Gloria Steinem says all the things that I’ve pretty much been thinking about Sarah Palin (though she says it better than I ever could).
This isn’t the first time a boss has picked an unqualified woman just because she agrees with him and opposes everything most other women want and need. Feminism has never been about getting a job for one woman. It’s about making life more fair for women everywhere. It’s not about a piece of the existing pie; there are too many of us for that. It’s about baking a new pie.
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The other day I was painting (the walls) and listening to Dar Williams’ song, When I Was A Boy when I thought of myself at about the age in the picture at left. So I got out some really old photo albums and scanned this picture. It is me at one of the happiest times in my life. I frequently think back to this time with utter joy because it was a time when I had the most freedom. I was totally unconcerned with what other people thought I should look or act like (well, except my mother, but that is another story), unconcerned with impressing boys, unconcerned with the worries of sexuality. I played with the boys and girls in pretty much an equal manner. I loved to run a million miles per hour (no trouble with bouncing boobs back then). I had dirt on my knees, and scrapes on my elbows. In many ways, I really identified with the boy mentality, saw myself as one of the boys. Whenever I hang out with girls in this age range, I think of that lovely me, so unhindered.
All of a sudden, maybe around age 10 or 11, puberty hit, and I was never the same. So many worries. So much stress.
It is only recently, maybe in the last 5 years, that I’ve gotten back some of that boy inside me. Actually, it more like I’ve managed to integrate the boy with the girl. It’s like the girl and boy were enemies for years, pulling each other in different directions and making each other miserable. But now they are friends. I think I’ve finally managed to appreciate both for what they are, and maybe see how both can make a happy me.
Can the way I am choosing to raise my children save them from this integration process? Will they identify less with the labels, and just have the integrated me all the way through? I hope so.
When were you a boy? Tell me.
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We got him pull-ups for night-time - pink trimmed, Dora the Explorer pull-ups. This may well turn him gay - I’ve heard quite reliable reports from all across America that anything remotely feminine will turn a growing boy gay. Considering M’s already had a pink sleeping sac, flowery onesies, a dollhouse, a doll (given to J but appropriated by M), a Hello Kitty dress-up doll, a Hello Kitty blanket, a Hello Kitty backpack, and a Hello Kitty toothbrush, this may well be the point of no return. Gayness, here we come!
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I never thought I could describe myself as a ‘curmudgeon,’ but that’s how I’m feeling today. What’s got my back up? A New York Times editorial on a middle school talent show. Reading the article requires free registration, but I’ll save you the trouble with an excerpt:
They writhe and strut, shake their bottoms, splay their legs, thrust their chests out and in and out again. Some straddle empty chairs, like lap dancers without laps. They don’t smile much. Their faces are locked from grim exertion, from all that leaping up and lying down without poles to hold onto. “Don’t stop don’t stop,â€? sings Janet Jackson, all whispery. “Jerk it like you’re making it choke. …Ohh. I’m so stimulated. Feel so X-rated.â€? The girls spend a lot of time lying on the floor. They are in the sixth, seventh and eighth grades.
As each routine ends, parents and siblings cheer, whistle and applaud. I just sit there, not fully comprehending. It’s my first suburban Long Island middle school talent show. I’m with my daughter, who is 10 and hadn’t warned me. I’m not sure what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. It was something different. Something younger. Something that didn’t make the girls look so … one-dimensional.
Why is it that these so-called parents don’t see the problem with this? What do they want their daughters to grow up to be? I’ve felt out of touch with the mainstream for awhile - the natural birthing / extended breastfeeding / cosleeping / homeschooling / unconditional parenting / ecologically conscious / non-CAFO-meat-eating / non-TV watching / finding Bratz repelling / house music listening demographic is rather small, after all ;-). But every so often, I hear about something like this that makes me feel REALLY out of sync with mainstream society.
I don’t think I’m old and crotchety (yet) but this makes me wonder how much worse can things get? Are there more and more parents who just don’t think anymore? Is anything that’s popular and on tv automatically acceptable to the masses? Granted, this is a single example but it’s not a revelation (at least not since the Spur Posse stuff came to light years ago). I recall an article some time back that stated that oral sex in middle school was not unusual. I’ve heard of one school where some 8th-grade boys who are reputed to be sexually active wear pink t-shirts on Fridays. There seem to be enough parents who are either uncaring and/or ineffective. This socialization sounds like it’s laying the foundation for a future society that will probably make my skin crawl. However, the editorial is good from the view that there are others who won’t condone this kind of parenting.
I’m sure that many parents see these routines as healthy fun, an exercise in self-esteem harmlessly heightened by glitter makeup and teeny skirts. Our girls are bratz, not slutz, they would argue, comfortable in the existence of a distinction.
But my parental brain rebels. Suburban parents dote on and hover over their children, micromanaging their appointments and shielding them in helmets, kneepads and thick layers of S.U.V. steel. But they allow the culture of boy-toy sexuality to bore unchecked into their little ones’ ears and eyeballs, displacing their nimble and growing brains and impoverishing the sense of wider possibilities in life.
There is no reason adulthood should be a low plateau we all clamber onto around age 10. And it’s a cramped vision of girlhood that enshrines sexual allure as the best or only form of power and esteem.
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So here I am repairing and cleaning the gutters the other day.
Just a week or two ago, a town housing inspector was at the house for a regular review and he nicely pointed out a leaking faucet and the need for gutter repair. He suggested that I have my husband nail up the gutter more securely. I told him that most likely, I would be the one repairing the gutter. His reply, with furrowed brow and deep concern: “Well…be careful!”
Let’s take stock here: We have a ranch-style house which only requires a step ladder to reach the gutters (in the front, at least). I’ve survived many things, including climbing a really high volcano, and enduring two natural childbirths. And this man thinks that I should let my husband take care of it? Interesting.
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