There was this moment in my Youth Cultures class this morning between the Organ music playing and watching the security guard at the Methadone Clinic; in the midst of religion and addiction we were dealing with "insider research". Felt like a scene out of a angsty teen novel.
For insiders language becomes a chief key to the taste socialization and mood currents that are prevalent in this group at any moment. For outsiders, including adult observers, language becomes a mysterious opacity, constantly carrying peer-group messages which are full of precisions that remain untranslatable.
Given the recent awareness campaigns about cyber-bullying it seems the connection between virtual acts and real-world effects is a source of widespread paranoia. Even as I’m typing this I have to pause and question the forced distinction between the digital realm of the internet and the physical world. Do you think that we want to emphasize the virtualness of the internet in order to downplay its effects, or are we just acknowledging the nature of the beast?
When the group asked “Do you feel that the internet constrains and victimizes women or is it liberating?” I started thinking about the format of the internet. Of course the internet is a medium for any message, and without getting into any conspiracy theories about who owns and manages the digital frontier, it is important to recognize how the internet functions to open up and facilitate the flow of communication. It’s not just emails and social media—it’s the spreading of ideas, discursive practices, rituals, and various modes of resistance. Whether it’s a call to arms or the latest cat meme, it’s all out there…floating and waiting.
I’m not about to say whether the internet is a good thing or bad thing because, first of all, who am I to determine the use-value of the digital titan? No matter how complex my relationship is with the internet, I firmly believe this is only the beginning. (There’s that cryptic cliché I know you hate! Cue the Terminator soundtrack!) There’s always going to be the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to any medium. It’s the lingering shadow of potential and perhaps this is the root of our fear when we contemplate the future of the internet.
Although it is useful to apply gender theories to the concept of cyberbullying in order to understand its existence as a set of gender performances, I do think that trying to categorize the problem seems a bit counterproductive. There are several “types” of bullies and I don’t think we can generalize the action based solely on gender because it then constrains our understanding of the issue. Jessie Daniels makes a similar claim about the observation about cyberfeminism in her article “Rethinking Cyberfeminism(s): Race, Gender, and Embodiment” (2009) by saying “While it is true that many affluent women in the global North have "depressingly familiar" practices when it comes to the Internet, this sort of sweeping generalization suggests a lack of awareness about the innovative ways women are using digital technologies to re-engineer their lives” (p. 103). The internet reflects the good and the bad precisely because it is a medium, so “digital technologies embedded in everyday life allow for the transformation of corporeal and material lives in ways that both resist and reinforce structures of gender and race” (Daniels, 2009, p. 117).
A considerable amount of research has investigated the effects of online social media and our addictions to the web. Although our online profiles and identities offer explorative means to understanding ourselves and other concepts, many critics claim our online lives mean that, in comparison, our physical realities and our “true” lives feel empty or devoid of something. "But you’re profile picture looks soooo different…"
Personally, I am divided about the totality of internet effects, but I do know that I only have one picture on Facebook and it’s my profile picture. It’s been the same picture ever since I created the profile. It’s been the same picture for four years. Interestingly enough, I could care less about changing it, but my friends, well, they care so much that they’re tempted to hack my account and put up a new picture.
“But, guys, you know what I look like. You see me every day. I’m right here. Hello? Here’s my face. Here’s your yearly, monthly, weekly, daily, minutely profile picture update.”
So it finally happened. Can’t say I was prepared. They say you can never be fully prepared.
Oh well. What’s done is done.
Despite the shrug-induced lack of interest on my part, the lines were blurred, Ladies and Gentlemen. Mr. Thicke did all the talking and I just sat back, arms crossed, listened and watched…
Contrary to massive hype for the R-rated version of the song’s music video, I was left mostly disappointed. Of course I don’t know what I expected, and maybe this is part of my own desensitized mentality, but, personally, it didn’t make me want to hunt him down and wag the feminist finger at him. BECAUSE I COULDN’T TAKE HIM OR HIS MUSIC VIDEO SERIOUSLY. Let me muck around in the middle ground for a few moments.
The eventual fuming and eye-rolling occurred afterwards in the frustrating-yet-excellent class discussion and its relevant questions:
#1: Do you believe that nudity is power, or is this just a myth?
Some students argued that if someone wants to stay relevant in the competitive music industry then they have to sexualize themselves. This implies that nudity and the body is infused with a kind of power. Yet nudity is just the presentation of the body. Therefore, we have placed such sacred and explicit feelings on the body as a way to govern ourselves and the resurgence of power.
If we’ve seen more nude celebrities and pure “nobodies” in the media (think graphic internet ads) than people in our everyday lives—as suggested by one student—then what does this say?
#2: Do these images affect how we view ourselves/other women?
Well, we relate mass consumption of these media images with mass approval or acceptance, but is this really the case? Do we feel compelled to follow or accept it as normal, while still withholding our own perceptions of who we are? Is this even possible?
#3: Do you think there should be restrictions on objectification in videos?
This question circles the issue of censorship. How far are we willing to go to protect and construct certain modes of being? What happens to free expression? Privacy is irreparably tied to security. How much are we willing to sacrifice for the sake of something we believe in?
If we ban Robin Thicke’s song and music video, what other things must too be banned?
#4: Do the models in the video represent female empowerment by embracing their sexuality or are they merely shown and exploited through the male gaze?
I am beginning to realize that the controversial element of this video is largely based in the realm of interpretation. Every controversial thing ever always boils down to hermeneutics and the game of interpretation. We cannot possibly predict the actions and motivations of the models in the video. How are we to determine the authenticity of what they say? Anybody can lie and we all know we can be confused while standing by what we say. More importantly, who are we to cast this evaluation in the first place?
Do we privilege authorial intent?
The director wanted…Robin Thicke wanted…It was made for/because/by/through this…so get your facts straight.
[Insert Model’s Quote] and you have your proof.
Or do we privilege the reader/audience’s interpretation?
Roland Barthes: “There is no outside the text.” I think…I, I, I…We think…
There is no consensus about what we privilege. Personally, I think this is a really, really good thing.
There are so many blurred lines and our lives are devoted to bringing the lens into focus. The beauty of this? Every picture will be different.
Do you think if we say the word enough times the signified act will lose its illicit connotations?
[cough] Um, with the increasing amount of representations and the nudge-nudge-wink-wink’s to porn in film, literature, and in media in general, it begs the question; Has the porn industry become more acceptable in today’s society?
Well, promoted events like Sex Expos suggest that we are blurring the boundaries between the private and public realm of sexuality. If porn is being discussed then we are entering a space with more open conversations about sexuality and so porn has the potential to be normalized. This normalization poses a substantial threat because the industry has a terrible reputation. Social and cultural theorists have documented the damaging effects of the porn industry on the actors and actresses, as well as the unequal gender relations perpetuated by this system. Just look to the writing of Gloria Steinem and you’ll be convinced of the industry’s irrefutable evil. Yet, I am interested in the possibility of porn’s normalization not because I approve of the embedded narratives of "manly-man tosses around womanly-woman", but because the existence of this possibility shows how much we shelter sexuality in the first place.
The film After Porn Ends (2010) invites us to see how the community supposedly (and “wrongly”) devalues the lifestyle of the porn star by showing how some of the actors and actresses live after their career. One ex-porn star reveals how she was fired from her realtor position because her firm found out that she used to be a porn star. So we see again and again the educating trope of how the past comes back to slap us in the face. But where does the blame originate from? Do we blame the woman for choosing to be a porn star? Do we blame the constricted conservatism of the firm? Do we blame the industry? Do we blame society?
First, we need to get away from this addictive deferral of blame by saying “because of society”. Proportioning most of the blame and the root of all evil onto this constructed idea of the whole is lazy and unproductive. (Oh, so you say society was to blame? Alrighty then! Let me get out my baseball bat and show this bugger whose right…Yeah right.) If we keep sectioning our own guilt onto the big Other then we lose most, if not all, of the drive to enforce change.
Second, what these questions really ask is where does choice begin and where does it end? Where is agency located? Perhaps this intense scrutiny of the “irresponsibility” of the porn star has less to do with our evaluation of their personal morals, and more to do with the maintenance of power as it relates with gender and sexuality. We establish the delicate subject of sex and create very particular boundaries. We protect the sexual discourse in order to monitor and manage power. (Reading Michel Foucault really does change your perspective. His ideas are contagious.) On some level we all perceive the power-play within sexuality, and so we are hypersensitive to the causes and effects of the porn industry.
Finally, could the vast incrimination of the porn star be explained through this perception of the actor as a perpetrator of the system? If so, why are we incriminating the system? Yes, there are highly persuasive theories of porn’s reflection of unequal gender structures, and there seems to be an endless amount of statistics and evidence to support these theories. In their article “Being a Body: Women’s Appearance Related Self-Views and their Dehumanization of Sexually Objectified Female Targets” (2013), Elisa Puvia and Jeroen Vaes conclude how “it is possible to hypothesize that the dehumanization of sexually objectified women is driven by such feelings of competition” (p. 493). Therefore, this incrimination can function as evidence of the intensified, yet downplayed competition among and within the genders. However, pride (including my own!) convinces us to bypass this conclusion.
We don’t want to validate the porn star because the resulting scrutiny would destabilize the system of sexuality we have established. If we are to overturn the discourse, we need to talk.
During the summer I worked for a major home improvement retailer. Being a woman in a generally male dominated workplace, you can imagine that the gender stereotypes were plentiful. However, out of all the stereotypical offensive scenarios I could retell, the memory that nags and nags and nags is when one of my co-workers called me more “girly” than her.
Being labelled “girly” does not offend me, but why does this moment stick out so much? Well, first, I consider myself a neutral party in the fashion scene. I am a frugal spender. I love colour. I go out of my way to purchase clothes without the brand logo sprayed across the shoulders or the company name stamped on the backside. I avoid brand promotion at all costs. I like simple styles. I never wear makeup. Second, this co-worker and I are pretty good friends. She has a big personality, but we have scarily similar interests. We’re both unabashed geeks. On the other hand, her style is a combination of Prep, Skater, and Bohemian. She often wore glitter eyeliner, even at work.
Now if stereotypes are heavily weighted in someone’s appearance, I thought my co-worker and I were fairly similar. I considered both of us exhibiting a similar kind of femininity. Yet when she noted how much more “girly” I was compared to her, this caught me by surprise. I forget the conversation we were having, but I remember going home afterwards and wondering; “Really? More girly?”.
Months later and I am still haunted by her seemingly harmless comment. If perception is still dependent on stereotypical feminine articles of clothing, my only claim to more “girliness” that I can think of is that I carried a purse to work, whereas she carried a backpack. I specifically remember her saying “I don’t do purses.”
Still…really? One purse and that makes me more feminine? Huh.
Of course I am prevented from seeing the entirely scenario objectively. Darn bias. Also, no matter how much effort I devote to my appearance, anyone’s perception of who I am is out of my hands the moment they see me.
A discussion about the production and marketing of gendered tools reminded me of my summer job. Then when a classmate said “We like to put people in a box once we meet them”, I was then reminded of this incident with my co-worker. This forced me to realize that stereotypes are obnoxious little realities of our lives. They don’t hide. In fact, stereotypes are absolutely everywhere and in everything. We like to think we become immune to them, but then one particular stereotype will suddenly rear its ugly head and we’re shocked by its potency. Shows like Yahoo’s The Flip Side expose the ridiculousness and arbitrariness of stereotypes by flipping them onto the opposite gender. A large part of the humour that is derived from this show, and shows like it, is from the acute wrongness of the stereotype as it is voiced by the other sex or gender.
I don’t particularly care if I am seen more or less “girly” than I think I am. I am slowly coming to accept that people will judge me and my purse however they want. The issue of stereotypes reaches beyond our ability to identify them. It is how we respond and interact with the nasty little things that encourage any kind of change.
This relationship is far too complicated and trying to disentangle gendered appearances is an endless, scorned process.
In one dissection of this “Dress Code”, Sara L. Crawley admits “Dresses ARE femininity to me and I don't understand why everyone seems so hell bent on expecting my participation in what I perceive as my own disabling” (p. 78). Crawley offers so many great insights in her article “‘They Still Don't Understand Why I Hate Wearing Dresses!’ An Autoethnographic Rant on Dresses, Boats, and Butchness” (2002), but she lost a bit of my critical applause with that statement. Why does femininity have to be disabling? Isn’t it possible to appropriate The Dress and therefore overturn the connotations of femininity? Why is femininity always subverted with this notion of passivity, while masculinity is bolstered with inherent activity?
In an attempt to analyze my odd relationship with dresses, I’m finding it hard to distinguish what I force myself to think from what I truly think.
So, yes, I rarely wear dresses. This is one of the features that enhance my “tom-boyish” façade. While trying to identify the source of this choice—and if I am completely honest with myself—it is not so much that I have a particular estrangement with the article clothing because of my “tom-boyish” identity, but it actually develops from a type of anxiety. On one level, my personal hesitance or reluctance to wear dresses stems from a fear of inadequacy. I associate The Dress with femininity and so my wearing it would draw attention to my “girliness” (or lack thereof).
Did you see that? Why do I feel the need to add the self-deprecating commentary?
It is precisely this self-consciousness that makes The Dress so scary. I force myself to believe that if I wear a dress, I am automatically drawing attention to the obvious effort or inappropriateness of my wearing the dress. In other words, it is this perceived awkwardness or incompatibility to the connoted femininity attached to the dress that causes me to skip the dress rack.
BUT.
I like dresses. I like visualizing dresses on others. I like imagining dresses on myself. I like drawing women with dresses. I have no filter when it comes to criticizing the bride’s choice. Those early Victorian get-ups are gorgeous. I can only describe this part of myself as a strange thrill or a fundamental quirk.
How much is this relationship with The Dress a rejection of the feminine symbol? How much of it is the choice to enact the constructed identity from The Other (Tom-boy)? How much of it is a choice? How much of this is self-inflicted? How much of this is a reflection of my own will to be me? (Whatever “me” that is…)
I only own three dresses and two skirts because I had to wear them to certain events and to those sticky rites of passage. You know—weddings, funerals, The Prom.
The fact that I feel compelled to include the word “had” is a guise. In order penetrate this guise; I will have to unearth some deeply rooted superficiality. And this demands so much mental strength, not in the sense that I have to be highly perceptive to catch the psychological influences, but because doing so seems inevitably depressing. I like to think I’m a decent human being, guys.
Crawley has a similar observation in her article when she describes how gender is conflated with the concept of ableism. She claims “My point is that I have had to learn that I am able” (2002, p. 82).
My point is that I still have to learn that I am able and I am not even sure if I want to.
Ever-present surveillance represses difference. The judgment comes from everywhere, until eventually it comes from inside in the form of self-doubt and self-judgment.
Sara L. Crawley, "They Still Don't Understand Why I Hate Wearing Dresses!" An Autoethnographic Rant on Dresses, Boats, and Butchness
It’s far too easy to picture the abusive, domineering Alpha-Male who pats her head and says “I’m very pleased. I wonder if it will be a boy or girl…”
Yet, contemporary television dramas, like Grey’s Anatomy, seem to suggest that the macho-man is more complicated than we think. The one-dimensional brute is fading into the past. He is more interesting nowadays. The willingness to accept emotions, and express opinions, are no longer the designated traits of one sex or one gender. (Possibly some wishful thinking here because this level of freedom varies between cultures and depends on multiple factors.) Yet, men and women’s sympathies to the Father and Mother mean the question is getting more complex, and the answer is less obvious.
First, men have always wanted children. To suggest that we have “advanced” because men are apparently more involved in the pregnancy process seems a bit convoluted. Both women and men are capable of wanting children. Sometimes the man wants children more than the other partner. Sometimes the woman wants children more than the other partner.
Second, let’s tackle that sneaky, little word called “childless”. The word already has negative connotations. The addition of “-less” implies the “lack” of something that is absent in making the whole complete. The woman is less than complete. She is “less” than. Just as you would not identify a Brunette as “Blondless”, or an Apple as “Orangeless”, let’s strip away this notion of “childless”. The existence of children is the not the determining factor of an individual’s wholeness. Worth is not the crying toddler in the cereal aisle. Julia McQuillan, et al. (2008), includes an incredible insight in their article “The Importance of Motherhood Among Women in the Contemporary United States” by observing how “the construction of “mother” and “worker” as necessarily opposed identities is based on a false assumption about women’s identities and attitudes” (p. 492).
Give us some breathing room!
Obviously it’s extremely difficult to balance a successful career and an active family life. In fact, establishing some sort of compromise between the two appears to be more work than devoting yourself entirely to just one role. However, to set up an “either-or” choice is to splinter an individual’s potential. They ask; be a great mother/father or have a great career? I say, “Be you.” There ain’t no biological clock, dearie. Toss that social shame out the window. Relieve that pressure by deciding what will make you happiest. And if it doesn’t turn out just right, try again. And again.
Grab that double-edged sword, hack off one end, and attach a new customized handle.
Selfish? Really? Can someone please explain when that term begins and ends? If managing my own body is “selfish”, someone needs to grab me a dictionary. (So I can throw it against a wall.)