Wednesday, August 13, 2008

One (Hopefully) Giant Leap For Womankind

It's probably been posted all over the feminist blogosphere, but I had had HAD to put it up here. Thanks to Cara over at the Curvature for bringing it to my attention, apparently via Feministing. It's also been cross-posted over at Feministe.

The Democratic Party Platform is looking pretty woman-friendly. Holy shit, maybe someone doesn't hate us after all? It's not everything, it's not perfect, but it's a damn good start- or rather, an improvement on what was started with Roe v. Wade.
I suggest- strongly- that you head over to the Curvature and check out Cara's post. It will make your day better!

I want to hope that things can get better. If this becomes a reality, things will. I promise, America, society will not fail, democracy will not fall. Not any more than they have already, anyway. Women will be safer and more secure in themselves and their lives, and how can that be a bad thing?

I Obsess About Butch-Femme Politics

So I was thinking about this whole butch-femme thing. Is it really as rare as I've heard, is it something more or less than I think it is, do I even know what the hell I think it is?
And I was thinking about the difficulties my Ferret and I have occasionally when it comes to gender roles. And it's all very incoherent and very personal.
I'm a feminist. She's never dated one of those before, apparently. She's a traditionalist. I've never dated one of those, as far as I know. So we have differences in viewpoint when it comes to the things we do, the roles we play in the relationship, and we're still working it out.

One of the most memorable discussions we've had about how our experiences are signified was an argument, actually. I like to argue, sometimes. But this one was frustrating, with me constantly saying things like "I don't want you to pay for my dinner, because I can take care of myself!" "I don't need you to carry my groceries; you do realize I can I carry you around the damn Publix parking lot, right?" What I was saying to her is I'm not helpless, please don't treat me like glass. I work hard to be tough and independent, and I want you to respect me as an equal, not patronize me as though I can't do things for myself. And finally, she said to me: "Look, I know you're my equal. I love that you can take care of yourself. But this is how I was raised. This is how I show you that I love you, it's the only way I know how. It makes me feel good to take care of you, and it makes me happy that you trust me to do these things for you. If you really hate it, tell me what you want me to do instead. Don't just yell at me for telling you that I love you."

And with that, I fell silent. There was nothing I could say. I had never thought of it like that. So now, I take her gestures the way she means them, and don't reject them. It would have been nice if I could have stumbled onto this article before this argument. Sometimes, just like the way she shakes her head and says "Chicks are weird" when my thought processes elude her, I want to say the same thing about her: the butch brain continues to mystify me. As much as I adore her, sometimes the wish to know what she's really thinking makes me pace and jitter and sigh. Why didn't she tell me this before? So now I get it, I think.

On one hand, part of me still wants to argue, wants to say, what if I don't want to be "precious"? Don't want to feel like a lovely, cherished, adored possession? Isn't that what that means? On the other hand, when my partner holds me tight and growls "you're mine", I melt. I am a warm puddle of femme and I feel like I'm in my own private universe with her, which I'm thinking is part of the experience of being femme in the first place.

So, isn't that what subversive gender roles are all about? Femme power being different from, but still equal to, that of our butch counterparts? Very much like BDSM- wherein the Dom has the obvious power- s/he holds the whip, ties the knots, gives the orders. The sub, however, has the unseen and most important power- the power to say, 'stop'. The safeword is an automatic end to the scene, and without a sub, who will the Dom play with? We subs have a great deal of subtle power, and so, I guess, do we femmes.

The thing is, this sounds a lot like the argument many folks make when the subject of male/female equality comes up. "Women have a lot of power- they run the house, they influence the men, they hold the cards sexually." Now completely leaving aside the matter of rape, in which all the so-called 'cards' are yanked out of a woman's hands and shredded, doesn't this sound kind of like "We gave you bitches the vote, what more do you want?"
They're basically calling women- and if we follow the binary gender dynamic to its logical correlation, the femmes- the power behind the throne. We have influence, emotional power, power through or men or butches. And that can be awesome, and scary, and subversive. But it can also be very, very tiresome. I get sick of the indirect route sometimes. I don't want power through someone else! I don't want emotional power- I want tangible power! I wanna wear the pants and make the laws and earn the money and make the decisions! I want the mechanic to talk to me as though I matter and sometimes, I even wanna pay for dinner and carry the groceries.

And sometimes, I want to be protected and have doors opened for me and let someone else take care of me. Yes, honey, you make the decisions today. You deal with the mechanic, he's an asshole anyway. Compliment me on my heels, I wore them because you like them. Will you take the garbage out? And then you can rest your head in my lap and we can tell each other about our day. I want to wear perfume and be enticing; when I take my butch's arm, I want her to look at me with desire and feel proud and amazed that this woman is with her.

So what's a femme-inist to do? Is it possible to let someone else lead, sometimes? Is it possible that trusting her to take care of me isn't an automatic admission of weakness? Is it possible to subvert gender roles by just being who we are, or is playing the butch/femme game a betrayal of everything I try to do and stand for? I'd welcome another femme feminist's point of view on this. Am I making a bigger deal out of this than it has to be? Gah, too many questions, too many question marks. I guess I'll just put it out there and see if anyone has any answers for me, because with this one, I don't think I can find the answer for myself.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Just Once, Dammit!

Just once I'd like to see a commercial for a cleaning, household or cooking product that doesn't involve a woman (with perfectly manicured nails). Just once I'd like to see an ad that shows a man taking care of kids, or cooking dinner, or even *gasp* cleaning like it's a perfectly normal thing instead of some amazing occurrence that will shock his dutiful wife. Seriously, tell me where there's an ad that shows a guy cooking dinner for the family, or worrying about "household odors", or cleaning the bathroom.

The only ads featuring men that I ever see are "Look, this is so simple even a man can do it! (Cause we all know men never cook or clean ever.) And then you'll get brownie points with the wife, guys!" *nudge nudge* Oh, cause all men are hetero and married.
Cause Goddess forbid a man should want to clean because HE doesn't like to see the house looking messy. Or cook cause he/his family is hungry. Oh dearie me, no. That's what wives are for!
Obviously men don't lower themselves to things like housework; it's feminizing. It's like eating, say, quiche, or salad. You'll immediately grow boobs and cry at sad movies.
But if women clean up spills (while the menz just stand there and stare at the spreading liquid like it's a fucking Hypno-Toad or something), well, that's just what women do. Either that, or men are displayed as idiots who can't work a fucking dishwasher without disaster. Yeah-huh. You're masters of the fucking Western World, but can't sort your own socks. I find these commercials kind of insulting to dudes, too.

When it comes to my personal stand? Ferret and I plan to split the chores when we cohabitate. I don't know what the butch/femme etiquette is on this one, and I don't care. I'm not cleaning up after a dude, and I'm not doing it for her. There are some things I'll accept that she doesn't 'get'- IE, never having owned lingerie or dry clean only items in her life, I don't want her to attempt to sort and do my laundry. But vacuuming? That, at least, I think she can handle. And if she doesn't want to or can't spend the time to clean, I plan to use her money to hire a maid to do her share.

(Also can I just say that that fucking refrigerator ad with the whole family expecting the mom to know where everything is like she's a GPS for lost objects- I hate that ad with a fiery fucking passion. Is everyone in that house an idiot? I lose my shit all the time but don't expect my mother or girlfriend to magically know where it is. Dudez, in case you haven't been told this before now: your wife or girlfriend is not a combination of mommy, maid, secretary and sexbot.)

Men don't do housework because they think it is beneath them, and get confused when The Cleaning Fairy puts her fucking foot down.
But of course, in Commercial-Land this will never happen. The women will worry obsessively about soap scum, and the men will wear ties.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Oh, Before I Forget


I found this nifty thing over at Wordle. Go play if you haven't already. It took some doing to figure out how to make it a jpeg. I'm a n00b. Wheeeee, it's pretty. And if I don't post it now, I might forget. So I have. Enjoy. It's 5 am.
"Things that I say are very baffling!"