the way it naturally is, is not okay. Being forced to choose between the pursuit of an ideal which is unrealistic and based on the income and often race of a totally different group of people, therefore often unobtainable, and the ability to make a living and live a decent life is not okay.

That’s why the hell it matters.

One continuing source of frustration for me is the fact that in every single “debate” (I use the term loosely) about shaving, makeup, and other (American, white) cultural beauty standards, everyone seems to miss the real point. When I post about it, of course I get the obligatory male response telling me how I need to alter myself to properly fit cultural norms in order to “look my best”. Hell, even other feminists have occasionally posted comments which amount to “well, if women sometimes want to wear heels/whatever to feel pretty…”

The point here is not about high heels. Not about bras. Not about makeup. Not about shaving. Not one of those individual things is at the heart of the matter of what I or other people critical of these beauty norms have really been struggling to say. You know what it’s about?

Bodily integrity. It’s about wanting my body to be seen and respected as a normal human body. It’s about wanting to be accepted as good enough on my own merits.

Read the rest of this entry »

Okay, I normally avoid jumping on the feminist blogosphere drama bandwagon, but seriously. It’s so “nice” to know that no matter what kind of work you’ve done, how intelligent you are, or how well-respected, if you are female, you are not allowed to be taken seriously or treated with any amount of dignity:

You know, I was psyched to be invited to this lunch and was feeling pretty honored. But then things like this remind me that no matter what I do or accomplish, because I’m a young woman all I’m good for is fodder for tacky intern jokes and comments that I don’t “represent feminist values” because of the way I posed in a picture.

Pretty much. Unfortunately, it’s worse than that. If you’re an attractive young feminist you can’t be taken seriously because you’re attractive and young. But if you aren’t attractive you also can’t be taken seriously since you’re an ugly man-hating feminist, and you must only care about women’s rights because you’re not pretty and assumed to be insecure. If you’re not pretty enough you’ll get flack for not being good eyecandy no matter how thought-provoking your ideas, and if you’re too pretty you must not have anything valuable to say since we all know intelligent women are never attractive. And so on and so on.

I think someone must really have to hate women in order to think like that. I do.

PS: Since it’s my area of concern at the moment, I think I’ll post some stuff about feminism and fiction writing soon, okay?

Whenever the topic of using non-offensive language comes up, someone invariably objects on one of two grounds:

1. I’m somehow impinging upon their freedom of speech.

This one is ridiculous since making suggestions about how to more politely communicate their points, especially to people who claim to care about anti-oppression work (which is really who my writing is targeted at — if I realize someone doesn’t care I’m not really going to bother explaining why racism, etc. is bad), is very different from me somehow forcing them not to use those words, which I clearly don’t have the ability to do. And I’m not threatening violence on someone who disagrees with me, which is more than I can say for some of the anti-feminists who’ve left comments on my blog. I’m also not going to go and actively harass other people online with whom I disagree until they change their opinions/language, which is also more than can be said for some people. They can say things if they really want to. I just don’t necessarily respect that choice of words. Just because I think everyone should be allowed to express an opinion doesn’t mean I have to agree.

Contrary to what some seem to believe, I highly value freedom of speech. Believe me, as someone who wants to pursue a professional career in writing, I appreciate the ideal probably more than most people will ever have a real reason to. (Being locked up or killed for publishing something the government doesn’t agree with? Yeah, that would be pretty bad and I’m glad that I’ll hopefully never have to deal with that. Being told by some random person on LiveJournal that you’ve offended them? Not so much.) But freedom of speech is not freedom from criticism, and freedom of speech is also responsibility for the words that one uses. I will call people on offensive language, language that hurts or demeans or perpetuates harmful attitudes and stereotypes — including my allies. People need to take responsibility for their actions, and that includes their words. Words are a powerful tool and people are sometimes entirely too careless with them. I “misinterpreted” you? That’s “not what you meant”? Say what you actually mean, then. Or try to, and if I still misinterpret you, clarify.

I have a firm belief that people need to actually say what they mean, rather than resorting to slang and curse words and hoping that people understand their intent and sympathize with it. It’s lazy at best, and that’s my non-judgmental assessment of the behavior.

2. There are no other words in the English language that will suffice except for those which are horribly offensive.

I’ve heard it all. Apparently “if we took out all the words in the English language that people find offensive we wouldn’t have any useful adjectives, adverbs, or nouns”. (Not an exactly word-for-word quote, but paraphrasing a sentiment I’ve seen more than once on various forums.) Besides being totally hyperbolic, I think that if people’s vocabulary is so limited that they can’t find any other words to describe a woman they don’t like besides “bitch”, that they either don’t have a very good grasp of language (which is unfortunate but not an excuse) or they aren’t particularly imaginative. Expressing this judgment has hurt some feelings, but I stand by it, because the English language has lots and lots of words in it. Use them.

You don’t need to call someone “crazy” and further stigmatize the mentally ill. There are already words which connote that someone is making an illogical argument, or a fallacious statement. You don’t need to call someone a “bimbo” or a “slut” since those are value judgments quite often based on someone’s appearance or dress and thus shouldn’t be relevant anyway. Et cetera. Lather, rinse, repeat. There are probably hundreds of different ways to express your ideas in equally powerful language that doesn’t have the side-effect of insulting others or expressing misogynistic, racist, etc., attitudes.

The other side of this argument is really what I want to get at: people argue that they simply have to insult people in order to adequately express themselves. You see, they have a need to assume that a woman is a “slut” or has an eating disorder just from looking at her. It’s absolutely integral to their argument against Ann Coulter that they make assumptions about her physical sex (namely, implying that she’s post-op MtF, because being trans is the worst thing in the world or something); it’s not enough that she’s a hypocrite who doesn’t bother to actually research anything she talks about. Similarly, one simply cannot discuss Hillary Clinton’s politics without bringing in unfounded assumptions about her sexual orientation. It’s totally central to the argument. It is, after all, impossible to actually discuss a person based on their ideas or actions. No one can do that. We need those words. We need to be able to make unfounded judgments and insult people rather than encourage critical thought.

Also, some people seem to argue that they need to be able to use “gay” or “retarded” as a synonym for “stupid”. Actually communicating why you disliked a movie, perhaps found it dull, is impossible. There’s this ephemeral quality to something that makes it “gay” that merely saying “this subject doesn’t interest me” doesn’t quite capture. Something transcending mere disinterest, dislike, or frustration.

People have an unalienable right to be insulting for no reason, with no actual relevance to the sentiment they’re expressing, just because they can, without being questioned about it. This, truly, is the American Dream. The ideal the founding fathers meant to capture when they penned the US constitution was obviously that people be able to make insulting and pejorative remarks at any time with no repercussions, because the only way to actually communicate is through direct and indirect ad hominem attacks. Freedom of speech isn’t about protecting those who disagree with the government or popular ideals. It’s just about people’s right to be insulting.

Uh huh. Okay. Forgive me my lack of sympathy for the fact that already put-upon people would like it if you stopped making their lives and identities synonymous with whatever negative concept you’re trying to express. Somehow I think you can survive.

This post at Pandagon and some of the comments my posts about makeup, etc., have sparked really make me wonder. Common words people are using to describe certain socially-accepted practices of grooming and dressing seem very problematic to me. Specifically, people keep referring to this concept of the “feminine”. Feminine fashion. Girly dress.

And everyone seems to have at least a slightly different idea of what “femininity” entails.

This is why I purposely try to never use the words “feminine” and “masculine” in this context unless it’s tongue-in-cheek or I’m making it clear I’m using the popular understanding of words that I don’t particularly like. “Girly” has a particular place of loathing deep within my vocabulary because it sounds very dismissive and basically infantilizing, but I understand it’s not always used that way, so it’s not that I get angry at people for using it (unless it’s obviously in a pejorative context).

What’s “girly”? Why is makeup “girly”? Not all girls wear it. Not only girls wear it. Not only girls can wear it. Is long hair “girly”? Because even if it’s not as in fashion in America today, in plenty of places throughout history men have worn their hair long, too. There is no intrinsic definition of this word that has anything to do with the state of being female or identifying as a girl/woman.

Similarly with masculine/feminine. Any application of these words to certain ways of dressing or grooming or whatever seem entirely arbitrary to me. I usually treat these words as basically meaningless and highly subjective descriptors. I have no way of knowing what other people consider masculine and feminine, because it varies from person to person and culture to culture. There’s enough of a basic understanding of what is meant that people continue to use them, but it’s a serious pet peeve of mine, especially in this kind of discussion, because the words are usually too vague to really impart much.

(A note on usage: When I use these words in this kind of discussion, it’s usually in the context of gender roles, expected, enforced, or discouraged behavior and personality traits — and I’ll make clear to clarify “masculine gender role” when I use it as such. The other context I use it in is to describe gender identity, which isn’t necessarily a standard usage but I think using “men” and “women” and “masculine/feminine gender ID” makes it clearer when I’m talking about gender rather than physical sex characteristics, when I try to use the terms “male” and “female” to describe biology. Obviously one’s gender identity and sex usually coincide so there is some overlap and a little confusion, and I’m not always sure which word is appropriate. But if the discussion involves gender vs. gender roles vs. physical sex I always try to make the distinction, and that’s the only time you’ll hear me use the words “masculine” and “feminine” seriously.)

If “feminine” is what women do, how women dress, what women typically are, that doesn’t get us any closer to a standard definition than where we started, because individual women have so much variation in preferences and personality that I’m not sure there even is what we could call statistically average behavior. Men and women and everyone outside the binary act in pretty much any conceivable way possible regardless of physiology or psychology. Average where? When? Within which subcultures or groups? Even people who more-or-less conform to their assigned gender role typically exhibit a wide range of personality traits and interests. (And this definitely includes fashion sense.)

If femininity is what women are, then clearly whatever is typical for me can be labeled feminine. Therefore it is feminine to be geeky, obsessed with science fiction, into computers and video games, to enjoy action movies, read comic books, to be loud and aggressive in conversation, and to argue with people a lot.

If I’m not typically feminine, something I think few would accuse me of, I must be masculine…for a female. So it must be masculine to have long hair, wear skirts, cook, be willing to compromise and defer to others’ needs, write romance, watch musicals, love classical music, and read poetry. Oh, yes, and if I’m not feminine it must be a deeply masculine trait to be concerned with social justice, particularly queer issues and feminism.

If you’re going to disagree with either of the preceding paragraphs, if I’m not masculine or feminine, what am I?

What do “masculinity” and “femininity” mean to you and why? What do you mean when you use the words? If you know what you mean, why don’t you just state that definition instead?

Not the most important issue in the world; it just seems like something worth thinking about.

There have been a few interesting posts in response to my post Eyeliner, Razors, High Heels, and Bras. I really think that much of what different authors are describing is tangential to my original post, but…that doesn’t mean I didn’t find what they had to say interesting.
To sum up: it bothers me when feminists claim that women aren’t under pressure to dress/groom/act a certain way, and seems pretty akin to saying “sexism doesn’t exist anymore” because it’s plainly untrue to anyone who critically observes the world. It also bothers me when feminists assume women have no agency because of those social pressures, and set up a feminist anti-standard which says you can only be a “good” feminist if you don’t shave/don’t wear makeup/burn your bra/etc. The problem is that women have to make a “statement” politically in an arena which should be a matter of personal comfort and preference. Women are unable to make informed decisions for the sake of their health — shaving is bad for the skin, and so are many cosmetics, people fry their hair into submission rather than styling it in a way which keeps it healthy, and wearing or not wearing certain shoes or bras is uncomfortable for different women. The problem is that we feel we need to choose one way or the other, either for sake of fashion or feminism. Neither is the solution.

I think part of the problem is that I didn’t try to pretend to offer a solution other than “maybe we all ought to carefully examine our motivations before claiming that social conditioning doesn’t affect the way we present ourselves”. People can read a lot into something when you don’t pretend to know the answer; therefore, it seems that people had some wildly divergent ideas of what I was trying to get at when I was mostly making a pretty focused point (I’m sick of people claiming social pressure on women to dress/groom a certain way doesn’t exist) rather than a broad one (do I know how to fix this? hell no. dress how you want).

Right now, since I don’t want to make a massive post from hell, I’ll just address what Bitch | Lab had to say:

I don’t think young folks believe it — though it may still exist — but there was pressure on feminists to wear a kind of uniform. Anyone who wore make up or a dress? She had to have a really good fucking reason to get away with it and it would only be something temporary — like making your parents happy for their yearly visit. Your car should be appripriately “green” or a Volvo. Certainly not a beat up Plymouth that I had to crawl into from the passenger side.

But those things really aren’t the issue — though they are signposts marking the path I took to get to where I am now. Signposts that mark a rejection of what some might otherwise call hypocrisy. I was interested, not so much because it was hypocrisy, but to wonder why it existed at all. What seemed to make it impossible for us to not reproduce taste and style, even a feminist taste and style, which was enforced with its own judgments about what was feminist and what wasn’t, who belongs and who didn’t? Why, in spite of wanting to get away from that, did we reproduce it?

Where I differ is with Earlbecke is with the seeming certainty that it might be possible to create a world where everyone just wore whatever they pleased because they possess a self capable of making those decisions based on their little ol’ desires. It is a potentiality, this self, but it is a potentiality that’s being banked on: the potential for a self untouched by society in the self’s expression of its _true_ desires.

On this model, our true desires are like something we carry around with us in a little knapsack. In an ideal society, we’d be free of social structural systems of oppression and the stufff in the knapsack — our desires — would magically express who were are. We’d have this self beneath all the gunk and junk of oppression. It’d be our own special, unique self.

This really isn’t much different than the famous billiard ball model upon which classical economic theory is built. The little selves just bang up against each other: there are no internal relations. They carry around their properties and attributes, unfazed by banging up against all the other little self-encapsulated monads in a Leibnizian universe. (Leibniz is a philosopher who spoke of a world composed of monads)

On this model, we have our monad selves with attributes called preferences. We whip those preferences out of our knapsack when we go shopping, making decisions based on those preferences.

From a lefty perspective, the problem is that those preferences (desires) carry with them the mark of a structurally oppressive society. That society shapes our preferences and desires. We aren’t free. Our freedom is constrained by the demands of the system. We are, in other words, ideologically blinded by hetero/sexism, racism, ablism, and class exploitation and oppression.

Here, the problem is the knapsack — structural forms of oppression — that crush our true desires like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that got tossed around in a poorly designed knapsack.

But the problem, for me, is that this assumes that we just need to fix the knapsack so it doesn’t crush the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That, underneath the massive weight of those oppressions, there exist selves that could otherwise be free to have and express true needs and desires. They’ve just been prevented from expressing their true desires.

And what does this remind you of? Well, it reminds me of the essentialist gender categories that Butler worries about. Butler says that, even while social constructionists recognize that gender is largely socially constructed, you can still read an essentialism. It’s not just imported into the theory by accident. It’s also not simply a mark or trace left over by an ideology that hasn’t been completely erased from the theory. Rather, it is an essentialism that is constituted by social constructionist thought itself. Not shaped, but actually constituted by it.

Which is a fair enough point, and, I think, important to keep in mind when arguing just about anything. (Have I mentioned I love Bitch | Lab? Well, I do. She’s, like, so much more educated than I am.)

Read the rest of this entry »