Adios Amigas (until September)!

Hello Lovely Readers,

I've been pretty much totally absent from the blog the last few weeks because of work and general summer busy-ness. And tomorrow I'm leaving for a three week trip to Mexico, so I won't be writing again until September. I'm going with my friend Melissa to visit her extended family in a small town in the Guerrero province, Coacoyula, and Mexico City. I speak practically no Spanish, and her family speaks no English, so it will definately be an adventure. Hopefully, I will pick up a little Spanish and have some things to write about when I return.

Also, I was in Chicago last week for Lollapalooza (which was amazing; how I love you Amy Millan of Broken Social Scene), and I stopped to get some coffee. While I was waiting, I started talking to the woman in line behind me who had complimented my hair color (I just dyed it from blonde to brown). She explained that she was a male to female transgender woman going through transition, and she was trying to decide what color to do her hair. We chatted for a bit about our favorite make-up brands, hair colors, and the quest for a perfect little black dress. After getting our coffee we parted ways, but it just reminded me about the truth behind the name of our blog. We all have to work to be "women" whether we were born that way or not.

Have a good rest of August! I will talk to you all in September.
love.

On Staying Single

Notice that I am not just single currently, but that I am  staying single. This was not a conscious decision. I did not sit down one day, feminist ideology in hand, and decide to stay single for political reasons. It just happened. I haven't been in a relationship for two years. For a woman in her twenties, this is so odd as to be alien.

When I was in middle school, nothing could have been more important than being in or wanting to be in a relationship. Boys were just beginning to notice me, probably because I was one of the first girls to have her breasts grow beyond the mosquito bite phase. Luckily for me, I did not grow up in the Paris Hilton era. Britney Spears was still keeping most of her clothes on the late 90s when the pre-teen girl uniform of choice was polo shirts, short shorts, and high ponytails.

Regardless, my desire for a boyfriend and to look good had nothing to do with my sexual desire. Although I had curves and breasts to rival any grown woman, my sexual drive had not matured. I heard about masturbation, mostly from the eighth grade boys, but such things held no interest for me. Even the extremely progressive books on puberty that my parents bought me detailed male masturbation explicitly, although some of them spend a bit of time on female masturbation as well. Curious, I attempted this masturbation a couple of times. Nothing really much happened, presumably because my sexual drive had yet to develop (it would in high school), so I gave that up.

Why then, was the pinnacle of pre-teen social life the drive to attract boys? I obviously did not know what to do with them when I got them, and I had no sexual desire for them. I was putting on a performance, plain and simple. The dominant social message of the time, and I assume it has gotten worse lately, was that a girl should aim to look sexy and have sex, but her own enjoyment of the sexual act had nothing to do with it. This held true for my twelve year-old self: I was not attracted to boys in a sexual manner, and I had no personal desire for sex. I was simply responding to social norms. If I said a boy was cute, it was not the case that I was attracted to him. I simply recognized that he fit within the acceptable range of male appearances, and I wanted him to want me. My desires did not play into the equation at all.

As I moved on from middle school and entered high school, my sexual drive finally blossomed. I had a healthy desire for sex and masturbation by the time I was fifteen. Still, however, I cannot think of a time that I wanted a boy more than I wanted him to want me and the social power I would gain by being sexy and attached to a suitable male. I was also doing battle with my monstrous crush on my female friend at the time by denying to myself that I probably was not as straight as I would like to be. Nevertheless, the idea of a boy competing for me or spending time on his appearance for me was laughable. By the time elaborate hair and makeup routines were the norm for girls my age, boys had yet to grasp the concept of showering daily.

Simply put, being sexy was more important than being sexual. The conflicting messages of abstinence and MTV had done battle, and the result was "be sexy, be hot, be available and wanted. Your sexuality is shameful." It was not important that boys were attractive, and they largely were not, it was important that I was attractive to them. Due to my extremely extroverted personality and unwillingness, even then, to play weak or dumb, I never succeeded.

In college, the drive to be wanted and not to want became funny in its intensity. The antics of my peers inspired mental images out of a porno: buckets of male ejaculation everywhere, but no elusive female orgasm. Men were still boys, and still had not grasped the basics of hygiene that were common sense to the average eleven year-old girl. And why would they? All around them women were wearing next to nothing and viciously fighting for their attention with deeper tans, deeper v-necks, and higher shoes. All they had to do was sit back and enjoy.

After a disastrous series of boyfriends where the male orgasm was far more present in our relationships than the female orgasm, I had the luck to fall into Feminism by way of a Women's Studies course. Among the considerable changes in my life, I stopped wanting men to want me if I did not want them back.

Simply, if my sexual pleasure had no part in the equation, I wanted nothing to do with men. If they were not attractive, their attention was gross and creepy. It was surprisingly easy to find my dry spells becoming longer and longer, only broken up by my mostly pleasurable forays into lesbian relationships.

How was this so? Once I gave up performing the sexy routine, guys largely did not want me. Which was fine with me, because most guys my age hadn't touched a razor or bar of soap in half a week. My university was like a scene out of a pornography: most of the women were conventionally attractive, but the men were as lazy with their appearances as they were with their health.

Today, I find it pathetically funny how my pursuit of my own pleasure--wanting attractive men, wanting sexual fulfillment--removed me from the dating scene. By raising my standards to men that I wanted, instead of men that wanted me, I had to find men that spend a comparable amount of time on their appearance and would be invested in my pleasure as much as their own. Unsurprisingly, the men who spent as much time in front of a mirror as I did (which wasn't much, considering that I stopped tanning and wearing large amounts of makeup) were the ones that dated the most feminine women, who had the personality of swine, or who were more interesting in acting out their favorite pornography than pleasing their significant other.

What I realize today is that the dating scene revolves around male pleasure. Male orgasms, male lust, male appreciation of beauty. If I wanted female orgasms, my lust, and my appreciation of male beauty I was holding out for something that did not exist. Or, if it did, it was not available to me once I stopped tanning, obsessing about how flat my abs were, and wearing hundreds of dollars of makeup.

In conclusion, I stay single because it's pathetically easy, but not by my design. Perhaps one day I might stumble upon a man who is as invested in looking good for me as I would be invested in looking good for him. Instead of me wanting him to want me and him wanting me, I would want him and he would want me. Then we could meet in the middle, form a relationship based on mutual attraction, admiration, and lust.

How sad that society has made such things the exception, and not the norm.

(Cross-posted)

A Feminist Tour of Cosmopolitan: July Issue 2008

I recently received the July 2008 edition of Cosmopolitan as a joke for my birthday, and I thought that it would be interesting to examine it from a feminist perspective. This is what I found:

The Cover:
Carrie Underwood. Well, at least she’s dressed. Better than most covers, where the women look like they are "dressed" for men’s magazines. Also the cover says “man” “he” or “guy” seven times but “women” or “she” only once.

After the credits, we have the “Cosmo Beauty Coupons!” OMGZ!

Then we have a couple of pages of ads: make-up, soap, face cream, shoes.

Next the “Why Don’t You…” section. “Why don’t you get a killer bikini butt, make sangria, seduce a dude with soft skin, treat him to a chilly thrill, stay on your guy’s mind 24/7?” Well, I think it’s become obvious that this is a heteronormative magazine. And we haven’t even gotten to the articles yet.

Then comes the “Hot Sheet: 10 Things Being Buzzed About Right Now”. I think my favorites are number 3, 5, and 7.
3. “Decoding Dude Dates” informs the reader how to determine if two guys out together are dating or just friends. If they are gay, Cosmo writer Molly Fahner explains, they may: whisper, share an armrest, eat from the same popcorn, or sit with their feet on the floor. But, if they are just friends, they will talk loudly, keep their spaces separate, and eat from individual bags.
5. “56: The percentage of women who would rather be thinner than smarter.”
7. “Saving Men” Yep. Cosmo wrote about the book “Save the Males.” And gave it merit.

The Carrie Underwood interview comes next. It’s a pretty standard celebrity interview detailing her love life and asking if she considers herself a “good girl” or a “bad girl”.

“Why You May Be Avoiding Love” explains that women are putting off marriage longer and longer, which it encourages. Okay, that’s good. 1 Point for Cosmo.

Well, minus that point. I flipped the page to find the question and accompanying photos “Cheek Peek vs. Bare Butt”. And I got to ask myself the immortal question: Do I prefer Kate Hudson in a regular bikini or a thong bikini? Almost as thought provoking as “To be or not to be”?

Another make-up ad and then the regular feature, “Sexy vs. Skanky”; keeping it classy every month, Cosmo, with this column.

Then the “Confessions” and “Guy Confessions” feature with a several anecdotes about embarrassing moments and silly stories. Pretty standard magazine fare.

A few more ads, including an Axe ad.

“The Man Report” attempts to help women understand men (because men all think and act the same).

Next Cosmo helps its readers understand their man by the position he sleeps in. Nothing like avoiding actual communication with your partner.

Another section on understanding the men comes next. Nothing too shocking.

More ads.

Then the “Guy without his shirt”, this month featuring 24 year old, Brett Novek from Florida and his very chiseled chest.

Then there’s an interview with Usher and a few more ads.

Then a couple of “stories” on clothing, which are really ads.
Followed by a few “stories” on makeup, which are really ads.
Then a few “stories” on hair, perfume, skin, and hair, which are really ads.

An interview with Vanessa Hudgens, and more ads.

Then an article on having “Extra-Naughty Sex.” I am all for exploring your body and having any kind of sex you like, but this article encourages women to try new kinds of sex for their partner’s pleasure, not their own. (There is one line about how adventurous sex affects adrenaline and dopamine in the brain will affect the reader’s pleasure, but the vast majority of the article focuses on the benefits for the man) Of course, partner’s pleasure is important, but with only 30% of women having an orgasm every time and 74% of men having orgasms every time they have sex, being a little selfish in bed is acceptable.

Next Cosmos readers will discover “50 Tiny Gestures That Make Him Love You More”. Many of the tips are sweet, but some are just silly: “Buy him a big, manly flashlight (a “manly flashlight” seriously?!).”

An article about masturbation is featured next. Yay for masturbation! But, seriously, good for Cosmo for encouraging women to explore their bodies and discover what gives them pleasure.

“Advice Guy Pals Want to Give You” is basically another article written to help women understand men.

Then “The Hottest Words to Say During Sex” tells women what to say when they orgasm, so men will know they’ve done a good job. Okay…

“Ask Him Anything” is a sex advice column, followed by the fictional “Bedroom Blog”.

“The Cosmo Post” features stories about real women such as “Running On Hope” about a running club for the homeless and “My Dad Was a Sperm Donor.”

More ads.

Then “Summer Dangers You Don’t Think About” includes “Road Hazards”, “Hiking Trails”, “Biking and Jogging Paths” and “Anywhere After Dark.” That’s nice, Cosmo, make women afraid to go anywhere after dark.

Another ad posing as a “story”.

Then the “Bitch It Out” section, featuring women’s stories about what is pissing them off this month. Sigh. I really hate the word “bitch”.

A few more standard magazine articles.

Oh, wonderful. “10 Signs You’re Being Too Bitchy” it’s a satire article, but the use of the word “bitch” again makes me very uncomfortable.

Then, “Fascinating Facts About Rich Guys”. This blog has gotten comments calling all women golddiggers, and I’ve often wondered where they come from. None of my friends plan on marrying a guy for his money. But, I think we’ve found the source of these rumors.

“Caught Butt Naked” is a collection of anecdotes about being caught having sex.

A fashion spread featuring a white model.
Another fashion spread featuring a white model.

Some more standard magazine articles.

Then, Cosmo has an article on STDs. Okay, cool.

An astrology page is next. Pretty standard.

Next is Cosmo’s “Red-Hot Reads” which features an excerpt from an “erotic novel.”

A few pages of ads.

A quiz: “Do Guys See You As Girlfriend Material?”

Cosmo is a magazine. Its meant to be light and silly. But, the tone of the magazine is decidedly regressive. Between the pages and pages of ads, Cosmo re-inforces some pretty sorry ideas and sets the standard for other women's magazines.

I think my dream women's magazine would be radically different. It would feature an awesome female blogger on the cover (Jessica from Feministing, maybe) and have articles about travel, news, food and stories about friendship and lasting love (between people of all races, genders, religions, and economic classes). What would your ideal magazine look like?

Makeup: A Rad Fem's Dilemma

Makeup was my right of passage to womanhood. My parents absolutely refused to let me wear it until I was thirteen, and then only in muted shades and small amounts. Looking at the over-sexualized images of pre-teen girls in the media and my younger brother's yearbook, I can honestly say that I am grateful to my parents. Makeup wouldn't have made me less self-conscious, and would have taken a sizable chunk out of my allowance--and when I was 16, wages.

Now, I do not wear anywhere near as much makeup as I used to at 16, and even 18. Although I am in my 20s, I am often mistaken for a teenager because of my short stature and lack of "smoky sex kitten" makeup; even while bar-hopping I prefer light makeup.

However, my guilt over buying and wearing eye liner, blush, powder, and mascara persists. Am I a bad feminist because I sometimes like how I look with makeup better than au natural? Given that I self-identify as a radical feminist, am I somehow falling sort of the label? Do I invite men to look upon me as an object or sexually available?

I know that people perceive me as stereotypically feminine the more makeup and gendered clothing, like mini-skirts, I wear. More doors are held open (literal, not metaphorical), I am addressed as "honey" instead of "ma'am", and men smile at me more. Although, I never get the respect I want from co-workers and professors no matter how little makeup I wear, or how much. Professors that are enthusiastic about taking my male peers under their wing hesitate to do the same for me and fellow female classmates because we are female. A male professor, and most of mine are male, sponsoring a female student is rare simply because the professors are afraid of the perception that they are sleeping with us, or they simply don't think of us in any sense other than a sexual one. Even in sweatpants and no makeup, my male professors will not invite me to lunch to discuss further the symbolization of Aristotle's classical dilemmas because being female means that I am always potentially a sex object, never a peer or a prodigal student. All of my sponsors in my field have been female. I am lucky that my university employs many female Philosophy professors, because otherwise, I sincerely doubt that I would have had the opportunity to do as much as I have.

This constant perception of being a sex object: am I only fueling it by wearing makeup and gendered clothing? If I'm not dressed up, am I still responsible for the actions of others because of my female mannerisms?

My answer is a resounding no. My choice of clothing and face-paint should not affect my opportunities in life. How much eye shadow I do or do not wear does not affect the poignancy of my thesis. In my ideal world, men and women would wear as little or as much makeup as they please, and it would not affect any situation outside the contexts where makeup and gendered clothing are relevant.

Besides, I am kept at a distance professionally by male superiors regardless of how little makeup I wear or how long my skirt is. Feminism, I think, is about choices. I choose my gender-identity. I like being pretty and female. What I do not like is being patronized, belittled, and sexually objectified in a context in which such attention is entirely inappropriate.

In the same way that "promiscuous" women are responsible for the bad behavior of their male peers, every woman is held responsible for the sexism of their colleagues because of how she dresses or acts. Too frumpy and she is a slacker or a frigid bitch. Too feminine and she is a sex object or a coy flirt. I am always defined in terms of "fuckable" or "not fuckable" every second of the day because women, regardless of how they dress, act, or look, are members of the sex class and thus may be belittled, shamed, over sexualized, and harassed with the justification that anyone with a vagina is simply "asking for it".

My choice to wear makeup is my business. A woman's choice to get breast implants is her business. It should be obvious that the choice to sexualize women out of context and act like sexist dog is precisely that: a choice.

How people attack women who choose to do something perfectly legal that makes her feel good about herself and defend those who choose to be assholes is completely illogical. The phenomenon of blaming the victim saturates every justification of harassment, violence, and injustice that women and even young girls suffer daily.

I say, enough already! If the choices I make are always wrong and the injustice I suffer is always right, then what choice do I have? I choose to please myself, and only myself. Fuck everyone else. I sharpen my eye pencil and apply it to my upper lid because I think I look good when I do. If my best male friend thought he did too, I would let him borrow mine without a sideways glance.

Treating women like objects is also a choice. The idea that it is the fault of the evil female temptress, her gender fallen from grace by the actions of her ancestor in the garden of Eden, is nothing but unadulterated bullshit and should be treated as such.

Girls Heart Science

This article in The New York Times definitely made me smile today.

A group of ten-year old girls, some with scientist mothers, had a "party" consisting of learning about the ingredients in various make-up products and making their own lipsticks.

While, I was hesitant at first about this article, thinking it was a little bit of gendered thinking to let girls learn about science through make-up, I am very glad to hear about young girls getting involved in science in anyway, and, if they are additionally learning about the various skeezy products we put on our faces all the better.

Best quote of the article: “O.K., so there’s no pig fat in lipstick, but people are still spending hundreds of dollars on a tube of fatty goop." - One of the ten-year old participants