Archive for October, 2005

Reflecting on Dr. Adams

Hugo’s Halloween snark, inspired by too much chocolate:

Both Amanda and Lauren have been taking on the anti-feminist rantings of Dr. Mike Adams, a criminology professor at North Carolina Wilmington and a regular columnist at Townhall.com.

Last Friday, Adams launched this diatribe against next month’s Orgasm Awareness Festival at the Chapel Hill campus of UNC. He wrote:

Jessica Polka, an executive board member for the co-sponsor of the event, was recently quoted as saying that “We also have the goal of trying to work toward fighting the social stigma against female sexuality.” In other words, she wants college women to become whores without being ostracized.  (Emphasis mine)

When feminist students on his own campus complained about the sentence I’ve highlighted, Adams responded with this letter on the Townhall site.   Read it all,it won’t take long.

I have to say, I’m inspired by Mike Adams.  He’s got a nationally syndicated column, despite the fact that he’s got essentially only one note to play: tired rantings and ravings about the misdeeds of the so-called radical left on college campuses.  His pieces aren’t particularly well written; his tone is one of unremitting sarcasm of the sort that tends to be of particular appeal to clever — but not brilliant — boys in the later stages of adolescence.  He has a particular interest in going after feminist organizations, and, essentially, calling women — including students on his own campus — who bravely claim the right to pleasure "whores."

I note that his website is entitled "Dr. Adams.org."  Gosh, do you think I’d get more hits if I called my site "Dr.Schwyzer.org"?  Lord, save us from colleagues so insecure about their professional credentials that they must use the title "doctor" on their bloody websites!  I wonder if he’s the dreadful sort of man who hangs his diplomas in his office where they can stare down aggressively at his students?   I’ve got my doctorate, thanks.  And no one ever calls me "Dr. Schwyzer" to my face twice.  (I’ve explained my reasons here.)  Call it reverse snobbery if you will, but I loathe titles, and I loathe colleagues who display diplomas on the wall.  It’ s the academic equivalent of "excessive celebration" after a touchdown in college football, and if I could, I’d throw a little yellow penalty flag at the offenders.  My diplomas (high school, B.A., M.A., C.Phil, Ph.D) are at home, in a box somewhere.  That’s where they’ll stay.

(The good doctor also has a paypal account, so that his loyal fans can send him money.  Tell me, folks, should I ask for donations?  Run ads on my blog?  Trust me, the only donation any of you will ever be asked to make is to the Matilde Mission.)

Anyhow, I find his politics execrable.   But perhaps I’m just jealous.  After all, here’s a tenured white male with short hair and glasses who is building a national name for himself by writing about topics far beyond his own field of expertise.  Mike Adams?   Excuse me, Dr. Adams, sir?  You’re my new role model.

Election endorsements

It’s Hallowe’en, and my one nod to the occasion is a bright orange t-shirt.  Perfect for teaching.

This may be boring for out-of state readers.  Or in-state readers.

I voted early in the California Special Election (via Los Angeles County’s "touchscreen" program).  Here, for what it’s worth, are my endorsements.  More information about these propositions ca be found here.

Proposition 73 (Parental Notification Initiative):  No.  (I blogged my reasons here).

Proposition 74 (Increased wait for teacher tenure): No.  (It only affects K-12, not community colleges, but I’m going with my union and the League of Women Voters on this one).

Proposition 75 (So-called "paycheck protection"): No.  (A thinly disguised attempt to make corporate money the only "big money" in Sacramento; an easy "no" for me.  Of course, if it passes, I will still voluntarily contribute to the teacher’s union political campaign arm.)

Proposition 76: No, No, No.(This one scares me more than any of the others, frankly.)

Proposition 77:  No Endorsement.   This is the redistricting initiative.  I voted "no", but it was a close call — I hate our current system of gerrymandered districts that guarantee no competitive races.

Proposition 78:  No.

Proposition 79: No.

Proposition 80:  Yes.

For the most part, I’m not only voting with my union, but with the non-partisan League of Women Voters.

Do any of my readers live in Arcadia?  If you do, here’s a surprise endorsement: Brandon Powers for Pasadena Area Community College District Board.  Here, I’m bucking my union (which has endorsed his opponent, a long-time incumbent.)   I’m also crossing party lines: Brandon is a Republican, a former aide to conservative State Senator Tom McClintock, and the chair of the California chapter of Young Americans for Freedom.  He’s the first Republican (and perhaps the last) to whose campaign I have given money.

Brandon is also a good friend, and of course, a former student.  Yes, it’s true that I have a penchant for placing personalities before politics.   But I’m not merely endorsing Brandon, and contributing money to him , because he’s a pal.   He’s a remarkably bright, genuinely thoughtful young man with some intriguing ideas for improving the college.  I suspect we’ll be hearing from Brandon in the future, regardless of what happens with the board race next Tuesday. 

No more silent “good guys”: some thoughts about North Country

Last night, my wife and I were finally able to see North Country, the new Charlize Theron film about sexual harassment in the Minnesota iron mines.  I’ve been eager to see it since I was first asked to be part of the Stand Up online community organized by the film’s producers, Participant Productions.

What struck me most about the film was the pivotal role that seemingly good men play in allowing sexual harassment to flourish.  The iron mine in which Theron’s character works has a long-standing culture of hostility and resentment towards women, often expressed in brutal and degrading ways.  But not all of the men in the mine are flagrant harassers.  Others are simply witnesses, even with flashes of sympathy for their female co-workers.  They do not participate in the abuse, but they are unwilling (at least until the end of the film) to confront the harassers.    What allows the harassment to flourish in the film — and in so many settings in real life — is not only the complicity of management, but the silence of the "good guys". 

I’ve worked with young  - and not so young — men around issues of sexual violence, date rape, and harassment for quite a few years now.  I often get the same line:  "I don’t need a training program.  I’m a good guy!  I don’t harass women; I know that "no" means "no".  In the workplace, in college fraternities, any one who does sexual harassment prevention work will run into many a "good guy" who will vehemently insist that only a small minority of men are real threats to women.  In a very literal sense, they "good guys" may be right.  But the goal of sexual harassment prevention is not only to target the harassers or potential rapists! The goal is to reach the "silent majority" of "good guys" who are too afraid to challenge the harassers and the culture that encourages them.

The pre-eminent scholar of masculinity, Michael Kimmel, points out that American men live their lives in a heavily homosocial culture.  We are raised to seek the approval of other men on the athletic field, in the workplace, in the bar.  Homosociality means that most men are more likely to risk disappointing women rather than their "brothers."  And of all of the rules of male homosocial culture, one stands above all others: the importance of silence.  Men are raised not to call each other on their treatment of women, no matter how offensive or abusive it may be.  To speak out, to "stand up", is to risk being thrown out of the brotherhood.  (Brotherhood is an important subtext in the film.)    To stand up against sexual harassment is to risk ostracism from a community of men whose acceptance is vital to most men’s self-concept.

The key goal of sexual harassment prevention, at least as I’ve been involved with it, is never just about reaching potential harassers. It’s about creating a climate where men feel emboldened to challenge each other.  It’s about identifying the "alpha males" (not always the bosses or the presidents, just the guys with the highest degree of homosocial credibility) in the office, the fraternity, the factory, and getting them to "buy in" to the idea that men can and should hold each other accountable for how they treat the women with whom they share public and private space.  Effective sexual harassment prevention is about reaching young men, and empowering them to speak up when they see other boys or men engaging in abusive behavior.  Above all, effective harassment prevention is about undermining a culture of silence that allows so many men to imagine that they are "good guys", even as they are complicit in the abuse and mistreatment of their coworkers, sisters, daughters, and female friends.

Let me be honest:  in my work, I’ve found that nothing is more difficult than getting men to hold each other accountable for how they treat women.   And yet, I’ve seen many guys start to do just that.  The key, as always, is offering them role models whose masculinity is unimpeachable, but whose commitment to standing up against a culture that encourages harassment is unquestionable.

I’ve got no qualms about using the language and rhetoric of masculine culture to try and undermine the conspiracy of silence.  Though some of my feminist allies cringe when I use the phrase "real men", I’ve found that the most successful way to reach guys is to make use of familiar concepts and ideals.   My friends as Men Can Stop Rape have been doing this for years with their "men of strength" campaign which offers an alternative vision of what it means to be a powerful, authentically masculine man.

Above all else, the vital message of North Country is one of individual responsibility.   Stopping harassment and abuse is about making every one of us, especially men, aware that remaining silent in the face of the mistreatment of women makes one a co-conspirator.  Real men stand up.

Cross-country and the desire to change

Many comments  below yesterday’s post have been thoughtful and provocative, but I want to pull out one to which to respond.  Anthony wrote:

The fundamental (and fundamentally correct) conservative insight is that human nature is not particularly malleable, which makes pretty much any social change which requires a "change of heart" impossible to enact or sustain without some sort of agency outside the individual enforcing conformity with the change.

Men (in general) will always feel lust, and will always be drawn to look at attractive women dressed revealingly. And some of those men will look in disrespectful ways, or act disrespectfully, unless there is a strong social or legal constraint against doing so…

Appealing to men’s "better nature" isn’t going to create change, unless you can show men that they will be better off, or if you can create a sanction which men will care about. Being hectored by feminists is not a sanction which will deter most men.

Well, here’s where Christian conservatives — particularly folks with a Pentecostal bent — and secular conservatives disagree.  The whole promise of the Gospel is that through conversion, men and women DO become new creations.   What else does being "born again" mean but a complete transformation of our nature?  And nowhere in Scripture does it suggest that those of us who are "new creations" need to rely on the power of the state to keep us mindful of our conversion promises.  Indeed, a moral vision that is reinforced by state sanction is the enemy of true morality.  True conversion is first and foremost a personal inner experience, and second of all an ongoing process of transformation that is supported and encouraged by one’s spiritual community.  But it can’t be the job of the state to remove temptation from the path of the believer!

But of course, though I do find that pro-feminist principles work best in church settings where a common language of faith can be used, I also think we can challenge young men to change even outside of a religious context.   So rather than make a philosophical point, let me share an anecdote.

Two of my good friends coach the boys’ cross-country team at a local high school.  I’ve joined my friends and their charges for long trail runs and speed workouts many times in recent years.  I never was on a sports team myself in high school; I only became serious about working out in my mid-twenties.  Still, I’ve had ample opportunity to watch my friends do the rewarding work of helping couch potatoes transform into proud, sleek, fast distance athletes.   Every summer, the new boys come out for cross-country (practices start in July).   As most of us know, kids who choose cross-country are often there by default — they simply lack the skills or the size to play the more popular sports.  I say this as one who loves distance running, of course.  And by the time they gain experience, many young men will say that they love cross-country more than anything else.  But usually, when they first join the team, they do so with a kind of reluctant resignation.

I’ve gone out with the boys and their coaches on some of those July runs.  The younger boys — the incoming frosh and sophomores — are usually gasping after two miles.  I’ve seen some fight back tears of frustration.  The tentative willingness to try is there, but the lungs and the legs are not yet ready.  Many think about quitting after the first day.   It seems too much work, too much pain.  Why get up so early?   Why do something so counter-intuitive as run hard, when your mind screams "stop!?

My friends love coaching these sorts of boys.  Yes, they like getting the kids who’ve been running since they’ve been walking, the boys who have always liked running, the ones with the talent to win the league and "go to state."  But those boys are few and far between, and rarely are they the most satisfying to coach.  Coaching is about creating the desire to transform one’s nature. It is about inspiring young men to overcome the natural instinct to rest, to take it easy, to sleep late.  Before you can teach young men how to be better runners, you have to inspire them to want to run.

I watch my friends spend hours with each of the boys on the team.  They meet with each lad, going over his training schedule and making sure he’s not trying to take on too much too soon.  They talk diet and sleep patterns.  But they also, always, always, talk about family, school, girls, boys.  And because my friends take seriously their task to help boys become kind, loving, courageous young men, they do a fair amount of "life coaching" as well.   Though neither of my buddies would call themselves "pro-feminists", their ideological principles and personal behavior reflect a profound commitment to justice and equality.  They coach because they love running and they want to spread the gospel of the sport, but also because they see this most democratic and least violent of sports as a vehicle for the emotional growth of young men.   (My hero, in this regard, is the much-celebrated Maryland football coach, Joe Ehrmann.)

Any boy who sees, as a result of his own efforts and those of his coaches, his mile time drop from over seven minutes to under five — an astonishing progression I’ve seen more than once — can begin to believe that as with his body, so too with his mind and his nature.  My experience with God taught me that the Holy Spirit can change a man utterly; my experience with my friends and their cross-country team taught me that even in a secular context, young men can be given the tools to transform both their bodies and their very souls.   

Anthony is right to suggest that change for men will only happen when they see change as in their best interests; he’s correct that we need rewards to make change endure.  Though I suppose I do a good bit of "hectoring" here on the blog, it’s not how I interact with real life, flesh-and-blood teenage boys.   To the best of my ability, with God’s help, I’m committed to imbuing my students and my youth group boys with the desire to change and the tools to do so. (And though I have little time to spare, I’m thinking seriously about listening to the entreaties of my buddies and going into cross-country coaching.  A great opportunity to do two things I love at once:  mentor boys and run.)

Seeing women as radical equals, worthy of respect, is something that can be taught. It can’t be taught through a lecture, at least not very effectively.  It must be taught through example, and through patient relationship.  It will not be taught in the classroom, but it can be taught on long runs and church retreats.  And in the right context, the desire to be something different, the desire to think differently about men, women, and human dignity, can be created and sustained.  I’ve seen it, and frankly, I’m devoting my public and private life to it.

Somehow, I feel I’ve been saying the same thing over and over a lot lately.  Maybe I need a change of subject.

High School Music Memories

I’ll have a serious post tomorrow, and I do appreciate all the comments below this morning’s post about "looking", but I just thought I’d report that in honor of my twenty-year reunion this past weekend, I’ve been downloading songs that meant a lot to me in my high school.  A couple of these I already had, but behold Hugo’s Reunion Top Ten, and shudder, shudder at my taste.

1.  "Cum On Feel the Noize", Quiet Riot (Itunes only has the inferior 1999 version)
2.  "Tuesday’s Gone", Lynyrd Skynyrd (Believe me ’twas a big slow song at our high school dances)
3. "Holy Diver", Dio  (Oh, that intro!)
4.  "The Zoo", Scorpions  (My favorite song of theirs… and I had ALL their pre-1985 recordings)
5. "Crazy Train", Ozzy (Guess who cried when Randy Rhoades died in that 1982 plane crash?)
6.  "Tom Sawyer", Rush (Oh, to admit one liked Rush…  painful.)
7.  "Paradise By The Dashboard Light", Meatloaf (Now, that’s still a great song)
8. "In the Dark", Billy Squier (Oh, I owned a couple of his cassettes.  Wince.)
9. "Shout at the Devil", Motley Crue.  (Off the only album of theirs I really liked.)
10. "Foolin", Def Leppard

Hard to see the makings of a bluegrass lovin’ Christian pro-feminist.

“No right not to be looked at”: Reflections on lust and male responsibility

I’m a bit sleepy, here in my office early on a Thursday morning.  I had a pre-dawn breakfast with my friend Steve, and the three cups of coffee I consumed are helping me to join the living.  I’ve got three lectures today: a discussion, based on this book by Lynn Phillips,  of the competing "love hurts" and "love conquers all" discourses in my women’s studies class at 8:50AM; a lecture on Alexander the Great and the Hellenistic Age at 10:25; and Napoleon’s Russian campaign and eventual downfall at 1:00PM.  And I still have many, many midterms to grade.

I’ve been reading through the 90+ comments below Monday’s post on Tough Bunnies.  The thread moved on to issues of dress and the visual nature of men’s sexuality, and a couple of comments caught my attention.

Gonzman writes: There is no right not to be looked at - or a right not to be ignored. There is no right not to be admired - or a right not to inspire repulsion.

Well, he’s right.  But I’m not nearly as concerned with "rights" as I am with ethics and responsibility.  Many of the men and women commenting in the thread raise the point that women send signals to men with the way that they dress; some (particularly the MRAs) point out that women ought not to be surprised by the fact that men will make certain judgments about them based upon their clothing choices.

But while there is no right not to be looked at, I’m not sure that means that it is always right to look!   I’ve made it very clear that as a man doing pro-feminist work, my primary concern is on helping men to transform their thinking and their behavior.  This does not mean that I think that women are blameless victims, misunderstood angels, exploited and helpless little girls.  I’m perfectly aware that many women do use their sexuality quite consciously, often with an intense desire for attention and validation.  I’ve written about women and clothing before, and invite readers who have not done so to check out my post on the subject "Sisterhood is Easier in Winter."  I do not absolve all girls and women from responsibility, not by any means.

But because my concern is with boys and men, I’m adamant about insisting that the counterpart of "there is no right not to be looked at" must be "it is not always right to look."   I’m tired of the right-wing rhetoric in praise of female modesty and conservative dress, not because I am an enemy of modesty but because I loathe the perpetuating of the myth of male weakness that undergirds the discussion!   As a man, particularly as a pro-feminist Christian man of faith, I reject the implication that I am visually helpless before a bare midriff or a miniskirt.  The assumption that if girls and women wear revealing clothes, they deserve the penetrating gazes they receive is rooted in a notion that male sexuality is simply too powerful a force to be subject to self-discipline.   Modesty theory assumes male vulnerability and fragility, and thus makes women into their brothers’ keepers, protecting us from ourselves by dressing demurely.

But while modest dress is perhaps desirable, Scripture is very clear that male lust is something men must be expected to control.  I argue that we men are called, like Job, to make a covenant with our eyes not to "look lustfully" at girls and women.  That responsibility to avert our gaze is not abrogated when a woman wears revealing clothing.  Our responsibility to avert our gaze is not contingent upon whether or not the woman in question wants to be looked at; the responsibility not to objectify is ours regardless of whether or not we are being invited to gaze and lust.

I realize I’m taking an unpopular position.  Secular feminists are usually uncomfortable with my hostility to lust.  Mythago suggests that I’m taking the position that "lust is some kind of evil cancer whose mere touch destroys any aesthetic or intellectual value a thing may have."   I’ll admit that I do take Matthew 5:27-28 very seriously. I don’t think we can lust for someone without consequences for ourselves and for those around us.  Lust is never truly idle, I believe — it is the desire to appropriate, if only in fantasy, something for ourselves that is not ours to have.  Lust is distinct from sexual desire for one’s partner or spouse, precisely because with one’s partner, that desire is a reflection of a commitment that already exists.   Though we are all prone to lust as part of our human nature, that does not mean that we cannot, through effort and prayer and mutual support, channel our visual sexuality entirely towards our primary relationship.  I believe it can be accomplished without shame and guilt.

Of course, I lose most right-wing social conservatives by suggesting that the primary onus ought to lie with the one who is lusting, not with the one who is the object of lust.  While I am not encouraging immodest dress, ultimately the struggle against objectification can’t hinge on what other folks are wearing.  To put it in economic terms, I’m not interested in cutting off the supply of visually stimulating bodies and images, I’m interested only in addressing the demand.  I’m anti-porn, as my readers know — but I have no interest in lifting a finger towards the goal of getting laws passed to ban porn.  My hatred of porn rests comfortably with my zealous belief that porn is protected by the First Amendment.   And while I don’t think that low-riding jeans with high-riding thongs is a particularly enlightened fashion choice, I’m not interested in expending any energy railing against contemporary dress.   To paraphrase Paul, all things ought to be legal, but that doesn’t give us the right to do them: "Everything is permissible for me"—but I will not be mastered by anything.  Whether the woman in front of me is in a thong or a burka, what I do with my eyes and my thoughts is all on me, 100%.

Look, I’m aware that women and girls lust too.  I’m not suggesting that we can create a society where none of us ever gazes at another person with a fleeting sensation of desire.  But lust is about more than passing desire, lust is a conscious choice to not only look for a moment, but to continue to look. It’s the difference between an "appreciative glance" and a "penetrating gaze."  I don’t think it’s a tortuous and artificial distinction, either. I think it’s straightforward and practical, and with discipline, easily applied.  And let me be clear that my goal is not to create a de-sexualized, guilt-ridden society!  My goal is a world where men and boys, women and girls, interact with each other as loving members of the human community, with a sense of responsibility for each other and a commitment to love and protect each other. I want a world where young women can feel validated and seen, not because of their physical desirability but because of their essential worth as human beings.

So I’m sure I’ve alienated secular feminists with my hostility to lust, MRAs with my insistence that men hold themselves accountable, and social conservatives with my conviction that overcoming lust is only about addressing demand, and not at all about supply.

Anyone I haven’t annoyed?

Thursday Short Poem: Rich’s “Since We’re Not Young”

This is an Adrienne Rich classic, an untitled short piece from her "Twenty-One Love Poems".  I love the last five lines.  Credit to my student Annie, who reminded me of it this week.

Since We’re Not Young

Since we’re not young, weeks have to do time
for years of missing each other. Yet only this odd warp
in time tells me we’re not young.
Did I ever walk the morning streets at twenty,
my limbs streaming with a purer joy?
did I lean from any window over the city
listening for the future

as I listened here with nerves tuned for your ring?
And you, you move toward me with the same tempo.
Your eyes are everlasting, the green spark
of the blue-eyed grass of early summer,
the green-blue wild cress washed by the spring
At twenty, yes: we thought we’d live forever.
At forty-five, I want to know even our limits.
I touch you knowing we weren’t born tomorrow,
and somehow, each of us will help the other live,
and somewhere, each of us must help the other die.

That’s very fine.

“Don’t Look”: Rethinking Ways of Seeing

Typepad is still having problems.

I’ve been reflecting on the simple words "Don’t look."

Not long ago, I was walking through Old Town Pasadena with a group of my Wednesday night All Saints teens.  We passed two homeless men slumped against a wall.  Neither was aggressively panhandling, though they did have a cap upside down on sidewalk in front of them with some small change inside.  As we approached, I heard one of my girls say to her friend "Don’t look, those guys are really disgusting."  They quickened their pace and dropped their heads and hurried on.   Since we were out on a small, informal, but nonetheless "church-approved" outing, I should have spoken up right away.  I didn’t, however, and that was my mistake.

Our selfish instincts tell us that there are many things from which we ought to avert our gaze.   Homeless people, for one.  Dead animals by the side of the road.  The sick, the needy, the unattractive.  From the time most of us are children, we’re taught that it’s okay, even appropriate, to turn away from the reality of human and animal suffering.  Most of us don’t want to see what the cow goes through in order to become our burger.  Most don’t want to see how my beloved chinchillas die to become coats.  We don’t want to see the weeping parents in Pakistan, the desperate and starving children in Niger.  These images will upset us, discomfit us, challenge us — and we don’t like that.

My mother regularly gives to a wide variety of charities.  She’s long been a steady contributor to Amnesty International and other human rights agencies.  But she hates seeing the terrible pictures often enclosed in their mailings to her, pictures of human beings who have been horribly mistreated as prisoners of conscience.  She often says, jokingly, "I’d give them more money if they’d stop sending me those awful photos!"  She wants to give, but she doesn’t want to see.  I understand; my wife and I get an extraordinary number of solicitations from animal rights organizations, usually filled with images of abused and malnourished dogs, horses, seals, and other creatures.  And I have a hard time looking at all that suffering.

At the same time that we are told not to look at the reality of human and animal pain, we are encouraged to look at images that degrade and exploit the human person.  We do live in an increasingly porn-saturated culture, a point that commenters across the political spectrum have made with growing concern.  It matters little whether we’re talking about the demure Playmate in Hefner’s monthly, or the raunchy images found on a "bukkake fetish" website, we live in a society that is increasingly tolerant, even enthusiastic, about looking at the exposed bodies of (mostly) young and economically vulnerable women.  What our forebears couldn’t look at (because porn, while very much extant, was not nearly as available) or wouldn’t look at (out of a sense, however incomplete, of religious morality), we gaze at and consume with an ever-increasing degree of comfort and nonchalance.

And as with pornography, so, of course, with violence.  In television, film, and increasingly in interactive video games, young people seem to have no problem viewing an extrarordinary number of killings.  The same folks who can’t stomach watching a cow slaughtered for food have no problem playing Grand Theft Auto, or sitting through "Saw" and similar bloody epics at the cineplex.  Looking at faked violence, like looking at the artificial and falsified sex in most pornography, is much easier than gazing at real suffering, particularly when encountering real suffering and real exploitation might make a moral claim on us to take action.

So I’ve come to a conclusion about my spiritual journey.   God is calling me to see, and respond to, the very things that those around me tell me I ought not to look at.   God is calling me to look at the homeless man on the street, look him in the eye, and whether I can give him the help he needs or not, at the very least acknowledge him as my brother.  I am called to look at how the food I eat is prepared, and not turn away my gaze from the reality of the slaughterhouse.   Reminding myself of the smell and the sight of slaughter helps keep me away from meat when I’m tempted, let me tell you!  I must look at the images of suffering in Pakistan, Iraq, Louisiana, and Darfur, even though looking makes me uncomfortable.  Whenever humanly possible, I must respond to what I see with compassionate action.  But if I can do nothing, even then I still must look; in the end, the last thing we can do is, if nothing else, serve as witnesses to the reality of the suffering of our fellow creatures.  At the very least, we won’t be ignoring their pain.

And just as I am called to look at what I don’t want to see, I am called to turn away from what I do want very much to look at!  Over and over again, many times a day, I find myself challenged to avert my eyes.  Each day, I make the conscious choice not to look at porn.   Each day, I make the conscious choice not to objectify those whose bodies are a click or two away from being on display on my computer screen.  Each day, I remind myself that my eyes are tools to help me see the reality of God’s creation.   My eyes are here to help me see those whom I am called to serve, and to see those who I am called to love.  They are here to make me more compassionate.  Visual porn in any form may please me, but it also inoculates me against the reality of the personhood of the woman at whose body I am gazing.  It distracts me from where it is I ought to be directing my sexual energy.  And it makes me a little more selfish, a little colder, and a little less human.

Jesus often is fond of turning conventional wisdom on its head.  He’ll often begin a talk by saying "You have heard… but I say to you…"  What I hear Jesus saying to me at this stage of my journey is that I need to see the very things my friends and family and culture tell me I ought not to look at.   And I need to turn my eyes away from the very things that my society encourages me to delight in gazing upon.

Apologies for bad service, and three morning notes

First off, I know it has been difficult for some of you to access this blog.  Typepad, my host, has had a very rough week.  Commenting has been very difficult for many — but we are told, deo volente, that the problems have been solved.  Thank you for your patience.

First off, Caitriona, one of my most regular and favorite commenters, has a request for help.  No, it’s not as much about money as it is about ideas — check out this post and offer thoughtful suggestions.  Prayer for the success of her ministry is also an excellent idea!

I note that Sheryl Swoopes, one of the the two or three best female basketball players of all time, and an athlete whom I’ve followed since her Texas Tech days, has come out of the closet.  She instantly becomes the highest profile professional athlete in a team sport to come out while still playing.  It’s a brave move for the woman who was the first female athlete to have a Nike shoe named for her, the "Air Swoopes."  May she encourage others with her example.

And no one likes to send "grist for my mill" more than Jonathan Dresner, my fellow Cliopatriarch.  He emailed me a link to a post from the HU Islam blog, a community for progressive Muslim women. It’s entitled "A Female Perspective on the Modern Muslim Man", and though it’s not well-formatted, it’s a powerful and entertaining piece.  Written by a "Fatima J.", the post begins:

It seems to me that there are a lot of books and articles circulating around our Muslim communities that contain advice for Muslim women. Nearly all of these books are penned by male authors who explain to women how to be a proper Muslim wife, an ideal Muslim woman, what a woman’s place is according to Shari’ah, and so forth… find it very interesting how so many Muslim male authors have so much to say about their understanding of the role of Muslim women. I thought it would be interesting to turn the tables a bit and ponder the issue of what makes a good modern Muslim man and husband from a female perspective, specifically in the eyes of a progressive minded, modern Muslim woman.

I read the rest of her piece through the eyes of a pro-feminist Christian, and one who has only a rudimentary familiarity with Islamic teaching.  But Jonathan did a service when he sent it my way, because by the end of her essay, I found myself cheering Fatima on.  More to the point, the model of modern Islamic manhood she espouses fits nearly perfectly with the sort of pro-feminist Christian ideal I’ve been working on.

Fatima suggests that the modern Muslim man will be, like his fathers, a devout believer.  But he will be able, she writes, to distinguish true Islam from the outdated, indefensible cultural mores that too many have confused with the true faith of Muhammed:

What distinguishes the “modern” Muslim man from a good and religious man of any time period is that he is abreast of the issues of today. He is not influenced by cultural mores that are contrary to Islam like the old-fashioned man is. Also, he does not accept puritanical and/or patriarchal ideas about the inferiority of women or the limitation of their roles and contributions to society.
A modern Muslim man does not have a speck of doubt in his mind about the equality of women and men. He knows that males and females are equally valuable members of society. He knows that both sexes have the same religious duties and are judged equally before Allah. He also recognizes that while many women are physically unequal to most men in terms of size and strength, and that each sex may have other slight characteristic differences, intellectually, men and women have the same potential abilities.

Preach it, sister Fatima!  (Of course, I never like hearing we shouldn’t have a "speck of doubt."  Faith and feminism, for me, often involve doing the right thing despite my doubts, which is a very different thing from being without doubts altogether!)

Fatima moves on:

The old-style Muslim men are mother-lovers. They acknowledge that paradise lies at the feet of mothers, and that a child’s first duty is to his/her mother, three times more than even to the father, as per the ahaadith.. The problem with being a mother-lover is that certain men feel that good women express true love by a mother-like coddling of their husbands. A mother selflessly serves her children and caters to their every need. The old-fashioned man feels that all women, especially his wife, should be equally self-sacrificing, and display her love by subservience and deference. She should not eat until he has eaten, prepare a cup of tea for him when he enters the house, prepare foods to suit his preferences and tastes, serve his plate personally by hand at meal times, iron his clothes, fetch items for him, tidy up after him, and perform every other duty that a mother would lovingly do for her child. What the old-fashioned man fails to see is that mothers do these things for their offspring because children are helpless and are unable to perform these duties by themselves. Also, just because a mother shows love by doing these things for her children, this display of self-sacrifice and servitude is not the appropriate way for a wife to display love to her husband. Modern, enlightened men should hold their own mothers in the highest possible esteem, but they should not expect their wives to continue to coddle and suckle them as their mothers did. They should know that they are loved when they are in an open and trusting relationship, with good communication, mutual respect, and understanding as a foundation. These are the qualities of marriage expressed in the Quran.

Hurrah!  If there’s one key belief that pro-feminist men men and the mytho-poetic men’s movement share with the likes of Fatima, it’s the conviction that far too many men have tremendous difficulty distinguishing between their wives and their mothers.  While Western men may not be as likely to demand that a wife wait until he has eaten before she eats, far too many do expect their wives to to nurture them like small children.  It’s a difficult struggle for many, many guys not to slip back into child-like behavior, demanding mothering behavior from their wives and girlfriends.

And when it comes to sexual morality, Fatima demands — as authentic Christians always do — total congruence between the standards for men and for women:

A modern Muslim man lowers his gaze and protects himself from the lascivious and haraam influences that are flaunted as part of today’s so-called liberated society. Such activities include watching lewd performances of music and dance, watching entertainment media that depict sexual and violent scenes or debase women by showing them dressed in objectionable clothing, or listening to music with overtly sexual and vulgar lyrics. The backwards Muslim man enjoys these things himself but forbids his wife and female children from engaging in them.

A modern Muslim man protects his chastity before and after marriage. The old fashioned Muslim man believes that chastity and modesty are more important virtues for females than for males. That a man’s honor lives within his female family members’ bodies is an idea that is completely contrary to what the Quran tells us. It is ignorant to think that young men can play and experiment with their sexuality, or that it is only natural for men to have extra-marital affairs, while girls and women who do so should be scorned and even corporally punished. Such ideas come from being culturally rather than Islamically socialized. In the Quran, Allah puts the same requirements on females as on males in terms of guarding oneself from unchaste behavior. To think otherwise is purely based on cultural notions of sexual propriety and in direct conflict with Islamic belief. The modern Muslim man will uphold high standards for his own chastity, and encourage both his male and female children to do so.

Though I might quibble with Fatima’s interpretation of chastity, I’m heartened by her insistence that men hold themselves and each other to the same high standard to which women have traditionally been held.    Modernity, in the minds of some secular folks, often is about inviting women to begin to behave with the same degree of sexual freedom that men have traditionally enjoyed.  Fatima suggests the opposite — modernity is about men holding themselves to the same standard to which they have previously only held their wives and daughters.

Do read her whole post.

Quick note about nepotism

First off, I’ve posted a few pics from this past weekend’s reunion.

I’m about to get myself in trouble again.   As regular readers know, I helped develop PCC’s consensual relationships policy last year.  (See here.)  Now, I’ve been asked by the Academic Senate to chair a related committee looking into revamping the college’s "nepotism" policy.  The problem is that some of my colleagues don’t want to prohibit what I consider to be one of the most flagrant examples of nepotism: having one’s own children enrolled in one’s classes, and grading their work.

I’ve been adamant about the issue of consensual amorous relationships.  I don’t think it’s possible for a professor to evaluate fairly the work of his or her spouse or lover.   Even if it were possible (and I don’t think it is), the simple perception of wrongdoing that would arise in the minds of the other students is reason enough to consider such relationships between teachers and current students to be inadvisable and unethical.  In the years we spent developing the policy (between 2001-2004), my colleagues and I encountered some opposition to the idea of banning faculty-current student romantic and sexual relationships, but most folks on campus seemed supportive.

But here at the community college, I can think of several examples — from within my own department — of young people enrolled in a parent’s course.  One of my colleagues has taught three of her four children in recent years.  This problem is much more common at a community college than it might be at a four-year school, where many students are living away from home.  At PCC, a large percentage of our students still live with Mom or Dad, and in more than a few instances, are being taught by Mom or Dad.

I’ve been making the argument for years that teaching and evaluating one’s children is analogous to teaching and grading one’s lovers.  I see no reason to believe that you can be fairer to your child than to your sexual partner.  What’s more, while it is at least theoretically possible to keep one’s romantic affairs a secret, it’s utterly impossible to disguise the fact that one student is your son or daughter!  And again, there’s the issue of perception: it doesn’t ultimately matter whether or not you can separate family loyalties from the quality of a student’s work; what matters is whether or not other students perceive a bias.

I’ve been candid about my own reasons for getting involved in developing a consensual relationships policy.  I’ve admitted past wrongdoing in this area, and I’ve made amends.  But a few of my colleagues are vigorously defending the idea that while it may be unethical to teach a lover, it is perfectly acceptable to assign grades to one’s own children.  I am dumbfounded, failing to understand the reasoning that suggests that there is ultimately anything less offensive about having one’s child in class than having one’s sexual partner.  In informal discussions with other colleagues, I have found that the majority take my side and support the idea of a ban on PCC faculty members teaching and evaluating the work of their own children.  Such a ban, like the consensual relationships policy, would not involve any retroactive discipline for those who had taught their kids in the past.  But it would draw a clear and bright line for the future.

I’m curious to know what my readers think.   Do you agree with me that teaching one’s kids is as unethical and problematic, both in terms of evaluation and perception, as teaching one’s sexual and romantic partners?  If not, why not?  Am I missing something here, perhaps because I am not yet a parent?  In the meantime, while I await your responses, I’m going to work hard to make sure that the nepotism policy comes down as firmly as possible against the practice of profs teaching and grading their own children.

A note on Tough Bunnies and Feminism

Jessica at Feministing posts about this Washington Post article: Tough Bunnies.  Apparently, the language used to describe Playboy centerfolds has changed in recent years, or so claim James Beggan and Scott Allison in a recent issue of the Journal of Popular Culture (not available online). Jessica quotes from the Post:

Beggan and Allison…found a pattern to the way that Playboy’s wordsmiths described the women who graced the magazine’s centerfold. They were typically strong, career-oriented, aggressive and, in a surprising number of instances, downright "tough." Adjectives suggesting vulnerability, submissiveness or passivity appeared less frequently.

Jessica summarizes her reaction:

OK, but is the text describing the Playboy models really what men are paying attention to? If a woman is posed in a vulnerable an submissive position in her picture, I think that’s going to trump any “aggressive” text descriptions.  (Bold in the original).

I’ve never been a fan of Playboy, though Lord knows, I’ve given many a lecture on the magazine.  I’ll assume that Beggan and Allison are right, and that in recent years Playboy has begun to use new and more "empowered" language to describe the Playmates.  But it’s hardly news that pornographers have appropriated feminist language, of course.   The question is, why are they doing it?

Presenting an image of Playmates as tough, independent,and ambitious serves several purposes.  For one, it can be part of (feeble) attempt to suggest that feminists should be untroubled by Playboy, as it’s clearly possible for the educated, the articulate, and the powerful to pose.  The tougher the models are made out to be, the more difficult (presumably) for those of us who loathe Playboy to argue effectively that the magazine exploits the young and the vulnerable.

More importantly, I think, it is a very subtle and very clever way of co-opting male anger at the feminist movement.   It’s no secret that there are a heck of a lot of guys in this country who are befuddled by what they see as rapidly changing gender norms.  Many of them (see the MRAs who troll here) are enraged at the modest success that the feminist movement has had in integrating women into business, politics, academia, and the traditional male trades.    When I talk to many guys about gender issues, I find a troubling undercurrent of deep anger at women and the feminist movement that is extraordinarily strong.  And of course, that rage is directed not at the vulnerable and powerless, but at the women whom these guys perceive to be the source of the problem: the ambitious, the career-oriented, the "tough" gals who have muscled their way into traditional male-only areas of public and private life.

But as Jessica suggests, stripping the Playmates naked and having them recline submissively niftily and deliberately undercuts the very power that the text trumpets to the "reader." Men who are angry at beautiful women for not allowing them access to their bodies, and men who are angry at powerful women for their successes, can gain a kind of revenge by seeing the beautiful and the powerful stripped, exposed,and prone for their enjoyment.  For most men, that’s the payoff of porn — the opportunity to reclaim power over women by focusing on them as submissive, pleasing bodies rather than autonomous human beings.  Playboy always suggests that the Playmate is just like the "girl next door" whom young (and not so young) men fantasize about.   Today, the "girl next door" may make more money than you, Playboy says, but underneath her clothes, she’s still an object for you to lust after and (if only in your dreams) control and bend to your will.

One of the most tired and misogynistic narratives in heterosexual porn is of the seemingly uptight, powerful "career woman" who initially rejects the protagonist.  When he takes her by force, her powerful veneer is literally stripped away, and she ends up revealed as a sexually insatiable submissive who just needed "a good hard fuck" to find her true femininity.    Playboy doesn’t explicitly include the rape narrative, but by stripping the apparently powerful and professional, they cleverly play on the dark male fantasy of "getting even" with those "uppity women" who in the modern world seem to be increasingly overstepping their bounds.

Yuck.

Reunion review: a note on memory, myopia, and grace

I’m back in the office with several hundred midterms to grade over the next ten days.  My goal is to have them all returned by Thursday, November 3.  This means that grading, appropriately, will have to take precedence over posting!

My wife and I spent Saturday and Sunday up in Carmel, where we attended various events connected with my twenty-year high school reunion.  (And before I go any further, may I say my wife was absolutely heroic.  Indeed, all spouses and partners who go to entire reunion weekends deserve special medals!)

Saturday afternoon, we went to the Homecoming football game (the "Padres" are a lot better this year than we were when I was a student, and posted a satisfying shutout.)  Saturday night, about 50 members of the class of 1985 ( a good third of our small graduating class) gathered for snacks and drinks on Cannery Row; yesterday, we had a family picnic (complete with a rented bouncy castle) in Carmel Valley.  I’ll see if I can’t put some photos up later this week.

It was a remarkable experience.  I did not go to my ten-year reunion in 1995, so this was the first time I had seen many of my classmates in two full decades.  Anyone who has gone to such a reunion will surely know the sense of shock at seeing vaguely familiar faces, now already lined with wrinkles and the signs of twenty well-lived years.  A few were instantly recognizable, but in most cases, I had to use the name-tags we all wore.  (Without name-tags, it would have been very difficult!)  Very few people recognized me instantly either, so I didn’t feel too bad about stumbling over people’s names.

One of my friends, knowing I was going up to Carmel this past weekend, asked me about my real motives for attending the reunion.  "Are you going to show off, Hugo?", he asked.  This friend knows what I looked like in high school (a sample pic provided here).    I may now be a solid ENFP, but when I took Myers-Briggs in high school, I was a clear INFJ.  Some personality traits can be changed over time, I assure you.  What that means, for folks who hate all of these letters, is that I was very much a shy, chubby,  unathletic, geek. (That may not be true of all INFJs, but it was for me.)  Now, by no means am I any less a "geek" today at 38 — it’s just that I’ve dealt with overcoming the "shy" and the "unathletic" !  So yes, there was a significant part of me that did want my classmates to see how much I have changed,  both in terms of my body and my personality.   

But I did not go to the reunion merely to seek validation. My real reason was a driving curiosity to see whether my classmates had made the same kind of physical, emotional, and spiritual changes that I have made in the last twenty years.  I cannot begin to tell you how gratifying it was to see just how many of those with whom I went through school (some I saw this weekend I had known since second grade) had become interesting, kind, fun people.  Because I was never a popular kid in high school, I had the customary resentments directed towards the cooler, more popular boys and girls.   I’ll admit that when I was a teenager, like many bookish and shy kids, I imagined myself to be a better (or at least a deeper) person than many of my classmates.  Even then, I didn’t like the way I responded to teasing with comforting thoughts of my own superiority. 

Yesterday afternoon, as I talked with other ‘85ers and watched their many small children play, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction.  I chatted with real estate developers and airline pilots; stay-at-home moms and nurses; fellow teachers and ranchers.  (Parenthetically, what many folks don’t realize about Carmel is just how rural the school district is.  Most folks only know the affluent beach area — but Carmel’s students are more likely to come from horse and cattle ranches in the Valley than they are from the multi-million dollar properties on the water.   In terms of an ethos, we’re more Ford F150s and boots than BMWs and loafers).  And as I talked and listened, I was humbled by the sense of grace I felt wash over me.  Kids whom I remembered as popular and aloof and ineffably cool were now doting, loving moms and dads, fumbling with sippy cups and wiping their children’s drool off shirts and blouses.  We talked less about what we were like in high school and more about our lives today.  Since we are all the same age (38), we’re all, more or less, struggling with similar issues.  We talked about mortgages, infertility, day care and school districts; we talked about aging parents, our own battles with skin cancer, and about our looming fortieth birthdays.  We talked about how busy our lives were.

The glory of this reunion, for me, was not that I got a chance to "show off" the new Hugo (and, of course, his beautiful new wife.)  The glory was that I got to see my classmates, finally, as human beings.  I had been so intimidated and so awed by so many of them when I was that shy, introverted teen.  I had seen "jocks" and "preppies" and "cowboys" and "cheerleaders", but I hadn’t seen human beings.  I had felt abused and picked on, but I never realized how badly — even cruelly — I stereotyped my fellow students when I was in high school.  This weekend, more than twenty years after I left high school, I was able to see these same people and rejoice in the kind, fun, interesting human beings that they had become.  Heck, I realized that perhaps they had always been those things, and I, in the special narcissism of the high school loner, had just been too judgmental and myopic to see them for who they were.

I was humbled and touched by my experience this weekend. I don’t know that I’ll keep in touch with many of my classmates; I’ll probably only speak to most of them again when we gather (grayer, older, wiser, gentler) in 2015 for our thirtieth.  But whether I see them or not in the next ten years, I left the reunion weekend with warm and affectionate feelings for all of them.  Perhaps it’s just sentimentality that has me feeling this way, but I’d like to think it’s grace  - - the grace that has allowed me, after two decades, to put some old demons to bed and embrace unconditionally some truly wonderful folks whose essential goodness and complexity I have only now begun to see.

Be well, Carmel High class of 1985.

Of Bogota and backsides

Friday noted things:

1.  My wife and I are in the early stages of planning our third trip to her mother’s native Colombia for sometime next year.   In addition to the wonderful time we’ve spent with her family on their finca in a remote and rural part of Cesar province, we’ve enjoyed our two previous visits to Bogota immensely.   Thus I was struck by this story (hat tip — to of all people — the Nice Guys); apparently, the mayor of Bogota has decided to name only women as his "minor mayors", each overseeing one of the massive city’s diverse and fascinating neighborhoods:

On Aug. 6–as flags emblazoned with the words "The Right to Rule With Tenderness" flew from the old palace that houses city hall–Mayor Garzon appointed the women to all 20 of the minor mayor posts.

In the last administration, six of Bogota’s minor mayors were women. But this time the mayor–who says he wants to clean up corruption–decided to appoint only women to the posts. For an explanation he cites a pro-woman bias. He says women have a reputation as straightforward and effective administrators and that women will be more honest in assessing public bids for city contracts.

"Regarding bids, women inspire confidence," Garzon told El Tiempo, Colombia’s main daily. "They make up more than 50 percent of the Colombian population and they are very sensitive to social policies."

Though I’m not happy about the way the "tenderness" bit reinforces a very traditional stereotype, it’s a bold and interesting experiment.  When we visit next year, we’ll ask around and see what the locals think.

On a related note, Bogota’s progress stands side by side with with Colombia’s abortion laws, among the most restrictive in the world.

2.  I’m happy to report that this morning, I did my first "double-digit mileage" trail run in the Angeles Forest.  As I continue to heal from my calf injury sustained on September 12, I can feel my strength and endurance returning.  It’s nice to be able to run long again — all the bicycling, swimming, and Pilates in the world cannot compensate for the ecstatic high that pounding the trails can bring!   Once an addict, always an addict; it’s just nice to have such a healthy addiction.

I can report, happily, that all the time on the bike recently has begun to slowly "build my butt."  I have a stereotypical "white man’s backside", the sort that lean dudes are prone to, and the running hasn’t helped it.  Biking does.   No one will ever say that "Hugo got back", but my Trek and I are helping make things a little less flat back there.

I know you all wanted to know that.

Off ’till Monday.  Lots of long posts this week, and I need a break.

MRAs, documentaries, “assaults” –UPDATED

I did not watch the PBS documentary "Breaking the Silence: Children’s Stories" that aired last night. I can say that my inbox has been filled with mail from MRAs and father’s rights groups, all of whom lobbied PBS (unsuccessfully) to get the documentary pulled off the air. Lots of posts about the film can be found at Trish Wilson’s place, and she links to this newspaper review of the documentary.

My friend and polite adversary, Glenn Sacks, sent out this email alert earlier this week; Glenn calls the film an "assault on fatherhood."

Though I haven’t seen the film, I’m troubled that Glenn — and his fellow MRAs — use the verb "assault" in this context.   It may be a film whose ideological commitments are at odds with MRA doctrine; it may not parrot the father’s rights activist line — but it is not, under any circumstances, an "assault."  All of us who work on issues of gender justice, domestic violence, and sexual harassment are obligated to speak out against the pervasive habit of using words like "assault" and "bashing" to describe the work of our movement.

One of the most unpleasant tactics of the Men’s Rights Movement has been to appropriate "victim language".  MRAs talk incessantly about being "assaulted", either literally by women or figuratively by a court system that they see as hopelessly biased in favor of mothers.  They call women’s studies courses exercises in "man-bashing", even though they cannot name a single incident where a man has been physically assaulted in such a class!  It’s a smart tactic on their part, as it allows the primary perpetrators of violence against women to claim to be the real victims. 

Outside of a few spectacular cases, it’s difficult for MRAs to document what they claim to be the widespread practice of women’s physical abuse of men in American society.  As a result, they use words like "assault" to describe PBS documentaries.  In doing so, they unwittingly (or perhaps quite intentionally) minimize the suffering of the real — and overwhelmingly female — victims of very real physical and sexual assaults.

Language matters!  As a women’s studies professor, I’ve made the effort to purge certain catch phrases like "patriarchal oppression" and "male privilege" from my public vocabulary.   These phrases describe important realities, of course — but they also are easily misinterpreted as the tired rhetoric of a movement well past its heyday.   I find it helpful to make the language of pro-feminism as jargon-free as possible; I still have work to do in that regard.  That said, I wish my friendly adversaries on the MRA front would leave loaded and precise words like "assault" out of a discussion of documentaries, and save it for real incidents of real violence.

UPDATE:  Glenn writes me an email to stress that the goal of his campaign was not to get PBS to pull the show, but to provide father’s rights groups the opportunity to respond on air with their version of the issue.

The Clitoris and Corinthians

I posted this morning about the happy compatibilities between vibrant faith and activist pro-feminism.  I believe everything I wrote, of course, but sometimes, sometimes, sometimes… I wander into what I worry are unfortunate contradictions.

This will be long:

My lecture in women’s history this morning was about nineteenth century attitudes towards women’s sexuality.  It’s the same lecture I wrote about in this April 2004 post.   In addition to talking about clitoridectomies, and the shift to the "medicalization of morality", we wandered on to the topics of sexual ethics, masturbation and "contingent happiness."  (Hey, they were awake and interested, and I was on a caffeinated roll!)  We talked about the difficulties 19th century medicine had with the clitoris, as it represented women’s capacity for their own pleasure, unrelated to either a man’s delight or (at least directly) to reproduction.  We talked about the biological determinism problem: if all of our sexual organs are for reproduction, and sexual pleasure is about reproduction, why is the clitoris placed to be easily reached by a woman’s fingers — but not by a man’s penis during intercourse?  (I did not suggest that this was a problem to be solved, rather that it threw the proverbial "wrench in the works" of many 19th century theories!)

I shared with my students the classic feminist argument (ala Betty Dodson et al) that the clitoris is symbolic of women’s right to pleasure and fulfillment without being dependent upon another person.  While traditional sexual mores, and a considerable amount of religious teaching, stress that our sexual happiness ought always be contingent upon relationship with another (usually our spouse), some feminist theory sees the clitoris as the small, powerful, and physical manifestation of the larger truth that women as well as men have the capacity for pleasure "uncontingent" upon another.  The anti-masturbation screeds of the 19th and 20th centuries have always emphasized that our sexuality is not our own, that it belongs to God and our spouse.  The clitoris, with no direct function other than a woman’s delight, stands (sorry!) in stubborn defiance of the notion that our sexual happiness should always be contingent upon relationship with another.  In a very real sense, one can thus argue that female masturbation is an inherently feminist act!

At the same time that I say all this, teach all this, and believe all this, I’ve got 1 Corinthians 7:4 (which I mentioned in this morning’s post) running through my head:

The wife’s body does not belong to her alone but also to her husband. In the same way, the husband’s body does not belong to him alone but also to his wife.

I’ve loved that line from Paul for two reasons.  One, as a pro-feminist, it is a reminder of radical equality in marriage.   Men and women both surrender their autonomy over the most precious part of themselves, and they are to do so equally.  It’s a nice counter-balance to other areas where Paul seems to imply the superior position of the husband in the family. 

But I also like the verse because it reminds me that in Christian marriage, we are called to live sacrificially for one another.  This doesn’t just mean sexually; as Cait points out, it’s 1 Corinthians 7:4 that allows her to have veto power over her husband’s desire to do dangerous things, like ride a motorcycle without a helmet.  It’s what gives my wife the right to demand that I see a doctor when I am ill; it is not merely my body that is ailing, but hers as well.   At its best, this ideal summons up a magnificent image of devotion, reciprocity, and mutual care.  It’s both deeply romantic and profound holy, and as a newly married man, I find it inspiring.

I don’t lecture to my women’s studies students about Pauline images of marriage!  My lectures in class are classically feminist in their emphasis on the notion that women’s overarching right to pleasure, individual happiness, autonomy and independence is the sine qua non of the movement.  In my marriage, however, and in my faith life, I’ve long since given up the notion that autonomy and personal pleasure ought to be the highest goals for myself or anyone else.  To the best of my clumsy and sinful ability, I am embracing sacrificial living.  My sexuality is no longer my own; I did surrender it to my wife as she surrendered hers to me.  We are not each other’s jailers, mind you, but we are committed to a joint vision of sexuality that is ours (rather than hers, or mine).  No, I’m not sharing any more details than that, but I can say it is a practice that is modeled on what I read in Paul.

So what do I want for my students of both sexes?  I suppose I reconcile the secular feminist ideal of autonomy and the Christian ideal of sacrificial loving in my own mind by suggesting that the former is a necessary precursor to the latter.  After all, we can only really give to another what we first know to be ours! Thus, I think I believe (note the hesitancy in my tone) that a healthy model of sexual development encourages young people, boys and girls alike, to take ownership of their sexuality and delight in their own bodies as sexual creatures.  They will experience their bodies as their own, a gift of God for their own wonder and delight.  I hope they will do so without shame.  Then, after a suitable period (which will vary from person to person), my hope is that they will find one person to whom they can make a lasting commitment.  In the safe and loving context of that commitment, they will offer their sexuality — their very body — as a gift to their partner.  They will live out the vision of 1 Corinthians 7:4 regardless of their individual religious beliefs.  Their sexuality will be freely and lovingly surrendered to a partner who offers his or her sexuality in return.

Is this hopelessly muddled?  Is my psychology of the human person woefully defective? Am I mixing secular morality with Scripture and ending up with an incoherent mess?    Or does it make as much sense to anyone else as it seems to to me?

Do I post too much about my doubts?  Do I post too much, period?

Time for a short lunch break.  Jello awaits, and that is a happy thought.