On Gender Politics and Feminism

There has been something bothering me of late, swirling around in this insane, manic head of mine.

I feel I must apologize now for the highly political, unapologetically opinionated (as I apologize. heh.), and entirely too cerebral post for a blog that is to follow. I just can't help myself.

It bothers me that there seems to be a new brand of "feminism" which isn't feminism at all, but because it parades as such, it carries an air of authority it shouldn't have. It tells you that if you disagree, you're not femisnist, or something. Which, frankly, is bullshit.

It's specious rhetoric at its worst.

I'm talking about the rise of conservative feminism, which I see as matriarchal feminism. But I'll get to that.

Then I heard a sound bite the other day from, wait for it, Fox news. Surprise surprise. Which I couldn't find anywhere online so I know I'll butcher. But it was something like, "the last frontier of misogyny is the hatred of conservative women."

To which the fury of a thousand suns rose up from the depths of my soul and if I could breathe fire, I would have.

First of all, misogyny, I think, is really about the hatred of all women, despite or regardless of type. So let's just take that word off the table since I think it was completely misused.

Second...ly, no. Just no. You can't just say that the hatred of conservative women in such a blanket way as to take away any sort of logic at all and make any liberal man or woman (or, I guess, conservative men, or even moderates for that matter) look like hateful monsters.

"Communism is just a red herring." Uh huh. Exactlty my point.

I don't think anyone hates conservative women, individually or collectively. I have serious problems with their politics and their logic, however, and that is not the same thing.

I have a problem with calling yourself a feminist and not listening to the needs of women (and men) as a whole. When you ignore gender issues in politics or you fight against gender equality or gender freedom, you just cannot call yourself a feminist. You just cannot.

Which brings me back to matriarchal feminism. This is what the majority, this trading of patriarchy for matriarchy (and it's not just conservative or liberals or whatever. this is a big trend, I think, right now) is touting.

We wanted to overthrow the patriarchy and achieve freedom for the genders (and I won't even get into gender studies and the looseness of that word and the implications for the GLBTQ community and civil rights) but we just traded one for another just as oppressive.

Gloria Steinem said that feminism was supposed to free both sexes and what we're seeing is not freedom, but simply a shifting. 

Instead of strict gender roles prescribed by the male dominating class, we're seeing a female dominating class which prescribes just as strict gender roles for females (and males too I suppose). It's not okay for men to tell us what to do, but it is okay for women to tell women what to do? How does that make sense?

 That's not the feminism I subscribe to at any rate.

I don't expect to achieve some genderless utopia where we all enjoy life free of any gender roles or normatives, but I would like us to wake up and see that we're not really achieving anything this way.

Blogger Body Calendar: Survival

Today, I'm once again honored to be posting over at Blogger Body Calendar, talking about a time of survival.

Writing this story was incredibly cathartic. I only hope my sharing helps other too.

Thanks for reading!

This Week at Sprocket Ink

All sorts of snark and awe (get it? shock and awe? womp womp) this week over at Sprocket Ink. What can I say? Nothing but the best for you, my lovely minions.

Now go read, slaves!

Free Birth Control For All? Piece of Cake.
Official guidelines will force nearly all health insurance plans to fully cover the cost of birth control, but the mandate makes an exception for religious organizations...

As If Childbirth & The Bar Exam Aren’t Hard Enough Already
Pregnant woman goes into labor while taking the bar, finishes the test, then gives birth. See also: rock star.

Me love you long time!

Raw Photos People WINNER!

Wellllll, after mucho mucho deliberation, Sun and I have selected a winner. It wasn't easy. And we loved each photo for very, very different reasons. It was a tough decision, but somebody had to make it. It is a contest after all.

But before we announce the winner...the runner up!

By psychmamma
 
This photo is so unbelievably excellent. I honestly want it printed in a huge size and hung on my wall. I lurve it HARD. It's so unique and creative, well framed too. Plus I love how it fits the theme while breaking the mold. Well done, psychmamma!

 And now. Without further ado. Well, maybe just a little ado. We all love a smidge of ado, admit it.

I am so excited to announce.....


The winner is....

By nonspleen
This is so well captured. Not only is this such a hard shot to get (think of the patience!), but it's well composed, so sharp and clean. Plus look at the backrgound! So awesome.

Congratulations, nonspleen! You're a Raw Photos maven!

 

Email awesomecrazylady at gmail dot com to collect your badge.

~~~~~~~~~~

Don't put away your cameras just yet!

The next contest opens in September. 

Theme:Light

Get creative. 

Maybe it's light painting or fireworks or a carnival. Maybe it's the sunset or sunrise.
Maybe it's the way the sun lights up your living room or a certain light at dusk.
Maybe it's artificial light.
Use your imagination and keep it raw!

Good luck!

Raw Photos People Finalists

Holy hell was this round difficult!

Not only did you all bring such amazing shots, but this was a true testament to why we have two judges. Sun had her faves and I had mine and they didn't necessarily match up all the time. Art is SO subjective! Don't you love it?

So we deliberated and deliberated and settled on these four finalists. Remember that we mostly paid attention to the quality of the shot and how it fits the theme, but we also liked other things like creativity, etc.

In no particular order, here are the finalists:

By braceball5

I just love the perspective and how crisp the foreground is with the main subject slightly blurred.

By nonspleen

Oh man what a capture! So sharp. And look at the action in the background!

By jensch1288

So well done. Love the light, the vibrant colors, the perspective, and the rule of thirds.

By psychmamma

SO COOL! It's like modern art. So trippy. So creative.

Good luck to all the wonderful finalists! Winner announced tomorrow!

Which one is your fave?

The Pee Strikes Back

Have you ever had a bladder infection? I guess it's technically a urinary tract infection. But I don't really care what they're called. No matter the name, they're utter misery.

I'm prone to them, who knows why. Maybe it's due to all those years in leotards and tights (did you know you can get them from non-breathable undergarments?), though I haven't had one in a while because I'm pretty diligent about preventing them. You know, peeing after sex, drinking lots of cranberry juice, wearing breathable undies, etc.

And I usually feel them coming on and can stop one before it gets evil. But today? Oh today. It came on like a neon light in Vegas after the apocalypse. Or maybe it was announcing the apocalypse. Either way? Pain. So much pain.

I lasted a couple hours at work, actually, though I don't know how much work I actually accomplished in between jogs to the restroom, where I'd get about 2 seconds of reprieve, glorious reprieve, then go back to my desk in pain. Then I threw in the towel and went home.

You can take antibiotics for a UTI, but I try not to pump full of the antis since my childhood was spent on too many and my immune system is doing its best to become the tough bastard I know it can be. But sometimes it's unavoidable. My plan leaving work was to go home, pump full of cranberry juice, and hope I can flush it out without having to see a doctor.

Plan is as yet still in effect.

The drive home? Utter misery. I pee before I leave the office, but then 8 floors down in an elevator, trying to escape the chatty front desk (whom I normally delight chatting with, but desperate times yo), walk to the parking lot, trying to get my key from the parking attendant, and the ensuing traffic all the way is. completely. torturous.

Fuck speed limits. The pain is so bad and all I want to do is just pee. Peeing sounds like heaven. Even though I know only a dribble will come, right then, peeing is better than anything I could or would ever do ever in the history of doing things. Ever. EVER. As I'm driving, I'm concocting plans that if I get pulled over, I'll just pee on the cop. That'll teach him to pull over a woman with a bladder infection. If it's a woman, she'll simply understand.

And I have to stop at the store to get my juice (happy, happy juice). But of course the parking lot is a clusterfuck (as always) and then (of course) this 157 year old woman in a landyacht hoopdy cuts me off to get into the parking lot before me (as if I'd still her handycapable spot anyway.) (not that I didn't consider it.) (but I do have SOME scruples.) and then slows down to a pace so slow that I'm pretty sure snails could beat. At this point, I'm in so much pain that if I don't pee, I'll yank granny from her boat and knock out every one of her fake teeth and pee on her face.

I finally park and run into the grocery store, suddenly developing the superhuman ability to locate the restroom purely on instinct. I could have closed my eyes and been able to find it, dodging the carts and screaming miniature humans and walkers. I could have leapt over the entire bank of cash registers if that had been necessary. You've heard of mothers pulling cars of their children? If the toilet had been crushed by a car, I would have lifted it off and tossed it onto a child. That's how bad I had to pee.

I finally pee, shoving aside a germaphobe mother with two kids who is deliberating which stall is the least teaming with potential plagues, because I would pee in a whole in the ground in Calcutta at this point. Fuck germs. What are they gonna do anyway? I already HAVE the infection! HAH! So there.

Tiny reprieve. Grab my juice. Remember to pay for my juice. Sprint back to my car. As I'm leaving the parking lot, I wait for the slowest jeep on the planet to pass all the while shouting from my car, "GOOOOOOOOOO!" and he slows down and stares at me as he passes, all serial killer-like, never losing eye contact, like those busts in the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.

Normally, the serial killer uber creepy stare would freak me the fuck out, but I'm so manic at this point that I could peel his skin back from his creepy skull, pluck out his eyeballs, and pee on his face. Apparently peeing on people is my ultimate revenge today. However, he doesn't appear to be scared of me. His mistake.

The short drive from the store to my house is a blur. It's excruciatingly long yet I don't remember any of it. For all I know, I don't even have my car. I just floated home dreaming of pee and cranberry juice, clutching my burning abdomen for all its life.

Screwing my assigned spot and taking a visitor spot near the door, I sprint up the stairs to my apartment (in heels), making a mental note that if there is ever an Olympic event for heeled stair sprinting, I'd win the gold.

Rushing into the downstairs bathroom, I scare the shit out of my working-from-home roomie, pee the most glorious 5 seconds of my life, then prepare myself for a day of pain.

Which is where you'll most likely find me right now. Unless you're reading this several days from posting. If that's the case, and I'm still peeing like an old man with a prostate the size of Montana, just shoot me. 

Crazy Lady's tips for surviving a UTI:

• Get yourself a crapton of cranberry juice. Not juice cocktail. Not from concentrate. You need 100% cranberry juice. Just go straight to the organcic or health food section of your store. You'll die a little inside when you see the price, but when you think about how little juice you actually get in those juice cocktails, you'll see you're getting your money's worth. 
• Drink said cranberry juice. I like to cut the tart a little with club soda, though. But that means I just have to drink more. I like to keep the whole bottle of juice near me so I don't have to waste any time in between cup fills. 
•  Drinking tons of fluids is good. I know you don't want to pee anymore, but you want to have something to pee out right? Right. Plus, you're flushing that asshole infection out.
• If you can be home, awesome. You'll want to be close to the bathroom and have the freedom to bitch and moan without anyone around running in fear. Also: making happy moans while peeing makes it feel even that much better. 
• If you have to work, hope to hell your workspace is next to the bathroom. All I'm sayin'. 
• Another point for staying home is you won't want to fiddle with extraneous and silly things like locking doors and undoing zippers and/or buttons. Waste of time. 
• Write a snarky blog post full of hyperbole to make yourself feel better. Works every time.

Her Namesake

She had a reputation for her brilliance, so the first day she did her best to scare as many of us off as she could. That way, only the best would stay.

I knew instantly that I liked her, would eat up every word she taught, would learn more than I’d ever learned in my young life thus far.  She was the quintessential feminist hippie, in her broom skirts, long hair wavy hair, and large glasses. She used words like specious and tremulous and prescient in her everyday speech. She had a laugh that filled the room and infected all within. I was smitten.
Turned out, she had the same name as me, Andrea.

I’d landed in community college heaven.

I knew she’d challenge how I thought, what I knew, but she’d also challenge my skills, my words, my writing. Over the next two years, I took every class of hers I could, from literature to writing courses. She’d joke that soon I’d have a degree in her.

She began calling me her namesake.

In her rhetoric class, I sponged up every morsel of argumentative writing and debate technique. My own ideals were challenged fiercely as I learned to sway others to my side with a well constructed argument. I relished loud classroom debates despite to whom victory went. She pushed me to learn the rules of writing so that I could properly break them. On a piece about Indian gaming, she gave me the third perfect score she’d given out in her teaching career. I was over the moon.

I began calling myself a writer.

She convinced me to be a writing tutor.

I was devastated when her World Literature 1 class conflicted with a class I needed to graduate. Math, I think. But the next semester, my last at the college, I was the first to sign up for World Literature 2, which would be my introduction to some of the most powerful pieces of literature and began my love of writers like Dostoyevsky, Baudelaire, and Borges.

As a graduation gift, she gave me her personal copy of a world literature anthology which she used to teach her World Literature 1 class, the one which I had missed. It was full of her own notes and dog-eared pages, which I read voraciously and lovingly.

For two years, I was nurtured and stretched, pushed to the limits of my abilities and then pushed to grow even more. I was praised and rewarded and learned to appreciate my talents.

I was changed wholly and irreversibly.

This was a post for the RemembeRED prompt: Everyone remembers that first inspiration or mentor in their lives that made them want to be or do something in their lives, whether you actually followed through with it or not. Tell us about that inspiration/mentor. How did they affect or change your life!