I survived a "Ladies Tea"

"cakes baked by men" silent auction at First Assembly in Des Moines

One of the things I've struggled with during my life is saying no. I'm not always very good at it, although I'm getting much better as time goes on. Recently a friendly neighbor of mine invited me to a "Ladies Tea" at her church--where, she explained, she would personalize her table for her guests and "ladies" would enjoy a morning of conversation and tea. I said yes. She frequently invites to me to other church functions, such as bible study, and I've always declined. Anyway, I went. It was two hours long.

One of the things I learned a few days ago was that the church, First Assembly of God in Des Moines, is a fundamental and evangelical Christian church. Both fundamentalism and evangelism are repugnant to me, so I wasn't very happy when I realized what I was stepping into. But on the advice of my dear sociologist friend I decided to approach the event from an ethnographic perspective. So I went and took my place at the table.

One of the first things I noticed upon entering the very large room, which used to be the sanctuary, was the two giant (prominently displayed and lit for the occasion) photos of children on the wall. One was a little Asian girl, the other a black girl. This was a marked contrast to all the white women in the room.

The tea consisted of about 30 tables with eight women at each table and a raised dais with four women seated at a table. We had coffee, fruit cup, and quiche. The quiche had bacon in it (what would Jesus think!) which I managed to mostly pick out. The tea was hosted by the pastor's wife, who never said a word without identifying herself as the "pastor's wife." She introduced herself and a few other contributors to the event and everyone applauded politely. When she asked the cooks to come out of the kitchen, they reluctantly stuck their heads out to rousing and very enthusiastic applause. The cooks were men.

I won't bore you with the laborious details of each speaker, but the highlights should be sufficient to give an accurate picture of the tea. The speakers were all missionaries who talked about their experiences in various places such as Indonesia and South Africa, converting Muslims from the "dark side" (they actually used those words) to the light of life walking with Jesus Christ. The most reprehensible one has lived as a missionary in Indonesia many times, and kept referring to how many Muslims there were in that country, and how there are more Muslims in Indonesia than in all of the Middle East. Of course, she gushed, these lucky heathens (upon finally reading the bible) just had to become Christian because the bible told the truth and the Koran did not. I tried to keep my expression neutral during this talk.

The other thing I kept noticing about these women was how very steeped in paternalism and patriarchy their whole worldview is and how exceedingly oblivious they are to their own lack of agency. I can't even count how many times I heard one of them say "He takes care of me," and "When I didn't know what to do, God told me," and God called me to do this" along with "God told me to . . . "

This turning of self over to some benevolent and paternal God bothers me, of course, since there is literally no room for self or agency or THOUGHT. But what really troubles me about this "God told me to" is that there is no responsibility or community or thinking involved. God tells you to be a missionary, so you do it. God tells you to move to Iowa, you do it. What if God tells you to kill your self? Or your neighbor? I sense the comfort these women get from feeling and believing that their lives are working towards some greater good--I understand that. But their world view is so limited that they believe that Islam, one of the world's great religions, is a product of the devil. That kind of belief system makes me sad and very worried.

I was happy that no one tried to recruit me. But I was also a bit sad that people have such limited perspectives on the world that they truly believe that their way is the only way.

A gender crime is a gender crime.

Lately, and forever, I've noticed that when a man shoots up a workplace or shoots members of his family or by whatever method murders his wife/girlfriend/partner the MSM never ever calls it a crime against women. They just call it a "workplace shooting" or a homicide. Okay, so it might also be a workplace shooting and a homicide. But, it is also a very common crime against women. In fact I would say it is a very frequent crime that men perpetrate against women that doesn't get identified as a gender crime.

What I would most like is for this to stop, but since it won't what I would appreciate seeing is this: a headline that tells the truth and reads Yet another guy kills his wife.

You can bet your booty that when a woman kills her husband, a much less frequent occurence, it is identified as a wife killing her husband. But every fucking article I've read about this asshole in New Mexico keeps calling it a "workplace shooting." So he shot her and himself at her place of work. That doesn't make it a workplace shooting. I'm just tired of the patriarchy not seeing itself as a patriarchy. I guess hoping it will change is ridiculous.

Here's a few examples:

Fox News: 3 dead, 4 wounded in New Mexico Office Shooting

Yahoo News: 3 dead in workplace shooting

USA Today: Shooter kills two, then self at New Mexico Plant

Pontypool Changes Everything . . .

Last night I watched a truly interesting movie called Pontypool. My brother first brought this film to my attention months ago and it's been on my radar ever since. I finally bought a copy since it refused to appear on Netflix. Whatever. Netflix can be stubborn. Anyway, it was billed as one of the ten best zombie movies ever. Sure.

But really, people, I love this movie. It is one of the smartest and scariest movies I've seen in awhile, and that's saying something, for me. I couldn't stop watching it, stayed up late, and was truly creeped out enough to check behind the shower curtain before heading off to bed.

The plot is simple: DJ Mazzy Starr begins his early morning shift at a small radio station in Ontario when he and his staff begin to get reports of violence and strangeness in their small town. Havoc ensues, almost entirely off-screen. There is a virus that is infecting people and causing them to try to eat each other. That's all I can say. You must watch this movie, I tell you. It's amazing.

Just to get you excited, here's a little quote from the film:

Mrs. French's cat is missing. The signs are posted all over town. "Have you seen Honey?" We've all seen the posters, but nobody has seen Honey the cat. Nobody. Until last Thursday morning, when Miss Colette Piscine swerved her car to miss Honey the cat as she drove across a bridge. Well this bridge, now slightly damaged, is a bit of a local treasure and even has its own fancy name; Pont de Flaque. Now Collette, that sounds like Culotte. That's Panty in French. And Piscine means Pool. Panty pool. Flaque also means pool in French, so Colete Piscine, in French Panty Pool, drives over the Pont de Flaque, the Pont de Pool if you will, to avoid hitting Mrs. French's cat that has been missing in Pontypool. Pontypool. Pontypool. Panty pool. Pont de Flaque. What does it mean? Well, Norman Mailer, he had an interesting theory that he used to explain the strange coincidences in the aftermath of the JFK assasination. In the wake of huge events, after them and before them, physical details they spasm for a moment; they sort of unlock and when they come back into focus they suddenly coincide in a weird way. Street names and birthdates and middle names, all kind of superfluous things appear related to eachother. It's a ripple effect. So, what does it mean? Well... it means something's going to happen. Something big. But then, something's always about to happen.

I miss Cagney and Lacey

Lately I've been seeing these commercials for some new TNT show called Rizzoli and Isles, starring Angie Harmon and Sasha Alexander as two cops of some kind. What has really pissed me off about this new show is the way they have constructed these two women. In every advertisement I've seen both women are very sharply dressed, and both are wearing totally ridiculous high heels. They're both standing around looking fabulous, which I suppose is their only option since they couldn't possibly run or even walk wearing the shoes that they are wearing.

I don't plan to watch this show, nor do I really care what they wear, but truly what has happened to strong, powerful, non-glamorous women on television? These ads made me remember the old Cagney and Lacey show from the 1980s--now this show had its flaws, but still, it was refreshing to see two actors who were not supermodel types and who wore sensible shoes while they did their jobs. Why do we have to have models playing cops? Why do they have to have long flowing hair? Why do they have to wear snazzy clothes and full-on makeup? Why do they have to embody the current standard of beauty so perfectly?

Much of what was watchable about Cagney and Lacey were the stars: Sharon Gless and Tyne Daly. (I love Tyne Daly.) But they were so much more regular to me than Angie Harmon and Sasha Alexander. I'm not saying women have to look a certain way to be acceptable--far from it. I appreciate women of all shapes and sizes. I just wish we weren't so obsessed with ultra-skinny women who look like models and who wear crippling shoes to work at jobs where any person with half a brain would wear something more practical. Just saying.

Mansplaining . . . explained.

I have to thank my friend Miranda for bringing this term and idea to my attention. Of course I knew about the action that this terminology refers to, but holy shit is it nice to have a word for it!

The activity is called "mansplaining," and here is an excellent paragraph from Rebecca Solnit's opinion piece from the Los Angeles Times that perhaps began the coalescence or convergence of feminist brilliance that came up with the term:

Men explain things to me, and to other women, whether or not they know what they're talking about. Some men. Every woman knows what I mean. It's the presumption that makes it hard, at times, for any woman in any field; that keeps women from speaking up and from being heard when they dare; that crushes young women into silence by indicating, the way harassment on the street does, that this is not their world. It trains us in self-doubt and self-limitation just as it exercises men's unsupported overconfidence.

What Miranda sent me was a wonderful blog post from Science Blogs that also grapples with the mansplaining syndrome. It's worth a read. Science Blogs also refers to another blog post, by Karen Healey, about the same topic. Quoth Healey:

Mansplaining isn't just the act of explaining while male, of course; many men manage to explain things every day without in the least insulting their listeners. Mansplaining is when a dude tells you, a woman, how to do something you already know how to do, or how you are wrong about something you are actually right about, or miscellaneous and inaccurate "facts" about something you know a hell of a lot more about than he does.

Bonus points if he is explaining how you are wrong about something being sexist!

Think about the men you know. Do any of them display that delightful mixture of privilege and ignorance that leads to condescending, inaccurate explanations, delivered with the rock-solid conviction of rightness and that slimy certainty that of course he is right, because he is the man in this conversation?

That dude is a mansplainer.

It's a beautiful thing when smart feminist women gather their thoughts and work together to create greater understanding of living in patriarchy.

Review: It's Alive (1974)

The fabulous horror blog Final Girl issues a film club review challenge every once in a while, and I finally got my shit together so I could review this classic from 1974.

This 1974 gem is written and directed by Larry Cohen, and seems to deal with the birth of a mutant baby to two unfortunate parents. We begin the action during the last days of the pregnancy, when we also learn (during some late night pillow talk) that the father is perhaps not the most enthusiastic parent. Their other offspring is now 11 years old, so we kind of get the idea that this baby was, shall we say, unplanned. Anyway, Mom realizes during the birthing process, which is also a very male-dominated and not-very-woman centered parturition, that something is "different" about this birth. I'll say.

Once the baby is born, it kills every person in the delivery room, and makes a bloody mess of the hospital. It proceeds to escape (through a skylight) and then kill a bunch of hapless humans, while also seemingly seeking out its parents and the occasional bottle (or ten) of milk, which in 1974 is still charmingly delivered in glass bottles to the upscale homes in the demon parents' neighborhood. After the spawn dispatches a milkman, it makes its way to a school, and Dad somehow decides he must be the one to kill it.

A bunch of other crap happens, wherein the audience realizes that Mom is slightly nuts (understandably) and Dad has turned into an asshole. At the close of the film Dad has tried to save the child, we know Mom wants to save it, but Dad ends up flinging his mutant spawn at a cop (yes) while they are all standing around the Los Angeles River. Of course, mutant baby kills the cop. Someone covers them up with a blanket, and we learn that another mutant has been born in Seattle. Fade out . . .

What I realized as the narrative was unfolding was that this film is so blatantly about male anxiety and masculinity that it's not even remotely arguable that it's about women or childbirth or mutant babies. Think about it: it's 1974, the year after Roe v. Wade and women all of a sudden have the right to choose abortion. Interestingly, we learn in the movie that the hapless mutant baby parents considered abortion (for convenience) but then decided not to terminate the pregnancy. Aha!

This movie is a cautionary tale warning women against even thinking of having an abortion. If you even consider it, you might have a mutant baby. But back to the male anxiety aspect--I really think that this film focuses very clearly on the father and his anxiety, whereas the mother is barely significant except to act nutty and whiny, thus stereotypically feminine. The father paces around, smokes incessantly, disavows paternity, vows to kill the baby, and overall makes a big old showy display of his manliness. There is so much anxiety for MEN about pregnancy and mutant babies, this movie argues, that we must allow them to decide to terminate the pregnancy, even after its born--you see? This movie is about allowing abortion rights to men. Who cares about women--they just take drugs and mope around. The real problem here is how pregnancy and childbirth effect men.

But seriously, It's Alive is a wonderful movie that clearly grapples with women's (then) newly constitutionally recognized right to privacy, and how these rights make men very, very nervous. So nervous, in fact, that they have to band together with lots of guns and other men to alleviate their pent-up feelings of helplessness and anxiety about not having uteruses.

Besides all the groovy social commentary and gender anxiety in this movie, It's Alive has truly great effects, wonderful 1970s clothing and cars, and totally awesome music by the famous Bernard Herrmann. It's worth a look.

New Morning After Pill

Just read a story this morning about this "new" morning after pill which is effective for up to five days instead of the 72 hours of Plan B. The FDA's advisory group is recommending that the FDA give approval, but we know how that works. I don't trust them when it comes to ethical or woman-focused decisions. This new version of the morning after pill has already been available in Europe since 2009--as usual Europe is way ahead of the good old USA.

The article on CNN.com was intriguing--especially because they rely upon rabidly misogynistic group Concerned Women for America for the counter argument. I have to say I really, truly despise this group. They function in the guise of being pro-woman, but their ideology is pure hate and pure bullshit. Check out their web site if you have a strong stomach.

A few years ago they mounted a really funny campaign against The Vagina Monologues, where their tag line was something about how the Monologues "objectify" women. It makes you wonder if they even have any idea what the play is about. Morons.

Growing some english peas . . .

When I was a small dependent child, my lovely mother used to make my lunch almost every day. Often there were wonderful treats in my lunches, including such delights as fresh english peas. We used to eat peas fresh from the pod--delicious! Eating these juicy green peas is one of my favorite childhood sense memories.

But alas, these are rarely to be found in the supermarket--where one can only find sugar snap peas and crap like that. Once a year I can get them at local farmer's markets, which I always do, and I usually eat most of them on the way home.

Well, this year I bought some seeds from Seed Savers and planted those little suckers in my yard, built myself a lame-o trellis, and voila! I am proud and happy to introduce you to my english peas . . . I ate my first ones the other day, and they were delicious! So sweet, right off the vine, amazing.

and sometimes chihuahuas . . .

I know this is not political, nor is it about feminism, but when I saw this image I couldn't believe how stunningly beautiful this little chihuahua is, wrapped in a lovely scarf, impersonating Kim Novak. The image is available from Etsy seller Lucy Snow.

you just have to be scared . . .

Pretty hilarious critique of those osteoporosis drug advertisements. I actually never thought about them as being gendered in a sexist way, but they sure are. Just goes to show what a good parody can do for critical thinking!

p.s. Feministing mentions that Sarah Haskins is no longer doing her lady advertising spoofs--oh no! What will we do without her?

stuff christian people like . . .

I found this really great, snarky blog called Stuff Christian Culture Likes. It's pretty funny and actually enlightening. Most of the posts are kind of silly, but I actually learned a few things about contemporary christianity that I didn't know. Check it out--it's interesting! Being a semi-fan of 24, I really like this Jack Bauer post. Hilarious!

Lemon-Blueberry Coffee Cake semi-disaster

This morning I made a delicious coffee cake that I've made before. It's a lemon-blueberry coffee cake, made with bisquick, lemon, sugar, eggs, milk, and fresh blueberries. I mixed it up, baked it, then took it out of the oven. Then, like a doorknob, I didn't test it for "doneness."

So of course when I tried to flip it out of the pan, it kind of fell out in a saggy heap. So sad! So I put it on a pizza pan and baked it for another 15 minutes. It looked ridiculous, but tasted very good.

I learned my lesson: always measure the bluberries, and always always test for doneness. Duh.

Jaan Pehechaan Ho!

I love the novel Ghost World by Daniel Clowes. In the movie version there is this incredibly groovy song, and my very stylish and cool friend Nikki posted this video of the very cool song on FaceBook. I decided it was so awesome I wanted it on my blog.

Enjoy!

Oklahoma not okay!

From The Daily Beast:

The Oklahoma Legislature has voted to override two vetoes to pass two strict measures restricting abortion. One requires a doctor to set up an ultrasound in the woman’s room, show her the fetus, and describe its organs and limbs (there is no exemption for rape or incest). The other says doctors are not liable for malpractice if they elect to not tell a pregnant woman that the fetus she’s carrying has birth defects—the intent is to prevent parents from suing a doctor who hid the information to prevent an abortion. Democratic Gov. Brad Henry vetoed both measures, calling the second “unconscionable” in allowing a physician to mislead a patient. Another measure in the legislature requires a woman to fill out a questionnaire about why she’s seeking the procedure; the statistics based on answers would be posted online.

You can read more about this idiocy at the New York Times.

bitch, complain, appreciate . . .

I've been wanting to complain lately. Not for any particular reason, just because I'm getting irritated at certain things in life that continue to plague me when perhaps I should just let them go . . .

So I thought I'd first appreciate a few things.

1. I love this piece of art by Jennifer Davis. Sublime.
2. I love the spring in Des Moines. Nothing better.
3. I really truly love my family and friends.
4. I like it when strangers wave at me.
5. My sister can make me laugh harder than anyone else. (sorry, Bob.)
6. The semester is almost over! Summer awaits!
7. I love the new word for redheads: Gingers!

Now here are my complaints:

1. It really bugs me when people call California "Cali."
2. I'm sick of people texting and talking on their cell phones ALL THE TIME.
3. I'm really, truly tired of anti-feminist bullshit and unexamined male privilege.
4. If those Tea-partiers don't go away soon I might scream.


So, now that this is all out of my system, I can go on about my life and perhaps finish all the work I should have been doing as I wrote this diatribe.

Too Fat for Television?

Here we go again. Apparently, ABC did not want to show this advertisement for Lane Bryant lingerie because there was "too much cleavage" showing. The ad was supposed to air during some show called Dancing With the Stars or something like that.



I'm not a big fan of lingerie ads, especially the Victoria's Secret commercials, since they perpetuate the objectification of women's bodies, and they uphold a ridiculous standard of beauty.

The Victoria's Secret images, in particular, reinscribe the idea that women need to have big boobs and be ridiculously skinny in order to be beautiful. That said, I like this Lane Bryant ad simply because the model is NOT stick-thin and has curves. But really, ABC, are you objecting to cleavage or to the fact that the model is more than a size 2?

Come clean, you scumbags.

UPDATE: Of course, Sociological images has a truly excellent and much more nuanced analysis. Check it out here.

You should call it black-span???

Unbelievable. Really, truly, what a fucking jerk. The host was way too nice to him--should have called him out.

Vintage Franciscan china is sublime . . .

and I'm weirdly obsessed with these beautiful Franciscan china patterns. I don't know why I've got this jones for these particular patterns, but for the last few years I've been slowly collecting various pieces (only when they're reasonably priced) on Etsy and Ebay.

Also, I thought I'd take a needed break from ranting and raving about politics and add a little homage to design.

These patterns are, from top to bottom, Fern Dell, Sycamore, and Moondance. Love these vintage patterns.

Stupid People Scare Me!

Another astounding video from the smart and sassy folks at New Left Media. If you can bear it, this video is truly worth watching.

Women Deserve Better Than Feminists For Life

Last night I attended a talk given by Serrin Foster, president of Feminists for Life. This talk was sponsored by the pro-life student group at Drake. I decided to attend because I was very curious how such a group would present their ideas and ideology. To me, feminist and pro-life don't really go together. I do accept that many feminists disagree about many things, but I also feel very strongly that feminism must accept female autonomy in terms of reproductive rights. That said, I was very disturbed by the group's message last night.

Serrin Foster is a dynamic speaker and very personable. She is also smart, knowledgeable, and seems to care about women. But, and this but is a big one, despite all of the rhetoric of her organization, I have to argue that they don't care about women. They care about birth. And what I mean by that is that they don't really care about preventing unwanted pregnancy, or unplanned pregnancy, or helping women avoid pregnancy--they care about the woman once she is pregnant. Or really, they care about the pregnancy itself.

This organization actually does some really positive things for women. They try to make it possible for women who become pregnant while still in college or grad school to stay in school and complete their educations. They help with housing, childcare, breastfeeding issues, and healthcare. But they also only help a woman who wants to keep or adopt her baby. They are profoundly against abortion--no matter what. So in other words, they care about helping women give birth, and uniquely, they actually give a shit about her life once she gives birth. My objection to all of this is that there is no room in their ideology for anything but reproduction--no abortion, no birth control, no family planning.

When I asked Ms. Foster about if her group helps young women prevent pregnancy by providing sex education and access to contraception, she told me that they only really get involved once the woman is pregnant, partially becasue there is "so much controversy" about the various methods of birth control. This stance tells me that they really don't care about women--they care about the pregnancy. Pro-life? No. Pro-birth is more like it.

I could go on and on about the problems and inconsistencies of this group and their twisted ideology, but I've got real work to do. Some of my work involves helping actual women with all kinds of issues. But I have to mention one thing in particular--I liked Serrin Foster. She was smart and seemed kind. She actually spoke the truth about many things, although she did make a few important factual errors--like saying that any woman can get an abortion any time during a pregnancy, even during the ninth month. This is patently wrong--abortion is illegal in the third trimester. Anyway, when one particularly smug woman in the audience asked a question about women who have abortions cavalierly, Foster backed me up when I argued that this woman was dead wrong.

My other favorite moment was when another woman in the audience made a comment about how birth control messes up a woman's body by subverting a system that is meant for reproduction. Aha! I asked her if she realized that what she was saying was that women should only have heterosexual intercourse in order to reproduce. A bunch of people in the audience spoke up, challenging my interpretation of what the woman meant. So I asked her, are women allowed to have sex for pleasure? She said yes, in marriage. So then I asked, so not outside of marriage? She said, no--that's what the Lord wants.

Once that came out, to me, the real purpose of Feminists For Life and their vision for women was crystal clear. Their mission is an end-run around reproductive rights. Their goal, although not explicitly stated as such, is to convince women that it is not feminist to have an abortion, and that their true purpose on earth is to give birth. In other words, their slogan "women deserve better than abortion" means nothing more than abortion is wrong and women who have an abortion are also wrong. Birth control is wrong. Family planning is wrong.

I wish I had the time to more thoroughly analyze the talk and this group. If you're interested, you can visit their website and read for yourself how they have appropriated the language of feminism to further their decidedly anti-feminist goal of controlling women's bodies.