One recurring tension when fighting for justice is dealing with things as they are versus with as you want them to be. Do you meet people where tthey are or instist they be better? In other words, do you rabble the rousing or do you slowly build coalition? Back in the day, it was ACT UP vs. assimilation. Martin Luther King versus Malcolm X.
One thing that annoys me is the clap back of ‘you’re showing your privilege’ without any follow up. I never say ‘check your privilege’ because it’s meaningless in and of itself. And, what are you supopsed to do once you chcck it? Ok. I checked it. It’s there. Now what? I’m being glib. I don’t think it’s bad to think about the ways in which you have privilege, but then, you should do something with that privilege.
At Ask A Manager, there was a question about…I don’t remember what it was. I’m going to say wearing a bra. It was somethnig of that sort. I said I would absolutely quit over being forced to wear a bra. Other people said the same. We were in the mionrity, but we were also people who didn’t wear bras in the first place.
Someone bleated about privilege and how not everyone could quit their jobs like that. I said that’s the reason why people with privilege should take a stand when they can, otherwise, what’s the point of checking said privilege? I wasn’t trying to be a dick, but I get tired of ‘checking your privilege’ being the end of a conversation when it should just be the start. Yes, not everyone can quit their job without having another one in place, so why not rjeoice for the people who can?
It was interesting to see so many women push hard for wearing a bra. I don’t care, obviously, but it’s a myth that it’s better for your boobs. Or that not wearing a bra is bad for them. It’s not. In fact, scientifically, there has been some proof that not-bra wearoers have perkier boobs than those who wear bras.
It’s amazing to me–annd sad. AAM is quite progressive and has one of the best commenariat in the mainstream media. And yet, there are still so many who still hold down the mainstream ideas of beauty. I’m old. I am probably considered a 2nd wave femininst, and I’ve seen fashion and makeup stick the fuck around. I have no problem with being into them. I have a problem with being told that you have to be into them to be considered a woman. Even to this day, there are too many women who feel bad about the way they look.
For me, I tried. I had no clue about fashion when I was a teenager as the child of an immigrant. I didn’t watch much TV and we never went to the movies. I did not speak the language of America, and I was completely lost. My mom made my clothes until I was a teenager, basically, and it was mostly dresses. Which I hated. I could not climb a tree in a dress. I was never much a tomboy when I was a kid, and I have always found myself happier on the ‘boy’ side of the equation.
After my medical crisis, I realized that I am all out of fucks to give. I mean, I have never done girly things. Ever. But I always felt some kind of way about it. I was thinking about gender before I ended up in the hospital beause I never felt comfortable with the label of woman. Mostly because I kept getting told that I wasn’t one.
Now, I just. don’t. care. Am I a woman? Who knows? Do I care? Not really. I’m going with agender for now, but if people want to call me she/her, eh. Fine. Whatever. I don’t love it, but Idon’t hate it enough to care. K and I said that if we were in our twenties now, we would both probably be nonbinary. Or agender. Or genderqueer. Anything but women.
I’ve gotten lost time and time again when thinking about gender. Here’s what gets me stuck. Gender is what you make of it. Fine. Gender is what you feel. Also fine. Gender is a social construct. I’m down with that as well. But. Here’s where I get tripped up. People who are…I don’t know how to put this. Who feel that their gender is integral to their identity–I don’t get that. Like, even when I said that I was a woman, I felt it was a de facto label rather than something I felt to my bones. I have shared often that when I was a kid, I used to pray to a god I didn’t believe in to make me a boy. Not beacuse I felt like a boy, but because I felt so restricted as a girl.
“Don’t climb trees.” “Don’t laugh so loud.” “Don’t sit with your legs open.” “Don’t run around.” That was just beginning of the list that went on to say don’t be fat, don’t frown, don’t voice your opinions, and never, ever, EVER do anything better than a boy. EVER. His fragile eego just couldn’t take it and I would destroy him for life.
My parents are ridiculously sexist, and they made being a girl miserable. My mother pushed me to get married and have kids for fifteen years. She made me miserable, honestly. She was so wedded to the idea, she brought it up every time we talked. As a psychologist, she should have known that pushing taht hard on anything would not make the other person inclined to do what she wanted, but no. She only knew two modes–push and push harder.
The harder she pushed, the more I pushed back. I knew that I did not want to be a parent. I knew it as young as 20. The idea repulsed me, to be brutally honest, and I stood my ground. From a macro view, it was interesting to see how invested in it my mother was. She could not let it go until I was too old (in her eyes) to have children.
At 52, I have no desire to be any kind of prescribed woman. I do what I want, and that’s that.