Saturday, March 21, 2009

My Life Would Suck...

I heard Kelly Clarkson’s newest song.  I vented my frustrations to Kate.  I heard it a few more times.  Katie shared with me that Alice had a similar response.  I saw Kelly Clarkson perform the song on Saturday Night Live belting out about how  “Either way, I found out I am nothing without you.”  No one (except Alice) is appalled.

I sat at dinner with my sister, brother, and sister-in-law and thought that I had a captive audience when I shared these sentiments.  I really didn’t go too big.  I think I said something to the effect of how shitty it was for Kelly Clarkson to release a song teaching young women that their lives suck without men.  Apparently their read was that the song is about love and the value in finding loving relationships..... hm... not my read.

Pretty regularly I find myself throwing my hands in air with frustration over the lack of imagery that supports a strong and independent female identity.   I am offended by the TV, radio, my co-workers, and my peers so I am not sure why this one Kelly Clarkson song has offended me so strongly.   One reason may be that I saw Kelly Clarkson as a beacon amid pop music crap—creating music around topics like not accepting bullshit from men and celebrating your own identity without a man attached.  I think I am mostly offended because I identified with Kelly Clarkson.  As silly as it sounds (and is) I felt that she sang about shit I could relate to and I felt good about playing for my sister's girls.  

There are so few femininities that are celebrated or promoted to young women.  All of these female identities are attached to having a male partner.  Virtuous and well-behaved--mom/wife.  Sexy and promiscuous--girlfriend.  Every song on the radio is about heteronormative relationships, every show, every movie, every image used in dittos created by Houghton Mifflin and public education curriculum.  Fine, maybe I am exaggerating but now that Kelly Clarkson has sold out, I've given up all hope.  Where do you find imagery supporting strong female identities that aren't attached to a man?  Not in the mainstream media that most young women consume, that is for sure....

I am the problem, right—I consume it.  I consume all of the mainstream crap that is just more of the same.  I suppose the first step is to make a personal choice against consuming shit that supports patriarchy.

With all of the advances women have made professionally, politically, personally, there is still so little space for women to find fulfillment without men. "You got a piece of me and honestly, my life would suck without you"  From the youngest age I remember believing this about my own life and having it affirmed just about everywhere.  At 24 years old, I am barely beginning to figure out self fulfillment and happiness that isn't attached to a man. I suppose this is why I am so offended.  

Anyone else outraged?  Thoughts? ? ? ? ? ?

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

not surprised

When President Obama was elected last November I was literally moved to tears. Stirred by an emotional combination of relief and triumph, I felt a critical moment in history wash over me, invigorated by a sense of hope and possibility. For a time, I set aside my bitterness about the failure of the Hillary campaign to embrace change and celebrate progress in a country whose capacity for social and political revolution I had more or less given up on.

Throughout the 2008 primary season I was repeatedly disturbed by the gendered politics that were simultaneously blatant and invisible in the media, pop culture and social space. When Obama finally defeated Clinton, I was heartbroken- an opportunity for the lives of women everywhere to be changed permanently, had escaped us-chalk another one up for patriarchy.


Months later, I have more or less gotten on board the Obama bandwagon. He's an inspiring human, a remarkable orator and an ambitious politician. His life and leadership has changed our country for the better, already, and I can only imagine what his presidency will do to reshape the meaning of the African-American experience. I was reminded of just how powerful the popularity and prominence of President Obama is in shaping our collective consciousness when I came across this article in the New York Times today:




A major publication (arguably the nation's most successful and resilient newspaper in the current crisis of disappearing print media) critiquing the racial composition of mainstream television? That's not something you read everyday. And while I applaud the effort to deconstruct the narrow, biased imagery we've come to regard as normal in our culture, there is one, glaring problem: not a single word of it is about women. What about the disparities between the roles men and women both act out and represent on television? What about (almost) every network nightly newscast and every late night television show featuring a male host? Even the iconic Oprah Winfrey-a goddess of American television- occupies the late-afternoon advertising slot still dominated by tampons and facial creams. Sure, D.L. Hughley is losing his spot on CNN primetime, but could we even fathom a woman of color being offered a shot at one?





While I think it's important to assess the racial inequities of real life that are reflected in the imagery of our media, we can't discount the significance of how gender, class and sexuality intersect with race to produce our understanding of identity. The truth is, African-American males are overrepresented on television and in movies compared to their numbers in the population (while Asian and Latina women remain the least represented). And yes, there are problems of essentialism and internalized/institutional racism in almost all media characterizations of people on the margins (ethnic groups, alternative sexualities/genders, etc.). The point here is that I fear as the Obama presidency proceeds, we will hear more and more of the African-American male experience and less and less about the gender inequities that so fundamentally direct our everyday lives. As race (which it certainly needs to) comes more to the forefront of our cultural awareness, I fear that gender will slip to the background and we will continue to exist, dialogue, behave, as if men and women are the same: on television and elsewhere.










I'm still waiting for most of the population to admit to the deeply rooted, institutional sexism that helped President Obama win the democratic nomination in the first place; and I hope that as we examine racism as it still persists in this country, we won't ignore the fact that 44 President's later, we still can't elect a woman to office, put one on a late night talk show, or hear one moderate a political talk show (one her own) on CNN.

Disturbia

That's it. I've had it. I can't resist any longer.

I tried to keep quiet about Rhianna and Chris Brown. I didn't want to become another self-righteous voyeur casting a shadow of judgement on a media-generated image of two young people's real life. Weeks after we all first hear about the most publicized episode of dating violence in years, I can't shake the swelling emotions and reactions that seem to change, deepen and become increasingly complicated the more I hear, see and read about the story.
First things first: If I read one more thing about "battered woman syndrome" written by another inane editorial columnist, I'm really going to lose it. It's not a disease, it's not some mysterious affliction or a set of chronic, incurable symptoms. It's violence. Violence, perpetrated by one person against another. One person using violence to gain power and control over the spirit, sanity and security of another. Battered woman syndrome is something our culture came up with to excuse the vicious, repetitious cycle of abuse that shapes domestic violence relationships.

As far as the mass media is concerned, I'm not surprised. It is neither baffling nor unusual that I take issue with much of the information, opinions and images that have circulated throughout this ordeal. Much like the distortions and misrepresentations that shaped the O.J. Simpson trial, over a decade later, we haven't quite shed the shackles of patriarchy that prevent us from talking openly, critically and productively about domestic abuse.
I am suprised by everything else. Mostly, I continue to appalled and defeated by the teenagers in my life who have shared their own opinions and ideas about Rhianna and Chris Brown.

The day the news broke I held a (scheduled) teen relationships support group on the high school campus where I work. The group is made up of students of all grade levels, and on this particular day I had 8 girls and one boy show up to talk about all things my space, text messsages and teenage romance.
I brought up the issue immediately, hoping it would spark a timely discussion about dating violence and perhaps shed some light on the warning signs and implications of abuse in their age group.... Man, was I wrong.

"she probably deserved it"

The most immediate and pervasive response from the kids in the room was that Chris Brown wouldn't have hit Rhianna if she didn't: provoke, aggravate, instigate him in the first place. A variety of b-words and an assortment of derogitory terms our language has cleverly set aside to insult females were used to justify their analysis of the case.

wow. I thought. I have failed. We all have, in fact. Because any reaction other than unconditional compassion for Rhianna, and immediate criticism of a culture that has produced dating violence between two people who are barely adults, represents the widespread, systemic failure of all of us.

Hours after group was over, I had a moment of clarity during which a tiny glimmer of hope shown through the bleakness of the day's events. Maybe it was just my kids. Maybe I caught a bunch of overly-dramatic, middle-class teenagers on a particulalry angry or adversarial occassion. Maybe they were seeking attention or trying to instigate controversy (it wouldn't be the first time) and given more time to think about it would come to a more progressive conclusion. As it turns out... not so much.

I came across the following article in the New York Times and since then, I have only felt worse.

http://http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/19/fashion/19brown.html?_r=1

The article (for me) sheds light on complex layers of social and cultural production and representation: The sensationalized celebrity-idol worship that has transformed "famous" people into gods and goddesses of pop culture; the last five years (all of history) of gendered imagery that has depicted women as inherently merciless, manipulative, duplicitous and otherwise evil in a host of different ways; and perhaps most importantly, the distortion of relationship normalcy that has left room for abuse to creep in from the margins and dominate the mainstream without being recognized or challenged.

Young women who excuse Chris Brown's behavior are likely to justify/rationalize these same patterns in their own, real life. And while continuing to support Brown's music career is probably not going to endanger these impressionable young females, putting up with abuse from their romantic partners, is. If young women (any women) can blame Rhianna for Brown's abuse, they can certainly blame themselves for abuse from their partners.

Here's what's really scary:

When you learn about domestic violence there are certain patterns of progression that transcend race, class, gender and sexuality. Among the most common is the way that abusers manipulate and demean their partners to such an extent that ultimatey their partner ends up believing they are: worthless, stupid, undesirable, etc. and consequently feels that 1) the abuse is justified 2) no one else will ever love them (so they better stick it out). If we are starting from a place of this type of victim (or self)-blaming, what hope is their that we will be able to end the cycle of abuse?

Don't get me wrong, I think it's tragic. The last thing I ever want to see is another public disgrace of a young, african-american male. I don't demonize or even blame Chris Brown. He, like the rest of us is a product of his particular social location. He is one, tiny aspect of a broader phenomenon that sends complicated messages into the world about women, relationships, power dynamics and abuse. On the one hand, we pretend to be intolerant of abuse, but continue to hyper-sexualize, de-humanize and objectify women (like Rhianna) in the media and elsewhere. We pretend to oppose violence but remain apathetic to it's pervasive existence locally, nationally and globally. We excuse all sorts of men for all sorts of inconceivable behavior (R. Kelly, Rob Lowe, Alec Baldwin, Christian Bale, and the list goes on). According to my mom (via Oprah), Brown grew up in an abusive household, and it remains a statistical truth that he is more pre-disposed to perpetrating violence. Because we fail to recognize what a widespread and dangerous epidemic domestic violence is, we fail to provide the type of education, intervention and resources that might help someone like Chris Brown avoid repeating the abusive behaviors he's been exposed to.

Underlying all of this, is the story no one is talking about-the fact that while the Rhianna and Chris Brown's story is being told and re-told everywhere these days, millions of other women continue to be silent. As long as we continue to act like this type of dating violence is some sort of unpredictable anamoly, we are leaving the space open for all sorts of teenagers to begin and perpetuate patterns of abuse. Something like 1 in 4 teenagers has experienced some form of abuse in a dating relationship. ONE IN FOUR. Not surprising, right? Teenage girls are so hard to deal with, they probably brought it on themselves...........................

Other things to check out:

Same shit, different blog

http://www.feministing.com/cgi-bin/movabletype/mt-search.fcgi?IncludeBlogs=4&search=rhianna+and+chris+brown&limit=20


This is mostly appalling but confirms that text messaging is evil



Tyra and Oprah


What's most interesting about the above is how little is mentioned of Nicole Brown Simpson's sister, who is an activist against domestic violence (not a supermodel). Funny who we're willing to listen to.