Sexism didn't disappear in my hiatus: "rock like men" edition.

So I'm back. My hiatus was full to bursting with grad school applications and other sources of personal angst. I pulled through. As the title suggests, though, the forces of sexism took no such hiatus. I wish the nefarious forces of sexism had to write, compile and pay for a few dozen grad school apps. That wouldn't leave much time or money for oppression and discrimination.

When I arrived at work yesterday morning, I asked co-blogger HB if she had read that morning's thought homogenizer (this is what I call Washington Post Express, the free newspaper everyone reads on the metro. oh, excuse me, some people read the ... Examiner? It's barely a real thing). She had, but had avoided the article that drew my ire, because when she saw that there was a writeup on a female-fronted rock band, she feared the worst. HB was correct. This article is THE WORST. Particularly the last few paragraphs. Here they are, courtesy of writer Nathan Martin (extra points for two dude-names!!)

The fast-driving music, irreverent humor and whiskey-fueled live shows might earn Those Darlins fans, but being a band fronted by females still comes with a predictable price.

"We're treated pretty much like you'd expect a female band to be treated: People call us an all-girl band when we're not," said Kvarnes, referring to drummer Linwood Regensberg. "Who gives a [expletive] if we're girls? We're not singing about feminist subjects; we're just a bunch of goofy people who like to have a good time and play fun music."

But even Darlins can dish out sarcastic sass when provoked.

"We get the fratty dudes being, like, 'Oh, great — a girl band. I bet they're going to sing about their periods or something, but you guys were actually good,' and I'm like, 'Oh, we were actually good. Thanks a lot, you ..." We had to delete the rest, in case there's any doubt a trio with a cuddly name can fight — and rock — like men.

Alright, my problems with this are numerous. First there's the old "but we're not feminists!!" canard. Ok, sure, you're making music that you feel is broadly relatable and not alienating to people who do not identify as feminists. But the very act of getting up, playing music and telling the stories of three young women from the point of view of said young women (and in the process illustrating that you're "just a bunch of goofy people" and not necessarily defined by your sex/gender)? Yep, that's a feminist act. And you should be thanking your feminist forebears on all places of the radical-ness spectrum for the fact that you have the ability to do it.

I'll cut the quoted musicians a small amount of slack because they didn't get to choose which quotes were used and one of them took the swipe at the casual misogyny of "fratty" dudes. The writer slips in a doozy of his own, though, in the closing sentence. "..in case there's any doubt that a trio with a cuddly name can fight -- and rock -- like men." This one really pissed me off. First, it comes directly after a paragraph expressing the anoyance of one of the musicians at being called an all female band, and then does exactly that. They're not a trio with a cuddly name, they're a quartet. The male drummer is a "Darlin'" too. And then the assertion that they fight and rock like men. Well, I bet the drummer, who's a man, is really glad to hear that ...? And I bet that the women in the band -- who categorically do NOT rock like men, by virtue of rocking while women and therefore rocking LIKE women -- are probably relieved to hear that they have, in the opinion of this one dude, exceeded the natural limitations imposed by their ladybits? And I'm sure that Janis Joplin, Grace Slick, Chrissie Hynde, Debbie Harry, Joan Jett, Alanis on that one album (you know which one), Siouxsie Sioux, Kathleen Hannah, and SO MANY OTHERS are glad to hear that it's still only men who rock. To the point that there aren't even any female rockers to make a comparison to.

Meanwhile, the rest of us who aspire to do X (whatever is is that we do, outside of the very narrow prescribed confines of femininity and acceptable female endeavors), are interested to learn that to be taken seriously we will have to do it like men. You know, the default humans.

In other news, Those Darlins are pretty decent. Some of their songs are quite catchy. Here's their website, and the picture that appeared with the article. Apologies to their drummer, who did not make the band photo due to not fitting in with the "all girl bannnddd1!!?!" dog and pony show.

More of Dear Prudence's Sexist Advice

A particularly obnoxious bit of advice from The Slate's advice columnist was the sexist straw that broke the feminist's back last summer, when I decided to launch this blog to air my grievances with her advice column and any other media I felt compelled to write about, and had time to write about.

You don't have to dig particularly far to expose "Prudie's" slut shaming, heteronormative, woman-hating advice for what it is, but I still read her column most Thursdays for the surprise grand slams. Every once in a while, "Prudie" just drops some bullshit into my lap. It hardly even needs analyzing, it's so preposterous as-is. In today's column, I got lucky.

Dear Prudence,
I'm a new teacher at a private tutoring firm. We give one-on-one lessons to kids ages 13 to 18. I've twice had the experience of sitting at a table with a male student and seeing the student "adjust" himself. Both times, the student actually put his hand down his pants. The first time, I was so shocked I couldn't hide the expression on my face, and the 17-year-old asked what was wrong. I told him firmly but kindly that it was not appropriate to do that in public and that if he was ever uncomfortable, he should use the bathroom. The second time was with a 14-year-old student. I tried not to say anything, but then he started typing on my computer, so I had to say, "It's not appropriate to put your hands down your pants in public." He protested, "Well, it itches!" I replied that scratching there in public, especially going inside the pants, was still inappropriate. When he left, I broke out the Lysol and germ wipes. Did I handle this
in an acceptable manner? What should I do if it happens again? And shouldn't teenage boys already know not to do this?
—Desperate for a Public Service Announcement to Teenage Boys

Dear Desperate,
For insight into "adjustments," I talked to my resident expert on the intricacies of teenage-male behavior, my 14-year-old daughter. She observed: "If boys don't understand something in class, or if during P.E. they need an extra boost of confidence, you can see them putting their hand in their pants. Some of the boys, every time they're going to throw a ball, they put their hand in their pants first! It's so funny. But it's not like they're 26 years old and perverts; they're
just boys. None of the teachers say anything. Sometimes if the girls see them and they're being really gross, we'll say, 'Get your hand out of your pants!' " (My daughter also explained that females have a more socially acceptable outlet: "If you're a girl and you're nervous, you flip your hair.") One-on-one tutoring with an adult woman puts a boy in a high-stress situation, and I'm surprised so few of them have grabbed for some comfort. If you have a student who spends the entire session holding on for dear life, you should have a male co-worker pull him aside for a little chat. But some teenage boys, in need of a brief shot of reassurance, are occasionally going to seek out something handy. Eventually, the taunts from their peers should wean them off this habit—after all, you aren't complaining that your male colleagues are drifting pantsward when they need a lift. Ignore the occasional adjustment, and if supporting the disinfectant industry makes you feel more secure, wipe away.

—Prudie

This exchange left me totally baffled. So first, there's the classic "boys will be boys" excuse for this, admittedly, unhygenic and bizarre behavior. Yes, I'm aware that sometimes adjustment is necessary, but I can't help but think about what would happen if a young woman's hands wandered down her pants or into her bra in public--people wouldn't assume it was for a confidence boost. And since when is one teenager's bizarre interpretation of this phenomena a universal truth? Why would making sure your penis is still intact equate to self-assurance? It's probably partially pleasure-seeking behavior, which is typically acceptable for men and not women. Babies play with their genitals, and young men get a free pass for being immature and inappropriate, while young women do not. Sounds like some sexual privilege to me.

Oh, but then there's the notion that girls also have a universal nervous tick: hair-flipping. I love the very clear distinction between boys' behavior and girls' here, and that the boys' is tied to their physical sex while girls' is tied to the socially constructed gender, and specifically the beauty standard of long, white hair (the better to flip with, my dear!). And the fact is, that's not really comparing apples to apples. That's comparing head-hair to genitals. A real equivalency would be exploring the idea of a social reaction to girls grabbing crotch constantly. But we wouldn't want to make "Prudie" think too hard on sex, would we? Let's just ask the nearest teenager what he or she thinks.

Fellow blogger Liz also points out that the hair-flipping is not only a beauty standard and gender-identity assumption for all females, it's also not a biological response like genital-grabbing. At least we can say that the boys' behavior is well-documented in babies, and thus not necessarily taught and learned, whereas hair-flipping is absolutely a learned behavior associated with flirting. It's another way young girls are supposed to be fun and sexy, but not sexual.

And I always love the "girls have it so much better than boys!"canards that pop up in media. In this case, assuming that all girls flip their hair to ease stress, that's a much more acceptable way of boosting confidence than grabbing one's genitals. Teenage girls are so lucky to have this universally feminine pep-talk-in-a-can. Forget the fact that teen girls' self-confidence takes a much more thorough lashing than boys' at that age, through media and social expectations.

When I Grow Up

I want to be the New York Times film critic, because Manhola Dargis is my new hero after reading this Jezebel interview.

Although, I'm not afraid to be the feminist movie critic. That's what I prefer to be. Now that grad school applications are signed, sealed and delivered, I'm all yours, blogosphere. And I've got a lot to tell you.

A White Woman's Shallow Understanding of Black Hair

Another possible title for this post: what Smalls has been up to in a women's studies class. After being introduced to the complexities and connotations of black women's hairstyles by Liz via Shakesville, I chose this topic for a report this freckly, blue-eyed white woman stumbled through in front of a mostly multi-racial class, including two African women. The report went over well and the African women spoke up about the hair pressures in their respective countries. One said that it was normal for girls' heads to be shaved all through school, but the girls who were sent abroad for school always had braids or wigs because they were picked on in other countries for looking too boyish.

I was inspired by this Time article, in which Jenee Desmond-Harris discusses the impact of first lady Michelle Obama’s image. When the first lady attended a festival with her hair pinned up last July, a media frenzy erupted because people who saw photographs of Obama were unclear whether or not she had cut her hair short. Obama’s muscular arms, sleeveless dresses, bare legs and shorts have all made headlines since she became a public figure.

But one style point that stands out, especially to black women, is Obama’s choice to straighten her hair, since black women’s hair is naturally curled very tightly. Journalists have wondered if Obama straightens her hair with heat alone, or with the help of chemicals, and bloggers have discussed why Obama would hesitate to wear her hair in a natural style. But the hesitation becomes clear when Desmond-Harris considers the implied connections between hair and placement in the social hierarchy, that the natural ways for black women to wear their hair have subversive and even sexual connotations, as evidenced in Don Imus’ verbal attack on the Rutgers women’s basketball team and the controversial New Yorker magazine cover featuring Obama with an Afro. Desmond-Harris recognizes that Obama and the president crushed a huge political barrier, being the first black family in the White House, but that social barriers for black women remain. Being a public figure, Obama brings black women’s social issues to center stage. As a black woman, Desmond-Harris sees a woman in the White House dealing with the same image standards as herself, and wonders if the choices black women make with their hair will ever be a non-issue.

Reading Desmond-Harris’ article as a white woman, I felt a lot of guilt at the idea of black women’s success being so closely tied to a beauty standard that limits their options. All American women are held to ridiculous beauty standards that demand we be thin, big-breasted and delicate among many other things, to be feminine and desirable. But within these beauty standards, I can see that the decisions black women make with something as trivial as a hairstyle can be a loaded choice, when the successful women on television and in politics conform mostly to the standard of making their hair more like white women’s hair. As a white woman of Western European descent, the images of women in fairy tales, movies and even advertisements all show women that look like me. When I wake up in the morning, I have to worry about women’s beauty standards when I consider my hair, makeup and dress, but the decision to wear my hair straight and down takes me a fraction of the time it would take a black woman, because my hair falls naturally straight. I never have to worry that wearing my hair how it naturally dries after showering will affect my reputation at work, or even make people question my beauty according to the typical standards. It’s clear from Desmond-Harris’ arguments and from other viewpoints, that there are unfair connotations for hairstyles that come more naturally to black women.

Michelle Obama is widely considered a beautiful, stylish and sophisticated woman, but Desmond-Harris’ article “Why Michelle’s Hair Matters” points out that Obama’s image is carefully constructed to fit a beauty and image standard that has social implications for black women everywhere. Black women’s hair is curly, and there are ways to style it without chemicals or excessive heat, but natural styles like Afros, dreadlocks and braids have negative social connotations. Although all women deal with beauty standards that dictate behavior and body image, the beauty standards favoring straight hair in the United States take considerable time and money for women with curly hair to conform to. These standards not only establish what is desirable, they dictate black women’s professional and social opportunities.

Because black women’s hair is naturally curly, if a famous black woman like Obama wears her hair straight, observers jump to a number of conclusions for how Obama’s hair got that way, all of them requiring significant effort. Desmond-Harris talks about the possibility that Obama had her hair chemically relaxed, blow dried and straightened or hot-combed. Whatever the method, one thing is clear: It took a lot of work. Desmond-Harris mentions that Tyra Banks, another black celebrity renowned for her style and beauty, was relinquished the hair extensions she’s worn for her entire public life on the season premiere of The Tyra Show. The extensions, wigs, chemicals, straightening irons and hot combs are implied every time the public sees a black woman with straight hair, and going without these significant efforts can be controversial.

Black women don’t go through the straightening process for no reason—the natural ways to style black hair are often considered unprofessional, subversive or dangerous. Desmond-Harris cites commenters on the Philadelphia Inquirer web site sympathizing with Obama’s choice to wear her hair straight. One commenter admits that she wears her hair straight for the first few months of a job, and one wrote, “Girl, ain’t no braids, twists, Afros, etc. getting into the White House just yet.” But why would it be outrageous for Obama to wear one of these hairstyles?
Desmond-Harris points out that the controversial New Yorker cartoon image satirizing Obama as a militant pictured her donning an Afro, not by coincidence. By relinquishing a natural hair style like the Afro, Obama is conforming to a beauty standard that favors white women, a standard that has been established in the United States since Colonial times by the people that have been in power since then—white men. For Obama to wear her hair naturally would likely make white men, or white women, uncomfortable, helped along by the associations people make between Afros and black pride, cornrows and gang culture, or dreadlocks and Rastafarians. The link these hairstyles have to black pride or even Afro-centrism clearly makes people nervous, as if the hairstyles could lead to a social hierarchy shift. The fact that the styles associated with black pride are ones that complement black women’s naturally curly hair is probably no coincidence—any style besides laboriously straightening hair to look more “white” is easier for black men and women to wear and maintain. On the other hand, hairstyles that Caucasians are comfortable with, the ones that are never considered out of uniform in police departments or the military, are the ones that come naturally to white people. As the previously mentioned commenter pointed out, the White House isn’t ready for a black woman whose hair isn’t styled like a white woman’s—a black woman can be the first lady if she’s not too black. If Obama didn’t spend the time and effort to straighten her hair, she would most likely not be considered such a stylish, beautiful and sophisticated woman.

Because Obama is a smart, successful black woman whose closest relationship is that with the leader of the free world, her actions and decisions reverberate in the cultures she represents. Desmond-Harris writes that the web is afire with blogs dedicated to dissecting Obama’s style and hair choices, analyzing why and when Obama gave up her “schoolgirl’s curls” as seen in her 1985 Princeton graduation photo. Black women and girls who look up to Obama seem to be wondering why and when Obama made the decision to start straightening her hair, and whether they should do the same to send a message of maturity and sophistication. But in addition to the influence she will have for black women, Obama also has the power to normalize black women’s hair for everyone else. Desmond-Harris mentions the obnoxious questions she encounters when discussing the care of braids or dreadlocks with people who aren’t black. She mentions people’s confusion of how to wash one’s hair when wearing those styles, and the assumptions people make that the styles are “dirty” because they aren’t conducive to the washing habits that are easiest for white hair. These questions have implications of their own, that these styles aren’t civilized, that they’re savage. But these notions could be swayed if black hair in its natural state was considered normal. In college, a white professor gasped and gaped at a classmate and friend of mine when she wore her hair curly once—hair that was usually straightened and shoulder length was all of a sudden very short and curly. My classmate eventually stopped the professor’s exclamations by saying, “this is how black people’s hair usually is.” I would guess that this ignorance about black women’s hair is pretty widespread, because people might not realize that straight hair isn’t natural for black women.

All women deal with beauty standards that dictate how to behave and look, but the current hair standards in the United States favor white women. While women deal with constant messaging about weight loss, health, attire and sexuality, most of the non-black population doesn’t have to worry about expensively taming their hair to go on a job interview. These are considerations that other women simply don’t have to think about, if they have socially-acceptably curly hair. The level of curliness that seems acceptable is the kind we see every day in women held up as beautiful: long, flowing hair with loose curls, or curls that have seem to be controlled on some level. The fad curls that have come and gone mostly represent straight hair intentionally made a little curly, the work of perms, irons or curlers. Even curly-haired Jewish women in my life are adamant about straightening their hair, almost as a defensive move to not look as identifiably Jewish, since their curls are more on the uncontrollable side of the spectrum. Because their hair texture and color was one way Jewish men and women were identified during the Holocaust, it’s an understandable reaction. Even if they’re not worried about death, Jewish women certainly could be defending themselves against anti-Semitism in many forms in the present day, in the same way that black women are defending themselves against the reputation of being dangerous for proudly wearing dreadlocks or an Afro.

Black women know well what it takes to make their hair straight, although people born with straight or socially-acceptably curly hair might not understand the expense and time it takes black women to attain this beauty standard. Being the first black first lady means that Obama will always be a trailblazer, and hopefully her example will inspire black women everywhere that they can accomplish as much as she has scholastically and surely, in the next four years, politically. With natural-hair awareness on the rise on the web from feminists and other proud black women, hopefully braids, twists, Afros and dreadlocks aren’t too far from the White House. I recognize that I can’t fully appreciate the pressure black women face regarding their hairstyles, but I will try to understand and be an ally in whatever way I can be.

A Ladybrain Abeyance

Hello internet-land. Please forgive our months-long blog neglect. My partner in crime and I have been go-go-go since the beginning of October, with grad school preparations, marathons and that pesky business of making a living.

I'm going to post some of my current women's studies musings, and probably the intro to what I hope will be my dissertation proposal: an analysis of women's role in three John Hughes films, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Those are also three of my favorite movies of all time, so it's a tough topic. So far, the analysis hasn't been pretty.

So stay tuned for some more analysis from Liz and Smalls, especially after the first of the year. Until then, take the time to catch up on 30 Rock (I'm on season three) via Netflix streaming. Make sure to keep tabs on Sarah Haskins' Target Women segments, too. Support the few strong women in Hollywood at the box office and on the interwebz.

Ladybrain Movie Review: Whip It

Roller derby, a coach in Drew Barrymore’s new movie Whip It reminds us, is more than fishnets and tough stage names. But it’s undeniable that the sport, in which roller-skating women—yes, often in fishnets, short skirts and heavy eyeliner—race around a track, body-checking and tripping opponents along the way, has a certain allure. To paraphrase the same coach character, it’s a contact sport, and the players certainly “make contact.”

Derby enthusiasts (Liz and I among them) and people who like good movies about women have been eagerly awaiting the release of this derby-themed movie since the trailer hit the web months ago, and they won’t be disappointed.

Set in and around Austin, Texas, Whip It follows Bliss Cavendar (Ellen Page, of Juno fame), a meek high-school senior with misfit tendencies, who gets in touch with her ballsy self when she ditches the beauty pageant circuit in favor of Austin’s derby scene. Coming in to her own as ace-in-the-hole Babe Ruthless for her team, the Hurl Scouts, Bliss keeps her beloved derby life a secret from her parents, especially her former beauty-queen mom. Along the way, Cavendar falls for a tight-pantsed indie dude, makes an enemy of a competing derby star (Juliette Lewis as Iron Maven) and befriends her crazy teammates, like “your favorite Whole Foods clerk” Smashley Simpson (Barrymore) and Maggie Mahem (Kristen Wiig).

Bliss has to figure out whether embracing her new life will mean leaving behind her old one, including her family and her best friend and partner-in-crime Pash (Alia Shawkat), who is as determined as Bliss to leave small-town Texas behind.

Along the way, Bliss butts heads with several people, mostly women, but the film handles these opponents in a much more sympathetic way than most do. In fact, apart from a brief segue into “stalking is a compliment” territory, no hugely offensive sexist themes stuck out in this movie, a breath of fresh air for a wide release.

As an edgy, angsty type, Bliss clashes with the beauty pageant scene, including a malicious fellow contestant who harasses Bliss at work and school. This nemesis is the only female character whose behavior the film doesn’t bother to excuse—she’s just the kind of bitchy, vapid girl who would tape up naked Barbies in someone’s locker to hurl the ultimate insult, that Bliss and Pash are gay. But another beauty pageant contestant, although she and Bliss will never be great friends, still garners sympathy as an insecure girl in the judgemental pageant world. She and Bliss still treat each other kindly, and the girl plays an interesting part in helping Bliss and her mother reach common ground.

Bliss’ mother, played brilliantly by Marica Gay Harden, also represents the pageant world, which disgusts Bliss as a 1950s-style idea of womanhood. The conflict and resolution between mother and daughter, both tough women, is realistic and touching. Even when the issue of sex comes up in a conversation between them, it’s treated with remarkable sensitivity—no slut shaming or exploitation in sight, just one woman helping another understand herself.

In her derby world, Bliss inspires jealousy in derby star and opponent Iron Maven (Lewis—is she ever not amazing?) who feels threatened by the rookie savant. But even this competitive relationship is more than one tough, aging woman’s jealousy of her young opponent. Maven’s admission to Bliss about how long it took her to find something she was really good at, and how hard she had to work to get there, is such a genuine, thoughtful portrayal of a character who is otherwise ruthless. Maven knows Bliss has years and years of derby ahead of her. It doesn’t seem fair that it came so easily to someone so young. But when Maven has a chance to force Bliss out of the league, Maven prompts Bliss to make peace with her two identities. Maven even admits that she doesn’t want to force Bliss out on a technicality; she wants to beat Bliss on the track.

I won’t tell you what happens in the derby tournament, or the details of the naïve-first-love story, except to voice my approval at the fact that Bliss doesn’t take shit from anyone, and the fact that sex is neither omitted nor exploited in this movie. I also want to commend Ellen Page for managing to take off tights in a swimming pool.

For a great time at the movies, go see Whip It when it comes out tomorrow. For a great time at derby, go see your local roller girls.

In Other Sad Rape News: Mackenzie Phillips

[Trigger warning.]

Last week, I heard some news that I'd describe as soul-crushing, to the extent that it just kind of makes me sad to be alive in a world where things like this happen.

Mackenzie Phillips--a child star with an infamously drug-addled adolescence--reveals in a new book that she was raped by her father, musician John Phillips of The Mamas and the Papas, and that the relationship became what she calls consensual later, ending when Mackenzie Phillips terminated a pregnancy and determined that she "would never let him touch her again."

The American media rushed to sensationalize this horror show, recalling the same issues of using the word "sex" to describe what was clearly, in at least one instance identified by Mackenzie Phillips herself as rape (see Liz's post from yesterday for a great example from the Roman Polanski coverage). For more on the shoddy coverage, see this Shakesville thread [trigger warning]. In addition to this typically ridiculous coverage, I've seen some familiar victim-blaming: She consented later, she's a junkie, she just wants attention, she shouldn't have brought it up.

All of this is depressing as hell, and really hard to talk about. I briefly tried to describe my reactions to Liz last week, and utterly failed. I've been following the story closely, though, and always leave humbled and somber. There is a lot left to be answered here, like whether consent is relevant in a case that Mackenzie calls a "betrayal" and an abuse of power, whether she could have ever really consented in a situation this rife with abuse and confusion. I'm grateful that Sady of Tiger Beatdown attempted to make heads or tails of this case with a recent post. Reading her discussion provides solidarity for those wading in the confusion and tragedy of this situation.

I know Mackenzie Phillips from two roles: the teenage tag-along in American Grafitti and the rockstar mom in So Weird. Her fucked up childhood, during which her Dad gave her hard drugs from the time she was a pre-teen, has been well documented. I remember when I watched The Disney Channel's So Weird as a kid, my mom told me the story of Mackenzie Phillips' childhood, and how she hoped Phillips' role on the show meant that she was off drugs for good. Until I heard Phillips' new claims, I was sad enough for her drug-doomed life.

Well, here's hoping future media coverage is more fair about rape, and that Phillips' story brings the dark problems of incest and rape to light, and eventually to prevention. It's a tall order.