Archive for November, 2007

Fat is not a moral crisis

Zuzu has a fine post up this morning: Rejecting the Frames. It’s a follow-up to this piece at Feministing which sparked a heated — and at times — ugly comment thread.

The topic of the two posts (and this third brief, powerful one from Jill) is fat, the so-called “obesity crisis”, and the feminist response. Zuzu:

One of the things that bothers me… (as well as the whole “Diets Don’t Work!” mantra, which also usually puts in an appearance) is that it puts the focus on the individual fat person rather than on the treatment that the fat person is having to deal with. Indeed, this is a good example of the “personal is political” phenomenon as it was originally put forth: our weights may be within our individual control, but the way society treats us because of our weight demands a collective solution. Being turned down for insurance because of your BMI isn’t truly a personal problem, it’s a political one — why should insurance companies get to draw arbitrary lines to deny coverage, and by the way, why is it we still don’t have universal health care, again?

And your doctor’s berating you about your weight may seem like an individual problem, but the fact that fat hatred kills demands a collective solution. But if shame keeps us off-balance and justifying why we weigh what we weigh, or why we should (or shouldn’t) do something about that, then we never really think of the problem as being bigger than ourselves.

The self-justification also sets up a certain group (those who engage in healthy behaviors) as more worthy of being left alone by the Obesity Crisis™ Watchdog than those who don’t. But why should healthy lifestyle be the ticket to being treated as a human being? I shouldn’t have to do a damn thing to claim my right to being treated equally other than exist. Who the fuck has the right to deny me that just because I like to have a piece of cake every now and again, or because sometimes I eat too much or don’t exercise?

Amen, zuzu.

I was at my boxing gym early this morning for my regular Monday meeting with Pepe, my trainer. I know lots of other folks who work out there, and as I was packing my bag, getting ready to leave, a casual acquaintance of mine and I started talking about our Thanksgiving plans. As we said goodbye, she said laughingly, “Don’t eat too much this week. Oh, wait, go ahead — overeat! You’ve earned it!”

I was fairly groggy this morning, and didn’t think about what my friend said until I read Zuzu’s post. The language of “earning” is used a lot in fitness circles; it’s an economic and a moral term. And it’s got some fairly troubling implications. Continue reading ‘Fat is not a moral crisis’

Humility and humiliation, self-loathing and hubris: a long and personal post about addiction and self-awareness

I mentor a wide variety of students in an equally wide variety of ways. I’m fond of all of them, but I will admit I have a keen sense of responsibility to those students whom I know are my fellow addicts. In the various Twelve Step programs with which I have been affiliated, there is a key maxim: if you want to keep something good (like sobriety), you’ve got to give it away. Call it mentoring or sponsoring or advising, it’s vital to my continued recovery that I work with other addicts. And as luck would have it, I’ve struggled with a colorful palate of compulsions, so I can usually identify with what it is that the young man or woman with whom I am working is going through. And even when I can’t always relate to the actions they’re engaged in (though I almost always can), I can connect to their feelings. That spinning cycle that carries them compulsively from ecstasy to despair is very, very familiar.

Though I often tell anecdotes about my students, when it comes to issues of addiction I shy away from blogging about what they tell me in confidence, even if I go to great lengths to disguise their identity. Their pain is not fodder for my writing. But of course, I do get inspired to blog about things that come up in these mentoring sessions, and something came up this week with one young person that brought me instantly back to a younger, not-yet forgotten Hugo.

One characteristic I see in many addicts is one that was a key part of me for many years. From the time I was a child until I was well into my thirties, I had what most addicts have: a strange mix of brutally low self-esteem and extraordinary grandiosity. For years and years my head told me that I was fat, ugly, shallow, selfish, and unloveable. At the same time, my head told me that I was incredibly strong. My strength lay in my capacity to endure what I imagined no one else could endure, because — my ego told me — if anyone else was suffering what I was suffering they would go stark raving mad. Admittedly, I did go temporarily mad on more than one occasion, but also managed to get through college, earn graduate degrees, and hold down a tenure-track job while dealing with both addiction and periodic psychotic episodes. In my grandiosity, I chalked up that success in the midst of my despair to this great strength I had. Continue reading ‘Humility and humiliation, self-loathing and hubris: a long and personal post about addiction and self-awareness’

Friday Random Ten: “vegans can overeat at the holidays too” edition

Two bonus tracks on this week’s FRT, because you won’t see another FRT until December. New stuff, old stuff, all good stuff. If you’ve never heard Melissa Ferrick, check her out. And though #5 is surely one of the greatest pop songs ever recorded, I have very happy — and very different — associations with tracks 2 and 6.

1. “The Lucky One”, Alison Krauss
2. “Burning Down One Side”, Robert Plant
3. “I Will Dream”, Emmylou Harris
4. “With Arms Outstretched”, Rilo Kiley
5. “Tiny Dancer”, Elton John
6. “Do Me Baby”, Prince
7. “Selwood Farm”, Bebo Norman
8. “Never Give Up”, Melissa Ferrick
9. “Movin’ Out”, Billy Joel
10. “When the Stars Go Blue”, Ryan Adams

Bonus Track: “Jesse James”, Bruce Springsteen
Bonus Track Two: “Go Leave”, Kate and Anna McGarrigle

The “miracle cure” of marriage: responding to Kay Hymowitz and Brad Wilcox (again)

I’ve taken two days to write this post. I feel very, very strongly about it — more than about any post I’ve written in, well, at least a few months.

In the latest issue of First Things (not available yet online except to subscribers), W. Bradford Wilcox reviews Marriage and Caste in America: Separate and Unequal Families in a Post-Marital Age, the latest from conservative family scholar Kay S. Hymowitz.

I haven’t read Hymowitz yet, but I always seem to have a bone to pick with Brad Wilcox. I’ve taken issue with him in three separate posts: here, here, here. Wilcox is a Virginia Cavalier (and I have a soft spot for all things Charlottesville), and he’s an important family scholar in his own right. I agree with him on almost nothing, but admire his writing style.

Wilcox has this way of saying things that are so stunningly wrong that I leap up from the couch or chair or desk and start madly pacing about. From this month’s First Things review:

The rise of the marriage gap also reveals that a large minority of working-class, poor, and minority adults no longer “believe in marriage as an institution for raising children.” They have lost touch with a marriage orientation that requires them to keep an eye on the future, to work hard, to discipline their sexual (or at least reproductive) behavior, and to be discriminating in their choice of romantic partners. In making this point, Hymowitz provocatively turns on its head the standard liberal argument that the poor do not marry because they do not have good jobs, adequate income, and decent housing; instead, she persuasively argues that the disappearance of a marriage orientation—and the virtues and values associated with this orientation—among the poor and working class is a big part of the reason that they and their children are more likely to end up at the bottom of the social ladder.

I may be blaming Wilcox for Hymowitz’s sin, but his approval of her stance (the bold is mine) is clear. It’s like reading something from the Gilded Age of nineteenth-century social reform, when earnest upper-middle-class types tut-tutted about the licentiousness and immorality of the poor and the brown. The urban poor (particularly, I suspect, Wilcox and Hymowitz mean black and Latino people) have — get this — no work ethic and no sexual self-control. Why? Because the “po’ folks ain’t gettin’ married no mo”. Wilcox and Hymowitz, like most social conservatives, see marriage as the panacea for all social problems. Sexually frustrated? Get married. Worried about social security? Get married. Want to have happy children? Get married. Want to end global warming, cure the common cold, and hasten the return of the Lord? Get married. Continue reading ‘The “miracle cure” of marriage: responding to Kay Hymowitz and Brad Wilcox (again)’

“She’s so pretty”: some thoughts on compliments, looks, and “trophyism”: UPDATED

Here’s one I haven’t discussed.

Not unexpectedly, most of the photographs on my desk are of my wife and me, including a formal wedding portrait. Time and again, students and colleagues come in, look at the pictures, and say “Your wife is beautiful” (or something similar). And after a long time, I’ve grown very comfortable saying “thank you.”

Years ago, I was at a wedding (remarkably, it was one of the few in which I wasn’t involved as either groom or minister) with an ex-girlfriend of mine. I introduced my date to some friends, and one of them, an older woman, blurted out, “Hugo, she’s very pretty.” She said this right in front of my date as if she wasn’t there, and I said “thank you.” When my date got me alone, she punched me firmly in the arm and asked “Why did you say ‘thank you’? Are my looks your accomplishment to be praised? Some feminist you are!”

Ouch. There’s no question that within a great many different social circles, it is considered customary to offer praise of a woman’s looks to her husband, boyfriend, or father. It often doesn’t seem to matter whether the praise is entirely justified, either. Ever since I started dating, I noticed that it seemed standard protocol to make a remark about the perceived prettiness of the woman in my life. I note that with my fourth wife, I get the remarks more frequently because she is truly striking, but by now I know enough to know that this particular compliment is almost a cultural universal.

I understand why a visitor to my office might remark that my wife “looks lovely.” They can’t tell from looking at her picture that she’s brilliant, that she’s got an absolutely brutal left hook that can floor most men, that she has hundreds of phone, account and credit card numbers memorized in her head (it’s part of her job). They can’t tell that she’s a great salsa dancer or that she is a marvelous cook or passionate about Gabriel Garcia Marquez. They can tell that she’s lovely, and so that’s what they remark upon.

But saying “thank you” to a compliment paid to your wife or girlfriend about her looks is at least somewhat problematic. The friend at the wedding who praised my date’s prettiness directed that praise at me, and there seemed to be an implication then — as there often is now when folks comment on my wife’s pictures — that I am to be credited with having succeeded at something by “landing” a “hot” woman. One of the things that feminists work very hard to reject is the notion that women’s looks are currency for men to measure their own status. The phrase “trophy wife” or “arm charm” resonates painfully. Ask women whose husbands or boyfriends have dumped them because they couldn’t provide sufficient “hotness” to boost the ego of their male partners. Using women’s attractiveness to measure a man’s status is as disastrous as it is (still, sadly) ubiquitious.

On the other hand, I can’t give everyone who compliments my wife’s looks a lecture. Most of the time these days, especially since she and I have been married, I do say “thank you”. I say it not because I believe that my ego has just been boosted, but because I take very seriously the idea that my wife and I are joined together. We have become a team, a union of flesh and spirit. Her triumphs are my triumphs, my triumphs are hers. A compliment to either of us is a compliment to both, an insult to either is an insult to both. That doesn’t mean I need to fight all of her battles for her. That doesn’t mean that we don’t retain a considerable degree of autonomy even within marriage. It means that in terms of how the outside world perceives us, we are a unified front, standing shoulder to shoulder. (This unity, however, does not impose an obligation on my wife to look a certain way; if she gains a huge amount of weight, for example, I am not entitled to use the “but we’re a team” card to badger her into looking good for my benefit.)

On the other hand, I’m very reluctant to praise the looks of a male friend’s wife or girlfriend, at least until after I’ve gotten to know her much better. When shown a photograph that requires a compliment, I usually say something (fashionista that I am) about clothing or accessories. “What a great suit”, somehow, seems far less sexist than “She’s a knock-out.” Perhaps that’s not a distinction everyone sees as meaningful, but it works for me.

Please share your thoughts.

UPDATE: I’m bumping this up from the comments, because when I wrote this post, I gave the impression that I only say “thank you” when someone compliments my wife’s looks. What I almost always add afterwards is “I think so, too.”

And of course, perhaps the most feminist response would be the “I think so, too” without the “thank you.” But sometimes etiquette and ideology conflict and etiquette wins; I was raised to thank everything that moved.

Thursday Short Poem: Hershon’s “Sentimental Moment”

I had this poem up at Thanksgiving 2004, and have it up again the week before the 2007 edition. My own father was alive and well then, and he is gone now as I repost this fine Robert Hershon short piece.

Sentimental Moment, Or Why Did the Baguette Cross the Road?

Don’t fill up on bread
I said absent-mindedly
The servings here are huge

My son, whose hair may be
receding a bit, says
Did you really just
say that to me?

What he doesn’t know
is that when we’re walking
together when we get
to the curb
I sometimes start to reach
for his hand

Hugo the minister is available for your special event

I mentioned briefly in this post that I’ve got one of those mail-order minister’s licenses, the sort that allows you to perform legal weddings in most US states.

I got that license back in the spring of 1992. My first wife’s sister and her fiance were planning their own wedding. She was half-Chinese, half-Filipino; he was Jewish. She had been raised Catholic and he had been Bar-Mitzvahed, but neither had any particular attachment to their faiths of origin. My ex-sister-in-law and I were fairly close, and at one family gathering, she walked up to me and said “David and I have been talking, and we want you to do our wedding.”

My ex-sister-in-law, Alena, had heard a spot on the radio about the Church of Universal Life. She’d even written to them, and learned that for a small donation, I could be ordained a licensed minister. (This was back before the Internet was available.) Alena and David wanted very much to be married at a friend’s home in Laguna Hills, Orange County. They wanted a secular service that mixed together Jewish and Christian elements. They wanted a chupah and they wanted to smash a glass, but they didn’t want a rabbi. They wanted me to help them write their own vows. Continue reading ‘Hugo the minister is available for your special event’

Ingrid Newkirk on Bloomberg and some thoughts on direct action

Last night, I watched a terrific interview with one of my heroes, Ingrid Newkirk, founder of PETA. She was a guest on Bloomberg television’s Night Talk program, and a clip of part of the interview is available here. Like many feminists, I have criticized certain of PETA’s tactics in the past, but I am deeply committed to PETA’s overall goals. PETA and my favorite charity, PCRM, are closely related and share many of the same board members — even though they rarely employ the same tactics to achieve their goals.

Newkirk is the subject of a new HBO documentary, and has a charming book out just this fall, Let’s Have a Dog Party. She gives a great interview on Bloomberg (as hard news vanishes from the airwaves, I find myself watching that cable business channel more and more often), and deftly answers the question of “extremism”. Suffrage wasn’t won in Britain, Newkirk points out, until “extreme” suffragettes chained themselves to parliament railings; slavery wasn’t ended in the United States until one side was willing to take up arms; civil rights did not come to the south without violent confrontation.

Newkirk’s calm, civil, charming call to direct action reminds me of MLK’s famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail, where the great minister rebukes his fellow (white) pastors who find his direct action and civil disobedience distasteful. King writes:

Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored. My citing the creation of tension as part of the work of the nonviolent-resister may sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” I have earnestly opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth. Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half-truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, we must we see the need for nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood.

Bold mine. Substitute in “speciesism” for racism, and you’ve got a compelling case for PETA’s direct action in confronting the appalling everyday reality of animal cruelty.

May the good Lord give Ingrid Newkirk many wonderful years on this planet, may He strengthen her in her holy work, and may He give her the words and the tools to help all of us see that all of Creation is equally blessed, equally valuable, equally worthy of protection, dignity, and rights.

A note on not grieving Norman Mailer (or Ayn Rand, or Kahlil Gibran)

More than is absolutely necessary, I don’t grieve Norman Mailer’s passing. Of all the acclaimed American writers of the second half of the last century, his popularity was the most inexplicable to me. I found Mailer’s prose dull, and perhaps for that reason, his nasty, angry, posturing sexism seemed all the more obvious and shopworn to me. I tried three times to read The Naked and the Dead, and never finished it. I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but in Mailer’s case, yikes, it’s hard.

Mailer is in a very small group of writers whom I find so impossible that I get irked the moment I even hear their names. The two others who come to mind are, for different reasons, Ayn Rand and Kahlil Gibran. I’ve actually read the major works of Rand (she’s the only writer I’ve ever read who can both bore and enrage simultaneously), and I’ve struggled with the Prophet. I’ve done a few weddings with my mail-order minister’s license, and at one, I even had to read a long section from Gibran. I did so cheerfully and without complaint, but to hear those pretentious, gummy syllables fall from my lips was hard. (And I know a thing or two about being pretentious and gummy.) Anyhow, the best thing I’ve read all year is Alan Jacob’s delicious take on Gibran in First Things. It’s not entirely Christian in spirit, but it’s very fine, and if you’re familiar with the Prophet’s style, you’ll be howling. An excerpt:

O Book, O Collected Works of Kahlil Gibran,
Published by Everyman’s Library on a dark day,
I lift you from the Earth to which I recently flung you
When my wrath grew too mighty for me,
I lift you from the Earth,
Noticing once more your annoying heft,
And thanking God—though such thanks are sinful—
That Kahlil Gibran died in New York in 1931
At the age of forty-eight,
So that he could write no more words,
So that this Book would not be yet larger than it is.

So, folks, which writer much esteemed and beloved by your friends do you really, really dislike?

The master’s voice, the students’ voices: some more thoughts on feminist pedagogy, microprocessors, and creating safe space

Below this morning’s post, reader and philosopher J.K. Gayle offers both a comment and a link to his very long, challenging, and fascinating post entitled Feminist Binary: the Eleventh Step. He riffs on everything and everyone from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous to Helene Cixous to the Dixie Chicks to C.S. Lewis to Aristotle himself. It’s a sprawling and ambitious post, and I’ve read it through twice and still struggle to absorb the whole thing. (Which is part of the point — our need for concise narratives is, in some sense, very masculine.) In any event, it’s worth a serious read if you’ve got the time.

Something Gayle wrote connected powerfully for me:

Good feminists must differentiate between the masculinist binary (“either / or”) and the feminist binary (“yes, there’s that either / or and yet there’s also the both / and”)…Bad feminism often resorts only to the mere masculinist binary, usually in the futile effort to abandon or to denigrate the masculinist binary. Elsewhere, I’ve discussed how Gesa Kirsch and Joy Ritchie have felt they needed to abandon the feminist personal and to resort to masculinist methods “beyond the personal.”

One of the basic principles of feminist teaching is that both the subjects being covered and the pedagogy used to cover them need to embrace feminist principles. In a women’s history class like my History 25B (Introduction to Women in American Society) course, it’s obvious that feminism is the subject. But it doesn’t automatically follow that feminism is the method. As I’ve written elsewhere, I use the lecture method quite a bit (though not exclusively). The dominant mode of learning is ostensibly problematic. I’m a forty-year old straight Christian WASP male who spends a fair amount of time lecturing about feminism to a classroom that is overwhelmingly younger, female, and non-white. And in order to get all of American women’s history (and the entire feminist movement) into one short semester, I have to do more than lecture — I have to impose a coherent, logical, easy-to-grasp narrative onto what is an enormously complex subject. I must cover all of American women’s history from the pre-Columbian period to last week, expose the students to basic feminist theory, and inspire them to connect this material to their own lives. I’m keenly aware that I’m critiquing patriarchy and embodying it at the same time. Continue reading ‘The master’s voice, the students’ voices: some more thoughts on feminist pedagogy, microprocessors, and creating safe space’

Mothers, daughters, and sons: some thoughts on Astrid Henry and inter-generational feminist rebellion

I’m a little bleary-eyed this Tuesday morning. The cold I was fighting off all of last week settled on me with some force on Saturday, and it still lingers today. The onset of illness did not prevent my wife and me from taking a much-needed “short break” (as the English would say) — we gave ourselves 24 hours at a nearby hotel. No cell phones, no computers, just lots of rest and time for each other. We’ve been going non-stop at one thing or another since late August, and we needed a quick recharge before settling into the holiday frenzy that now looms.

Though his site is not work-safe for all, Figleaf has some very kind (and interesting) things to say about my recent post on a “passionately feminist” marriage.

And I’ve just finished Astrid Henry’s Not my Mother’s Sister: Generational Conflict and Third Wave Feminism (I learned about the Henry book from Courtney Martin at Feminsting.) The book explores the “mother-daughter” model to describe the conflict between two successive waves of feminism: the Second Wave of the 1960s and early ’70s and the Third Wave that began to emerge in the early 1990s. Feminists of the Second Wave (everyone from Betty Friedan to Shulamith Firestone) were born between 1920-1955; the Third Wave roughly corresponds to “Generation X” (1964-1981). Some folks, of course, now speak of a Fourth Wave. To outsiders, it all gets very confusing. Though imperfect, the Wikipedia definitions of Second and Third Wave feminism are helpful.

My mother was — and still is - in many respects a classic “Second Wave” feminist. Born in 1937, she graduated from Vassar in 1959, back when it was still an all-women’s college. She was influenced by the likes of Simone de Beauvoir and, later, Betty Friedan. My mother was active in the League of Women Voters, and joined the National Organization for Women more or less upon its 1966 inception. Throughout my early childhood, Ms. Magazine was on the coffee table. My mother had an enormous influence on my sense of what feminism was; indeed, even after all of these years of teaching women’s studies, when someone asks me for a mental image of a feminist I still see my mother, circa 1975: short hair, black wool turtleneck, smoking Vantage cigarettes, sitting at her desk in her study reading Hobbes. (I realize that in that image I have of Mom, she’s younger than I am now.)
Continue reading ‘Mothers, daughters, and sons: some thoughts on Astrid Henry and inter-generational feminist rebellion’

Saturday reprint: Courtly Love and Double Standards

It’s a long holiday weekend, and I won’t be back to regular posting until Tuesday morning. In the interim, here’s a repost of something I wrote back in March 2005:

The comments on this post from last week about accountability have shifted to the topic of bad male behavior, particularly the sort that takes place when no other fellow is around. Mythago recently wrote:

Chivalry has always been about good manners towards ‘ladies,’ not to women, period. It’s as true in the modern day as it was when The Art of Courtly Love was written.

She’s right about the Art of Courtly Love. Andreas Capellanus, who wrote that famous medieval tract, argued for immense patience in pursuing women of gentle birth. As for peasants:

“If you love a peasant woman, praise her and force her–peasants don’t respond to gentle wooing.”

So much for seeing all women as one’s sisters in Christ! Capellanus makes it clear that the pursuit of courtly love is likely to be immensely frustrating for a man — which is why peasant women make such a convenient outlet for pent-up sexual desire.

Mythago is right when she suggests that nine centuries after Capellanus wrote his tract, the attitudes within it survive. Many of the male commenters on my recent posts about responsibility and propriety have implied that good manners are essentially reciprocal. Their thesis? If a woman dresses appropriately, she is deserving of respect in return. If she doesn’t respect herself or her community, then she forfeits her right to be respected. In other words, “nice” girls, “demure” girls, have the right not to be objectified and openly lusted for; “bad” women (you know, the bra-less ones, the ones in short skirts), deserve the wolfish stares from their brothers and resentment from their sisters. Continue reading ‘Saturday reprint: Courtly Love and Double Standards’

Friday Random Ten: wriggling with joy for a three-day weekend

I’ll bet a Starbucks card or a PETA donation that none of my readers own each of the eleven artists here. I came to Rilo Kiley just within the past year, but most of these songs are old (or ageing) favorites. (I suppose #6 is the track that doesn’t fit.)

1. “Spectacular Views”, Rilo Kiley
2. “Your Life is Now”, John Mellencamp
3. “Martyrs and Thieves”, Jennifer Knapp
4. “The Weakness in Me”, Joan Armatrading
5. “The Wind and the Mountain”, Liz Phair
6. “Holy Diver”, Dio
7. “The Last Resort”, The Eagles
8. “Hurt Me Bad In a Real Good Way”, Patty Loveless
9. “Lie to Me”, Depeche Mode
10. “Better than You”, Terri Clark

Bonus Track: “Sunday Morning Coming Down”, Kris Kristofferson

Dobson versus Robertson, the Giuliani endorsement, and the split over the End Times — a brief post with a long title

Hugh Hewitt, the only right-wing radio talk-show host to whom I regularly listen, has an interesting post up about Pat Robertson’s surprise endorsement of Rudy Giuliani. Given that James Dobson — right up there with Robertson in terms of influence among conservative evangelicals — has stated categorically that he won’t support the pro-choice Rudy if he is the GOP nominee, Robertson’s announcement seemed surprising. Hugh Hewitt, an enthusiastic Mitt Romney supporter, is rather eager to make the case that the endorsement doesn’t matter much. (The Romney types really should be getting nervous, as their boy is still going nowhere in the national polls. I still think he’ll be the nominee, however, facing Clinton.)

I think there’s another reason Robertson picked Giuliani, and it has everything to do with how Pat interprets prophecy. Continue reading ‘Dobson versus Robertson, the Giuliani endorsement, and the split over the End Times — a brief post with a long title’

The lure of victim consciousness: more on marriage, disparate desire, and responsibility

Below Monday’s post on marriage and disparate desire, “Married Tom” writes:

There are two sides to the incompatible libido/unhappy sex life coin. I would argue that living with the expectation that most advances to your spouse will be met with a “not interested tonight, and since ‘I’ come before ‘us’ that is justifiable” can have equally “soul scarring” results. The sense of rejection, demoralization, and ultimately apathy that builds up over time from constant, predictable rejection is just as real and damaging as the bleak feeling that must come from being “pressured or nagged” into sex. Neither is good, yet you are implying that one is morally acceptable while the other is damning.

You are saying that regardless of whether the decision is mutual, you should learn to accept the situation and be happy with it. Many spouses do just that, I believe it is an example of the factors behind what Thoreau observed behind the “quiet desperation” in many men. Failing to see why the anxious spouse can’t just learn to “deal with it” is not particularly helpful–a strange mix of pragmatism and sanctimony.

Monday’s post was in response to a particularly asinine article. My point was that no one, married or not, is ever “entitled” to have sex with another human being. The “yes” of the wedding day is not a “yes” to every future sexual encounter with a spouse. Good sex is based not on duty but on desire — and when it comes to sex, most folks seem to find that duty makes desire disappear right quick. The author of the article suggested that lower-desire spouses ought to think of sex as one of the many tasks one undertakes to make a partner happy, like taking out the garbage or doing the dishes. I — and most of my commenters — vigorously reject that analogy. Taking out the garbage when one doesn’t want to leads to momentary resentment, while having sex you don’t want can be profoundly damaging to the spirit. Sex is not easily made analogous to any other household activity! Sophonisba makes this point well:

We are all aware that you have to do lots of things you don’t want to do, in life and in marriage. Every decent person does things they don’t want to do, every day–yes, even people who don’t put out on command.

Try stepping away from the easy, comforting “anything I don’t want to do” generalities for a second and put it in concrete terms. You’re not talking about having somebody do “something” or “anything” they don’t want to. You’re talking about having them have sex they don’t want to have. Not quite so vague and fluffy, when you look it in the face. Continue reading ‘The lure of victim consciousness: more on marriage, disparate desire, and responsibility’