Archive for July, 2004

Teaching, maleness, race, class, and privilege

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 9, 2004
in Class, Men and Masculinity, Race and Teaching
. 3 Comments

First off, go and read Jenell’s brief but superb commentary on Christianity and the inner cities. Great stuff.

Yesterday, a very thoughtful reader e-mailed me in regards to the post on dress code and names and asked:

I was wondering if simply being male (unfairly) conveys its own authority so that a male prof who is dressed casually still conveys authority while a female prof who is dressed casually loses some authority. Also, how do issues of race affect this? Does being white also (unfairly) convey its own authority regardless of dress?

Have you thought about addressing your female students in your gender studies class by their last names - Ms. Smith, etc? Would this help create an atmosphere of respect even more than using first names? Also, what’s wrong with recognizing hierarchy? You said you have the power of the grade book, so could an overly friendly or casual atmosphere lead to a situation where a student gets upset over a grade and says, but I thought we were friends!

I ask not to be nosy but because I hope to be a professor someday and I am interested in these issues.

Another reader, Blackcoffeeblues, asked in the comments section:

As a prof myself, I really want them to call me by my first name. I always try to change from a suit into comfortable clothing, i.e. jeans, before class for my own comfort, plus the rooms are always really cold! My students seem to be really comfortable with both my dress and using my first name. I’m wondering, however, if that has to do with the fact that I am the youngest prof teaching in this program, I look younger than I am, I’m really small in stature and I’m female? I also wonder if the fact that they know I’m only an adjunct and teach part time after getting off of my “regular” job as opposed to the true “academic” faculty makes me appear more accessible?

Lots to think about.

There’s no question that my maleness gives me more latitude in terms of how I dress. What looks “comfortable” on a man might well be called (by some) “sloppy” on a woman. In summers past, I have even taught in shorts and sandals, in complete confidence that my attire would not affect my ability to be heard by my students. I’m not sure many of my female colleagues would have felt equally comfortable.

The race and class issue is also intriguing. Colleges and universities are comfortable places for me. My father taught at the University of California; my mother at another community college. My maternal grandparents and great-grandparents went to college in California. I’ll freely admit that I have grown up with a sense of entitlement about higher education: “OF COURSE I belong here, and I am so comfortable here, I feel I can wear anything I want.” As a straight, white, Christian male, no one questions my credentials in the classroom. When I bother to dress up (once in a blue moon these days) and cover the tattoos, I look like most folks in authority in this country. I am perfectly aware that this is a colossally unfair advantage, one I have not earned, but one from which I benefit. (Though I am ethnically half-Jewish, I have never run into anti-Semitism directed at me. Most folks are quite surprised to discover my Jewish roots.)

I realize that my “white maleness” allows me to disdain the title “doctor” and to insist on going by my first name. I find that the folks at the community college most insistent on using the title Dr. are those who are the first in their families to earn Ph.D.s. Even more often, I see it used by women or minorities who don’t meet the typical profile of those who receive doctorates in this country — they have had far more to prove. Now that I think about it, I can afford to say “Call me Hugo” instead of “Dr. Schwyzer”, because I am so danged confident that no one will question my right to teach! No one has ever told me I don’t belong in academia. (Well, except for one very unpleasant Classics professor my first year of graduate school, who said my comprehension of Latin noun declensions was abysmal.) No one has ever mistaken me for a janitor or a faculty wife! (The former has happened many times to a black male colleague of mine; the latter to several of my female colleagues.)

So what do I do about this unmerited privilege? Do I retreat into formality as a way of rejecting it? I’ve tried it, and it feels awkward. I don’t think it serves my students well. In addition to issues of race and class and sex, there are also issues of plain-old human personality at work: Hugo is an informal person, and not just because he’s a white guy, but because he’s Hugo! Good teachers, whoever they are, bring their authentic selves into the classroom. I’d like to think I’m a good teacher, and I know in my gut I teach best when I am deliberately contemptuous of hierarchy!

There’s also the issue of power. My reader asked “What’s wrong with recognizing hierarchy?” In some sense, the reader is right. Using first names and being friendly with my students is a way of creating and maintaining the fiction that we are all equal. But they desperately want good grades, and I have the grade book. In that sense, our “friendship” isn’t based on equality, any more than the “fictive friendship” one usually sees between a saleswoman and her client in an upscale boutique. But the fact that there is a power imbalance doesn’t render friendship impossible, at least not in my book! Perhaps I am fooling myself when I say that, because in all honesty, I don’t have a way of explaining that belief. I need to think more about that.

Teaching is all I’ve ever known. I’ve never held a full-time job outside of academia. I worked two summers for the public works department in Carmel by-the-Sea (my hometown). I worked three summers for a federal defense attorney in Century City while in grad school. I taught one summer at a private high school in the San Fernando Valley. I spent two years as a TA for History and Classics courses at UCLA. I edited a journal in medieval studies my last year in grad school. But basically, all I know how to do is teach. I doubt I will ever do anything else. I fully expect to stay in this same job — quite happily — for the next quarter century, until I retire sometime around 2030.

As I get older, I may want some more formality. I suspect (though I don’t exactly know why) that when I have kids, I will want to be “Mr. Schwyzer.” (That’s as far as I would ever go — I don’t like “Professor”, and the title “doctor” is, for me, still unspeakably affected and pretentious). I change my syllabi every couple of years, I add and remove tattoos and piercings, I develop new courses and drop old ones, I change my churches and my political registration the way some folks change their clothes: I am fairly sure I will undergo many more changes in my beliefs about formality in the classroom!

The Thursday Short Poem

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 8, 2004
in Poetry
. 3 Comments

Annika and Jen regularly post poems that have real meaning for them. I like the idea of posting (short) examples of some of our favorites. Here at the Hugoboy, we’re now beginning the practice of The Thursday Short Poem.

My favorite living American poet (lots of qualifiers) is W.S. Merwin. My favorite of his poems is “Vixen“:

Comet of stillness princess of what is over
high note held without trembling without voice without sound
aura of complete darkness keeper of the kept secrets
of the destroyed stories the escaped dreams the sentences
never caught in words warden of where the river went
touch of its surface sibyl of the extinguished
window onto the hidden place and the other time
at the foot of the wall by the road patient without waiting
in the full moonlight of autumn at the hour when I was born
you no longer go out like a flame at the sight of me
you are still warmer than the moonlight gleaming on you
even now you are unharmed even now perfect
as you have always been now when your light paws are running on
the breathless night on the bridge with one end I remember you
when I have heard you the soles of my feet have made answer when
I have seen you I have waked and slipped from the calendars
from the creeds of difference and contradictions
that were my life and all the crumbling fabrications
as long as it lasted until something that we were
had ended when you are no longer anything
let me catch sight of you again going over the wall
and before the garden is extinct and the woods are figures
guttering on a screen let my words find their own
places in the silence after the animals

The first time I read it, I was standing in the Earthling Bookstore in Santa Barbara in June 1996, and I burst into tears right there. I read it aloud, softly to myself, over and over again, until the page was wet and I had to buy the book. (Merwin is one of those poets who MUST be read aloud, or he makes no sense; getting used to the absence of punctuation is always tough!) I often recite these lines to myself on long runs:

when I have heard you the soles of my feet have made answer when
I have seen you I have waked and slipped from the calendars
from the creeds of difference and contradictions
that were my life and all the crumbling fabrications…

I’ve changed my mind 16 times as to what it means. But damn, it’s still good.

Tattoos, Adornment, Spirituality

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 8, 2004
in Body and Faith
. 12 Comments

In response to my post immediately below, Ginger asked:

How do you square your tattoos with your religious beliefs? Did you get them before you were very religious? I ask because I got a tattoo a few years ago during a not so spirtual time in my life, and now I really regret having scarred my body. Your thoughts? (I sense that I have inspired a post topic for you.)

Jenell gives a helpful answer:

Ginger, my family believes that tatooing (and cremation, too) is forbidden by scripture because it is a form of witchcraft. I think this comes from an obscure passage in Leviticus or Numbers about the practice of witchcraft. Its relevance is limited to that cultural context, and it is nowhere repeated by Jesus or established for the New Testament church. Tattooing, like cremation, isn’t necessarily tied to witchcraft - but it apparently was in that culture.

I think the sacred taboo against tattooing is sort of a Christian ‘urban legend’ propagated by people who just don’t like tattoos.

I agree absolutely with Jenell. And Ginger, you have indeed inspired a post!

I have five tattoos in total; two of which are visible when I wear a t-shirt. I acquired all five between April 1997 and September 2000, a period of intense spiritual growth in my life. (I also acquired three piercings during this period; they have been removed.) For me, tattoos are deeply spiritual. They represent two things to me: the valuing of the body and permanence. When I was younger, I abused my body in a wide variety of ways. (I went to Berkeley, and took into my system many, many unhealthy things.) I also scarred my body physically, usually after having imbibed far more than was advisable. Thus by the time I was 30, my body carried on it physical signs of my earlier lifestyle; the manifestations of late adolescent angst were visible on my flesh.

My five tattoos were all chosen because I thought they were aesthetically pleasing and spiritually symbolic. I had grown up hating my body and mistreating it. By placing beautiful images upon my flesh, I was saying to myself “Hugo, your body is good. It is worthy of love and care and decoration.” Where once I had scarred my flesh, now I adorned my flesh — and trust me, psychologically and spiritually, there is a world of difference! I can’t say I always like my body. I will be the first to admit that even at 37, like many women and quite a few men, I have “body image” problems. I don’t often like the way I look naked. But some of the things I like most about my body are these five tattoos — they stand for growth, they stand for love, they stand (dare I say it) that in my mind, my body is beautiful no matter what it weighs and no matter how pale my skin may be. For seven years, since I first got “inked”, tattoos have been a source of great comfort for me.

I am also aware that tattoos are major commitments. They are permanent (or almost so; they can be removed at great cost and with considerable discomfort). I grew up a child of divorce in a culture of divorce and separation. If there’s one thing my secular friends and I all believed with a grim passion, it was that “nothing lasts forever.” As odd as it may seem, getting a tattoo was a way of saying to myself “Now I’ve done something I can’t back out of. Now, I’ve committed to something for life.” Believe it or not, getting tattooed made me more aware of my ability to make and keep promises. These images drilled into my flesh? They are mine. I chose them. They will be with me (I presume) forever. They stand not merely for a great and wonderful period of growth in my life, they stand for my commitment to honor and nurture my body rather than mistreat and scar it. (Parenthetically, let me note that the year I got tattooed for the first time, 1997, was the year I started distance running — another way of caring for my flesh.)

Look, tattoos are not for everyone. I am not suggesting that they are some sort of spiritual discipline that everyone ought to adopt. There are as many motives for getting tattoos as there are people who get them. I am glad I was 29 before I got inked for the first time — glad that I made what I still consider to be healthy and aesthetic choices that represented an adult Hugo taking responsibility for his life. I am open to the possibility that in the future I will feel differently, but for now, everytime I undress, I see these external symbols that mark my own journey — and I am grateful.

Dress code and names

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 7, 2004
in Clothing and Fashion and Teaching
. 12 Comments

I’ve been thinking today about what I wear in the classroom.

When I first came to Pasadena City College in 1993, I was a twenty-six year-old adjunct. I taught two courses (one each on Tuesday and Thursday nights). I was a very nervous fellow, and I was insecure about my age. In my night courses, a third of my students were older than I was! As a result, I tried to dress as differently from my students as possible. I had three or four pairs of nice khaki trousers, and I rotated them loyally. I had some basic blue and white oxford-style shirts (from Land’s End and J.Crew) and I mixed and matched them with various ties. I would never have dreamed of teaching in those early days without a tie on — I felt an overwhelming need to establish my legitimacy as a professor, despite my youthfulness.

Once I got a full-time post the following year, I began to experiment with one casual day a week. It took me a while to work up to jeans, but I allowed myself a day or two without a tie. (Lots of polo shirts and khakis with penny-loafers — it was heavy on the preppiness.) I tried to pay close attention to my students’ reaction to my clothes. Did they seem less respectful when I was more casual? Or did they seem more at ease?

Of course, the community college being what it is, I got both reactions. Some students really do seem to appreciate seeing their profs “dressed up”. For these folks, more business-like attire helps them to feel comfortable in their role as learners. Some seem to feel that if I am dressed seriously and soberly, than that gives my words extra “gravitas”. Other students seemed alienated by my “dressy days.” They were less likely to ask questions and more likely to remain silent in classroom discussions when I was dressed differently than they were. Clearly, some college students want their profs to be remote “authority figures”; others want us to be warm “buddy figures.” Ain’t no way to please ‘em all!

One thing I have figured out: my students are more comfortable when I appear to be comfortable. And frankly, I’m a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy. (Yes, I do care about the brand of jeans and the brand of t-shirt; I spend far too much money on both.) When I am at ease, they seem more at ease. I still have some senior colleagues who have made it clear that they wish I wouldn’t wear jeans so often, or wear t-shirts that reveal some of my tattoos. I’m aware that there are a few of my students who may also be uncomfortable with my more casual dress. But I’m unlikely to go back to the ties and khakis anytime soon.

I also am (I confess) one of those profs who really encourages the first name thing. I HATE being called “Dr. Schwyzer”. (Where I come from, the only folks who get to be called “doctor” are those with a medical degree. I was raised in a family where the use of “doctor” by a Ph.D. was considered vulgar and showy — and I have to admit, I still think that way.) I’m not big on Professor Schwyzer or Mr. Schwyzer. I still want to be called Hugo. I know that some of my more conservative students from other cultures really have a hard time with this. We compromise on “Dr. Hugo”, which just seems ridiculous to me but seems to meet their psychological need for hierarchy.

Interestingly, I only became rigidly insistent on first names after becoming a Mennonite. West coast Mennonites wouldn’t dream of calling ANYONE by their last name. Our pastors are “Jim”, “Bert”, and “Jennifer”. How on earth can I expect others to call me by my surname (with a title) when I call my spiritual advisors by their first name?

Dr. Hugo is teaching the rise of 19th century Nationalism today in a grey t-shirt, blue Lucky jeans, and my favorite pair of really cool Pumas.

Bikes and Bankruptcy

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 7, 2004
in Athletics and Fitness, Christianity, Money and Sexual harassment
. 11 Comments

My gal has been getting up at dawn each morning this week to watch the Tour de France live; I confess, she’s got me hooked as well. I’ve even added a link to the excellent “Tour de France” blog; it has up-to-the-minute news from the race. I’m seriously thinking about buying a road bike so I can do some cross-training. My body has held up well with five days a week of running, especially since I do so much of it on dirt; nonetheless, the “no-impact” aspect of cycling intrigues me. (I just think men look a bit silly in bike shorts. As one of my best friends put it years ago, whenever he wears them, he feels like he’s “smuggling plums”.)

By the way, I love the Lance Armstrong Nike ad. Ralph at Cliopatria brought it to my attention a month or so ago, and I play it twice a day.

The Catholic archdiocese of Portland has filed for bankruptcy protection; it is surely only the first of many dioceses to do so in the face of lawsuits resulting from allegations of sexual abuse by priests:

Although the decision raises serious questions about the future of archdiocesan schools, parish property and donations, plaintiffs and their attorneys accused Roman Catholic officials of seeking yet again to cover up 50 years of priest abuse.

“They have been morally bankrupt my entire life,” said James Devereaux, one of two plaintiffs who was set to go to trial Tuesday.

But in an earlier news conference, Portland Archbishop John G. Vlazny said bankruptcy was the church’s only move in the face of empty coffers, a pair of lawsuits seeking more than $155 million and dozens of other unsettled claims. In its filing, the archdiocese said its largest 20 lawsuits added up to more than $340 million in claims.

20 lawsuits adding up to $340 million? That’s $17 million per claim! As awful as the church’s sex scandal has been, how can anyone justify taking that kind of money away from a non-profit? I’ve been kicked off a jury panel because I made it clear that I was morally troubled by the notion of damages for “pain and suffering”. I’ve got no problem with paying the therapy bills for all of those who suffered at the hands of abusive priests; I have a huge problem with bankrupting a diocese to pay for something as utterly unquantifiable as “pain and suffering!” I’m not diminishing the horrific nature of what was done to so many young men and women by some very troubled priests. I just know that the good and vital work of the larger church has already been compromised by a few “bad apples”; it makes little sense to me to further undermine the church’s work by forcing her to pay exorbitant legal judgments or descend into Chapter 11! (Note: I am totally inconsistent. I am a fan of John Edwards and other trial lawyers who get big, punitive damage awards against corporations — I just have a completely different view of things when the corporation being sued is Holy Mother Church, and I know the money is coming from parishioner’s pockets, and, as the article above notes, will lead to the closure of schools.)

As I’ve posted before, the Catholic sex abuse scandal hits home for me. As a volunteer youth pastor, the revelations about the church in the past three years have created an unpleasant “climate of suspicion” for any male who chooses to volunteer his time and energy to work with adolescents. At times, I’ve felt a great deal of anger at those priests who did abuse kids, because they’ve made things so much more difficult for men like me who ought to be trusted. Though I understand why I have to do it, it does get damned tiring proving over and over again that I am “safe”. Every headline about sexual abuse in the church (and there are plenty of stories from within Protestantism) creates another barrier to be overcome.

I wish that instead of ugly and costly lawsuits, the church could create a “Truth and Reconciliation Commission” along the lines of what was done in South Africa in the 1990s. Victims of abuse could be invited to tell their stories. Surviving abusers would be required to listen, and given an opportunity to apologize and make amends. Those who were complicit in covering up the abuse would also be required to participate, and given immunity from prosecution in exchange for honesty and remorse. The church would bear the costs of the commission, as well as paying for therapeutic care for the victims — but it would be immune from mammoth punitive damages. I can hope.

On related lines, Lynn at Noli Irritare Leones has a fine summary of recent postings on priestly celibacy. It’s worth a visit.

I’m going to play the Lance video again.

How folks get here

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 6, 2004
in Blogging
. 1 Comment

Rudy Carrasco often lists how folks come to his blog. Going through my stats and referrers from just the past 18 hours, I found the following search terms led people here:

“Christians for Kerry” (again)
“Working with youth boundaries” (A good idea)
“Chinnie Harvard” (Matilde is bright, but she’s a bit young for college)
“Lara Roxx” (still, after all this time)
“Sex Islam” (I wasn’t aware it needed it)
“MTV gastric bypass” (I remember when they only showed videos)
“Toyota Solara” (I’m diggin’ mine)
“Men hugging” (I’m in favor of it)
“addicted to strip clubs” (I’m against it)
“soccer nude children” (Sigh. Why?)
“hugo professor not” (I am too! I am!)
“Christianity and the Left” (That’s right)
“Fat jokes” (not here, bub, not here)
“Mennonite Kucinich” (Wishful thinking)
“Chinnie pic” (You bet your dust bath)
“Presidential candidate for Mennonites” (Really? Where???)
“Gay Pepperdine” (Not if the administration can help it)
“Pepperdine nude” (Not sure the administration will go for that, either)
“Learning to run” (Stick your right foot forward…)
“Mennonite complexion” (Bright and shiny for the Lord, thanks)
“Sex boys with boys” (Uh…)
“Righteous anger excuse” (Let me know when you find one)
“California porn” (that one came from the Finnish Google)
“Gang initiation rape fresno” (Um, I wasn’t there)
“Hugo Schwyzer” (He’s here)
“Hugo blog” (He does)

Midterms, Edwards, tenure

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 6, 2004
in Politics and Teaching
. 15 Comments

I’m back in the office after the long weekend, and facing a large stack of midterms to grade by Thursday. I know students dislike it when you don’t get tests back promptly, and in summer school, that means within one week. From what I’ve seen so far, I have the usual “mixed bag”…

Kerry has selected John Edwards as his running mate, something that cannot possibly rank as much of a surprise. It’s a good choice, especially given how articulate and positive a figure Edwards is. I’ll look forward to the Edwards-Cheney veep debate with real interest. Then again, I don’t know anyone whose vote will be swayed this fall by the presence or absence of a John Edwards on the ticket. Most of the Democrats I know are sufficiently motivated to vote against Bush that had Kerry selected the likes of Pat Robertson, the senator from Massachusetts would still be in no danger of losing their vote. John Kerry will continue to have my vote, and a small and periodic stream of financial donations as well.

CNN also has a brief piece on tenure today. It’s about the tenure system for K-12 teachers, not for those of us at the college level. Still, the article reflects much of the reality for community college professors in California today. In most states, two-year public colleges are governed the way other public schools are: by locally elected boards who hire and fire the administration. In that respect, we in the so-called “junior college” system have more in common with our brethren who teach high school than we do with our colleagues who teach at the likes of Berkeley or UCLA. (Hence, my loyal — and expensive — membership in the California Teachers Association. I pay $978 annually in union dues to be joined in solidarity with kindergarten teachers in Yreka and seventh-grade social studies teachers in Salinas.) But I was born and raised to be a union man, and no matter what the shortcomings or the cost of that union may be, the idea of not “paying my fair share” is anathema.)

I hear constantly how “tenure protects bad teachers.” I hear constantly how “the union protects incompetence.” Well, in my experience, for every bad teacher tenure protects, it enables several bright and brave teachers to teach fearlessly. If it weren’t for tenure, I would never dare teach Lesbian and Gay American history on what is still a relatively conservative college campus. I would never dare teach a course on Men and Masculinity. From what I’ve seen, fear leads to timidity — job security leads to daring and innovation. That’s the exact opposite of the conventional wisdom of the marketplace. But as the child of two retired college professors, and as someone who has spent his life to date within academia, I am absolutely convinced that the merits of tenure infinitely outweigh its costs. This is from the CNN article:

Michael Kramer, who represents teachers as general counsel for the Georgia Association of Educators, says tenure can help the educational mission by protecting strong, outspoken teachers.

“It’s the brightest, the risk-taking teachers,” he said, “who are most at risk for arbitrary dismissal.”

If I weren’t tenured, I would feel much more pressure to inflate grades and “pander” to my students in the hopes of receiving high evaluations. I would confine my areas of interest to the safe and to the familiar, making certain that I, in the words of a part-time adjunct lecturer I know, “was just good enough to get by but not so good as to arouse enmity from other faculty.” Every change to my syllabus, every new lecture prepared, would only be done after I had asked myself: “Will this help or hurt my chances of getting rehired?” I wish to note, however, that I have seen part-time faculty do astonishingly innovative and courageous things in the classroom. I am amazed by that! Frankly, they are braver than I would be in their position.

When I first started teaching Lesbian and Gay American History in 2001, I did receive considerable criticism. A few complaints were made to the administration. (One anonymous soul was upset, not that the course was being taught, but that it was being taught by a straight man; the other complaints were more typically homophobic.) I only received one angry phone call from a member of the community, an anguished woman who worried that I was “teaching immorality.” She was reasonably polite, and I gave her the names and numbers of our local board members, suggesting that she direct her complaints to them. But because I had tenure, I was able to continue to teach this course without fear of retaliation from the administration or the board. I also knew that even if my course content offended certain members of the community, I could continue to teach without reprisal. Tenure gave me that.

I do think the reward of “lifetime employment” should be given only after a period of evaluation and discernment. (For those of us in the community college system in California, it’s a four-year process that takes into account student, peer, and administrative evaluations.) I have no doubt that there are a few isolated instances of lazy or incompetent faculty members who are protected by tenure. But when I look around my department and my college, I see a high number of dedicated, gutsy professors doing exciting things in their classrooms. I am glad that they (and I) are protected by tenure. After all, many of us could have had far more lucrative careers in the private sector. We chose teaching and public service instead; in the face of that sacrifice, job security is hardly an unmerited luxury. Rather, tenure is both compensation for what we have all given up as well as an incentive to take the kind of necessary risks that make teaching and learning so damn exciting.
Yes, I’ve been damned lucky. Yes, I know this sounds like union propaganda. But it is also my deep conviction, rooted in two decades in higher education as a student, a teaching assistant, a tenure-track instructor, and now a tenured professor.

Off for the Fourth

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 2, 2004
in Family, Holidays and Sports
. 2 Comments

I’m off for the weekend. No blogging until Tuesday.

Growing up in my family, there were four holidays of roughly equal importance:

Easter, the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

As a child, I came to my family’s Northern California ranch for all four, year in and year out. It took me years to realize that for most folks, the Fourth did not rank anywhere near the other three in importance! For us, the Fourth was and still is a major family get-together, involving extended family, safe and sane fireworks, and (most importantly) homemade banana ice cream. Tomorrow, in the afternoon, my mother and aunts will carefully concoct the batter, and then the men of the family will hand crank out several batches of sweet and perfect banana ice cream. (We’ve been making it in my family since the 1930s. We occasionally make other flavors, such as peppermint, strawberry, or cookies and cream — but banana is the heart and soul of the operation.)

Sunday, I’ll try and hog the Direct TV and watch Wimbledon, the Tour de France, and the Euro 2004 final all at once. Then, we’ll decorate the Ranch houses (indoors and out) with flags and bunting. I may have pacifist lefty leanings, but on the Fourth, I am a patriot to my core. In the evening, after everyone has had their burgers and their hot dogs and other goodnesses, my teenage cousins will put on a fireworks display — I shall be standing nearby, clutching a hose.

I remember that a few years ago, a very left-wing cousin of mine (from Colorado) remarked that he didn’t like coming to the Fourth because of all of the flag displays. I shared his politics, but I was indignant nonetheless: “It’s not about the flag, Terry”, I said, “It’s just about the family.” I don’t sing the National Anthem. I won’t say the pledge. But come every Independence Day, I sing “God Bless America” and wave the red, white, and blue with intense enthusiasm. And I eat lots and lots of banana ice cream.

A safe and happy time to all, especially to those who are traveling.

Spies in the pews

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 1, 2004
in Christianity, GLBTQ, Marriage and Politics
. 8 Comments

I found this story in the Kansas City Star via Marriage Debate:

Starting next month, the person seated next to you in church might not be there for the prayer, the fellowship or even the word of God.

Instead, about 100 volunteers will be attending services in Johnson County to look for overt election-year politicking from the pulpit, which could violate federal law.

It is the latest volley in an ongoing struggle between conservative and moderate political forces in Kansas. The issue of gays and marriage provided the trigger.

Upset at the Kansas Legislature for defeating a constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage, the Rev. Jerry Johnston, pastor of First Family Church in Overland Park, invited area clergy members to a meeting this month. About 100 came, he said. Churches, he said, must get more involved in politics. “God calls a minister to speak on moral issues,” Johnston said.

Concerned that religious leaders might stir up support for their favored legislative candidates, the Mainstream Coalition, a group that seeks to preserve the separation of church and state, decided to respond.

Volunteers were recruited. Letters are being mailed to more than 400 houses of worship in Johnson County reminding them of Internal Revenue Service rules on electioneering and telling them that their services may be monitored.

Johnston and other ministers should keep partisan politics out of the pulpit, said Caroline McKnight, coalition executive director. “His job is to lead his flock by setting an example … not by bringing the smoke-filled room into his sanctuary,” she said.

Better not send the Mainstream Coalition to my beloved All Saints Episcopal Church here in Pasadena! Check out this sermon by our former rector, George Regas, preached in April. Just a couple of excerpts:

It is now abundantly clear that America went to war in a dishonest way…

There is much evidence that Iraq was part of the new Bush doctrine of empire in the making before 9/11, where the US was the first among the nations…. the arrogance of that is stunning.

In the face of staggering poverty, the military budget this year is $400 billion… I personally think this is a criminal mismanagement of our nation’s resources.

Words like this come from our pulpit every week. (I happen to agree with George Regas most of the time, so it doesn’t offend me in the least; I hear the same sort of thing at the Mennonite Church all the time.)

I want to see a clear standard on what forms of “church speech” do and do not violate IRS law. If the right can organize against gay marriage, than we on the left can organize for it. If we lefty Mennonites and Anglicans can accuse the current administration of “criminal mismanagement”, than the right ought to be able to say the equivalent about those in power who support same-sex unions.

Somehow, I doubt that this “mainstream coalition” in Kansas sees things that way. And regardless of the politics, the idea of spies in the pews turns my stomach.

“soft of cheek, with limpid stares…”

Published
by
Hugo Schwyzer
on July 1, 2004
in Body, Men and Masculinity and Movies
. 3 Comments

Today’s New York Times reports on the growing importance of “metrosexual” male actors in Hollywood:

…as a generation of romantic and action heroes have passed into middle age, among them Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Harrison Ford and Kevin Costner…

they have been replaced by young men who look and seem very different. There is the thoughtful, vegetarian Tobey Maguire (star of the just-released Spiderman 2), who turned 29 on Sunday, and the lanky Jake Gyllenhaal, 23, a star in “The Day After Tomorrow.” Other new-model leading men include Orlando Bloom, a slim British actor who stars in “Troy” this summer and was recently cast as the lead warrior in “Kingdom of Heaven,” a Crusader epic directed by Ridley Scott; the baby-faced Leonardo DiCaprio, who rose to fame as the artistic stowaway in “Titanic” and has been cast as Alexander the Great in a movie being developed by the director Baz Luhrmann; and the brooding Ryan Gosling, the romantic lead of “The Notebook,” which opened on Friday.

First off, the article paints with a broad brush. I see no mention of Vin Diesel, the extremely macho action star who (informally, mind you) won a poll of a group of my female students as “sexiest male actor”. Secondly, this stuff tends to be cyclical; James Dean was certainly brooding, certainly pretty, and, in some significant ways, was a prototype for later “metrosexuality.” The article makes that point only in passing.

I’m also a bit suspicious of the Times’ explanation for these changes:

…with so many women running Hollywood studios, a more feminine sensibility may have crept into the casting decisions.

“The access of women at the very top of the food chain at the studios — Amy Pascal at Sony, Nina Jacobson at Disney, Stacey Snider at Universal, Sherry Lansing at Paramount — has to mean a leavening of the testosterone effect,” said Peter Guber, a producer and host of the AMC cable talk show “Sunday Morning Shootout.” “Their impact is felt. It’s not by design, not as a cabal; it just references their taste. Some of the male leads tend not just to a right-brain but a left-brain sensibility.”

Even if that were true, I’m curious as to the congruence between the “tastes” of a few extremely powerful female Hollywood moguls and “average” American women. One could even surmise, somewhat dangerously, that women in positions of immense influence might have radically different tastes in men — though whether they would prefer them to be more or less masculine than their less privileged sisters is open to question.

I do appreciate that the article notes that all of the actors under discussion are white. Black, Latino, and Asian actors tend to be cast in far more limited roles, roles that often reflect unpleasant cultural stereotypes about men of their ethnic background.

Like many young men, I spent my youth looking to actors to show me “how to be a man.” I was never really happy with my choices! The male film idols of my high school days were the “Brat Packers” (Judd Nelson, Rob Lowe, Robert Downey, Jr., Emilio Estevez, etc.). I didn’t find any of them to be particularly satisfying as role models. Even my favorite actor of my own generation, John Cusack, played and still tends to play men who are afflicted with self-doubt and ambivalence. What I wanted in my screen heroes was something I realize I rarely, if ever saw — sensitivity mixed with certainty, responsibility mixed with spontaneity, deep masculinity linked with gentleness. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve always thought French actors do a better job “role-modeling” that than American ones. I’ve seen everything Daniel Auteil and Jean Reno have done; more than any others, they are the ones who make me say “Yes, that’s how to be a man.”

I rent and re-rent the latter’s “The Professional” and the former’s “The Widow of St. Pierre” (my favorite film of the past half-decade.) Just like in countless American films, these actors play heroic figures who die in the end — but by God, the French die differently!