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From a recent post in Feministas:
I have pondered for a while what to write here in the way of an introduction. Here's my story:
I was the greatest hope (like all the other women born in this age) of my mother's generation. Born in the sixties, I was raised to believe that I could do anything without regard to gender. Like all of us born then, I discovered that others didn't see it that way...men and women alike. I was heartbroken when I was forced off an all boys soccer team (the only kind back then...girls leagues came much later) because "someone might hit my breasts." I learned quickly that smart girls were not popular in school. I did what any self-respecting teenager of the time would do...I sold out. I chased boys; I giggled; I flirted; I wore too much makeup; I dreamed of being the Barbie in Barbie's Dream Wedding. I even met Gloria Steinham briefly when I was fifteen. She impressed me, but couldn't compete with my crush on the guy who sat behind me in algebra. I became everything that my mother had hoped I wouldn't.
In college, I became an art house feminist. I read all the books. I quit wearing make-up. I dressed in black. I kissed and groped girls instead of boys. I sat with my self-anointed nouveau Bohemian friends, railing against male-dominated culture between sips of espresso and drags from our overpriced imported cigarettes. I knew all the right words. I could argue theory with the best and brightest. But it was all show. I didn't start to get it until I had my own kids years later. Until my father quit speaking to me because I wasn't married. Until I had to explain twelve-thousand times that I wasn't divorced--I'd just never been married. Until I started to think about what kind of men I wanted to raise...how I wanted them to see the women they knew...and women in general. I look now at the girls who start painting their faces and their hair when they're in elementary school, who start fucking when they're barely old enough to have periods. I live in an age when women are objectified (and, quite frankly, objectify themselves) more than my mother's generation could have ever endured or imagined. I still read the books. I still listen to my mother. I still think Gloria Steinham is cool beyond cool. And I still hold out hope that one day we can all get our shit together and start this revolution from the inside out.
I have pondered for a while what to write here in the way of an introduction. Here's my story:
I was the greatest hope (like all the other women born in this age) of my mother's generation. Born in the sixties, I was raised to believe that I could do anything without regard to gender. Like all of us born then, I discovered that others didn't see it that way...men and women alike. I was heartbroken when I was forced off an all boys soccer team (the only kind back then...girls leagues came much later) because "someone might hit my breasts." I learned quickly that smart girls were not popular in school. I did what any self-respecting teenager of the time would do...I sold out. I chased boys; I giggled; I flirted; I wore too much makeup; I dreamed of being the Barbie in Barbie's Dream Wedding. I even met Gloria Steinham briefly when I was fifteen. She impressed me, but couldn't compete with my crush on the guy who sat behind me in algebra. I became everything that my mother had hoped I wouldn't.
In college, I became an art house feminist. I read all the books. I quit wearing make-up. I dressed in black. I kissed and groped girls instead of boys. I sat with my self-anointed nouveau Bohemian friends, railing against male-dominated culture between sips of espresso and drags from our overpriced imported cigarettes. I knew all the right words. I could argue theory with the best and brightest. But it was all show. I didn't start to get it until I had my own kids years later. Until my father quit speaking to me because I wasn't married. Until I had to explain twelve-thousand times that I wasn't divorced--I'd just never been married. Until I started to think about what kind of men I wanted to raise...how I wanted them to see the women they knew...and women in general. I look now at the girls who start painting their faces and their hair when they're in elementary school, who start fucking when they're barely old enough to have periods. I live in an age when women are objectified (and, quite frankly, objectify themselves) more than my mother's generation could have ever endured or imagined. I still read the books. I still listen to my mother. I still think Gloria Steinham is cool beyond cool. And I still hold out hope that one day we can all get our shit together and start this revolution from the inside out.
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i feel like the generation before us will always be afraid for the next-- they seem so careless, so unsocialized and so primed for big fuckups, and i know i want to tell them to not do all the stupid stuff i did, but i think it's inevitable for people to stumble in the same places. i just worry about the ones who never seem to get it together.
Maybe we need to get it together at an earlier age? Socializing young women so that they don't automatically look for the approval in the eyes of (sometimes predatory) strangers seems like a start. but what a huge thing it is to buck against the grain like that, esp when we all, men and women alike, crave being accepted and liked.
anyway, thanks for letting me ramble, Catelin!
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Concerning the last paragraph...
Re: Concerning the last paragraph...
Re: Concerning the last paragraph...
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i too hope that another revolution hits, one that holds and causes some change.
oh what i wouldn't do for all the cosmopolitan rags to loose the right to airbrush their photography for even just one issue...
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Re:
*-by southern Maine private high school students.
Amen, Sistah!!
Re: Amen, Sistah!!
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Right On!
Re: Right On!
(Anonymous) 2001-06-24 08:55 am (UTC)(link)Re: Right On!
Depressed
Re: Depressed
Some ill formed thoughts on Feminism
So many of my experiences with feminism, are similar to yours. I really believed that equal opportunity existed, I swore I would never get married (a useless convention), and I flirted with feminist/lesbianism/art crowd in college. I was a cheerleading drop out in high school. In fact, my entire squad dropped out, because in 1978, suddenly it wasn't "cool" to be a female cheerleader. It was just so evidently a stupid way to waste your time.
Imagine my shock in the 1980's/90's when Paula Abdul was able to use being an LA cheerleader to catapult her into fame. I had to rethink some of my attitudes, and realize that there might be a payoff for women using their sexuality, their cheerleaderness, if you will, to get ahead in life. Women and men are not the same, there are some things we will never do as well, so how do we stake out a claim for our own turf, without resorting to objectifying our bodies? I haven't found an answer to that one. But I do know, that getting on 40, objectifying my body is no longer a realistic alternative. And I'm approaching the age where women are said to simply "disappear".
I remain committed to calling myself a feminist. I get so angry when 20-something women who are taking advantage of career opportunities their mothers would never have dreamed of refuse to call themselves feminists. I worry about the new generation of stay-at-home moms who not only won't reap the benefits of work experience, a pension and 401K plans, but won't have the same access to alimony and child support as the 1950's generation did. I am sensitive to the fact that the female sex is different, and it is very difficult to codify these differences in law. For example, the idea that men can claim alimony enrages me, and the idea that a man should be considered equal to a woman in a custody fight (assuming she is a fit parent) seriously disturbs me.
I do think that the personal relationships between men and women have improved with women's access into the working world. I think in general we have gained our spouse's respect, and hopefully our coworkers, as well as a closer communion based on shared experiences of the working world. I feel that possibly the rampant woman hating of the 1960's commedies (commedy?)may be over. But I know we haven't found all the answers.
I'd be honored if you'd pop by my journal sometimes to say Hi. You sound like a woman I'd love to know better.
Re: Some ill formed thoughts on Feminism