Archive for December, 2007

Top Ten in 2007: the bottom half

For the fourth consecutive year, I’m following a tradition, started by Bob Carlton, of putting up links to what I’ve chosen as my best (or most significant) posts of the year. Links to the 2004-2006 selections can be found here. I encourage other bloggers, particularly reasonably prolific ones, to pick a Top Ten (or a Top Five, Top Three, etc) of their own posts.

In ascending order, here are posts 10 through 6; the Top Five of 2007 will appear next week.

10. Meat, Dairy, Porn: some preliminary thoughts on women, dieting, veganism, guilt, pleasure, and exploitation (May 7). Key excerpt:

As many others have pointed out, there’s a link between patriarchal exploitation of women and human exploitation of animals. Men have used women to do unpaid work for millenia, and humans have used animals in the same fashion. The bodies of women are seen as “fair game” (a hunting reference) for predatory men, and pornography celebrates the idea that men are entitled to take delight (visual or otherwise) in the flesh of women who have little or no say in the matter. The meat industry teaches us that cows and pigs and fish exist solely to bring delight to our taste buds and satisfaction to our bellies. In patriarchal culture, the bodies of women and the bodies of animals exist to be consumed. Feminist veganism rejects the exploitation and abuse of living things; it counsels radical self-denial on the part of the consumer as a tool for liberating the consumed…

9. A very long post about Los Angeles, an Eagles song, nationalism, history, self-reinvention and the “club versus country” debate (January 30)

What makes me a Los Angeleno in my mindset is my fascination with self-reinvention. I love that I am surrounded by hundreds of thousands, even millions of people, who call somewhere else their truest home — but have nonetheless come here, to this basin with its beaches and valleys and hills — in order to start something new. They’ve come here to escape the burdens and obligations of the past, the sort that linger in the old places even after the old people have gone. They’ve come here to escape the “things are the way they are” mindset. They’ve come here to replace the fatalism and superstition of the old places with a relentless optimism about their own potential and the possibility of global transformation. They’ve come here to get away from the ghosts of Holocausts and World Wars and rigid class distinctions. They’ve come here to run on mountain trails upon which their ancestors never set foot.

8. Called to become like Christ: a long post about John Stott, following Jesus, and male transformation (August 8) Key excerpt:

Talking about the Christian duty to pursue Christ-like perfection brings us quickly to a seeming paradox. We’re called to become like Jesus — but a central part of His message is forgiveness for those (surely including ourselves) who regularly and repeatedly fall short of the mark. What we’ve got to do, it seems, is hold two things in simultaneous tension: the knowledge that we are all loved, just as we are, even if we never change — and the knowledge that we are called and required to do the achingly hard work of relentlessly changing ourselves and the world.

Sometimes, I imagine Jesus saying something like this to me: “Hugo, I love you just as you are. No matter what you’ve done, no matter what you’re doing or thinking or saying, I couldn’t love you any more than I already do. No matter what, no matter what, I adore you. But I long for you to change and grow; I’m calling you to follow me and to feed my lambs.”

7. Restraining the ego and leaving doors unopened: a note about crushes, flirtation, and the “desire to know” (April 10) Excerpt:

I can’t think of a more tempting — and more disastrous — reason to begin any love affair than “curiosity.” When I was younger, I cloaked neediness and compulsiveness in the language of intellectual (or at least romantic) curiosity. Time and again, I pursued someone because I was desperately curious to know certain things: Could I “have” them? Did they “want” me as I “wanted” them? What would it be like to “be” (however briefly) with someone “like that”? Firmly committed to the lie that “experience is always the best teacher”, I attempted to justify some fairly unjustifiable behavior with the explanation that I had “an insatiable desire to know.” (This is a particularly common trait, I know, among academics — many of whom are notorious for petty affairs and infidelities. We exalt the pursuit of knowledge above all other virtues, and periodically find it all too easy to confuse the gratifying of our own ego with the acquisition of genuine understanding.)

6. “A son, not a husband”: some very long thoughts about marriage in a roundabout response to Jill (June 14)

Key excerpt:

A good friend of mine, several years older than Jill, is recently divorced. She pledges never to remarry, saying: “In the end, most men expect women to take care of them once they’re married. I don’t mean financially, I mean enotionally. I’m just tired of thinking about someone else’s needs all the time, particularly an adult’s. I’m prepared to take care of a baby. But I don’t want my first-born to be my second child!”

My friend isn’t describing every American man. But she’s describing all too many. And it’s not just a reference to housework she makes. All of the research shows, of course, that even when both parties in a marriage work an equal number of hours outside the home, the woman tends to spend more time on domestic work. But the problem my friend is really focused on is less about doing the dishes and more about emotional intelligence (what’s often called “EQ”). Far too many men fail to do adequate self-care when they are in relationship with women. Far too many men becoming enormously reliant on their girlfriends or wives to urge them to see a doctor, to be the sole source of professional encouragement, to monitor their alcohol intake or the content of their diets. Far too many men unintentionally turn their girlfriends or wives into mother figures; in a sense, they outsource their emotional maintenance.

The Top Five come next week.

Ten years ago today…

… I got my tongue pierced. (I had had the nipples pierced the year earlier.) The barbell was enlarged a few times over the next six months, but after I cracked two teeth with it in the fall of 1998, I took the darn thing out for good, less than eleven months after I first put it in. It was fun while it lasted.

How long ago it seems.

Thursday Search Terms

In the past week, the following search queries have brought people here:

michael vicks excessive I’ll say he was. 23 months was 37 too few.

actor who played manly on little house on the prairie Dean, you’re loved.

how would boy attract the girl of 16 after that she don t like her
I’ve read this five times and I’m still confused.

women of color feminism mental health No, Virginia, these terms are not all mutually exclusive.

short poem about an animal dog This one?

the meaning of student crashes hugo schwyzer I would rather my students stayed out of auto accidents. Go here.

“A B can mean many things”: lamenting the absence of the plus/minus grading option

It’s finals week, and I’ve got half a dozen stacks of blue books spread about my office. If every one of my students takes a final, I will have 339 exams to read through by next Tuesday. I will have 339 final grades to assign.

At PCC, as at most California community colleges, we aren’t permitted to use “+” and “-” modifiers on final grades. Leaving aside the tiny percentage of incompletes, and the equally tiny number of students who take a course “Credit/No-Credit”, all of my students will receive an A,B,C, D, or F. That leaves me only three real passing grades (D is technically passing, but I give few Ds) from which to choose.

What’s maddening is, of course, that students don’t fall neatly into three discrete categories. This is especially true, I note, of the B students. (I give slightly more Cs than Bs, and far fewer As.) The student who just barely missed an A gets the identical grade as a student who just barely avoided a C. Because I can’t give a “B+” and a “B-”, two students who did very different work each end up receiving the exact same mark; each receives a 3.0 on the standard American 4.0 grade scale. And the problem is true with other grades as well; the student who just barely gets an A receives the same 4.0 as the rare gem of a student who did flawless work of the “A+” variety.

Starting in the mid-1990s, the state began to permit the community colleges to assign “+” and “-” grades. The college had to decide as a whole to offer the option to all of its instructors. The University of California system has offered the modifiers for decades, and I was thrilled when we heard we would have a shot at the option. To my amazement, my colleagues in the Academic Senate here at Pasadena City College voted overwhelmingly to reject the plus/minus option. They complained — as Jessica Valenti would say, “I shit you not” –that taking on the plus/minus option would increase faculty work-loads!

The Senate was also lobbied by our student government, who worried that the modifiers would be more likely to reduce student GPAs than to raise them. Our student body president at the time said, with extraordinary chutzpah, “A lot of my As were barely As. If I had A- grades instead of straight A grades, I’d have a lower GPA.” (On the 4.0 system, an A- would be a 3.7, a B+ a 3.3, a B a 3.0, a B- a 2.7, a C+ a 2.3, etcetera.) I protested that I might consider giving an A- to a student to whom I would otherwise give a B, largely because I didn’t think they’d done A level work, but might be deserving of a modified A. And the number of B+ grades given would also help balance out student GPAs. In practice, student GPAs wouldn’t change at all — they would simply be more reliable indicators of achievement, as faculty would have greater precision.

Alas, faculty laziness and resistance to change — combined with intense lobbying from a small group of students worried about the spectre of the A-minus grade — served to block the implementation of the modifier option at PCC. It’s made my job much harder, and my final grades much less fair. Because I have so few final grade options, and because my students turn in such a wide range of work, A “B” from me, frankly, means a wide range of things and describes a range of abilities. And that’s not right.

Thursday Short Poem: Milne’s “King John’s Christmas”

The traditional pre-Christmas poem is always this AA Milne classic. I’ll be on a short holiday hiatus from December 19-26, and the Thursday Short Poem will return December 27.

King John’s Christmas


King John was not a good man –
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air –
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.

King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.

King John was not a good man,
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They’d given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.

King John was not a good man,
He lived his live aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
“TO ALL AND SUNDRY - NEAR AND FAR -
F. Christmas in particular.”
And signed it not “Johannes R.”
But very humbly, “Jack.”

“I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don’t mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!”

King John was not a good man –
He wrote this message out,
And gat him to this room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
“I think that’s him a-coming now!”
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
“He’ll bring one present, anyhow –
The first I had for years.”

“Forget about the crackers,
And forget the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!”

King John was not a good man,
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly: “As I feared,
Nothing again for me!”

“I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts!
I haven’t got a pocket-knife —
Not one that cuts.
And, oh! if Father Christmas, had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red,
india-rubber ball!”

King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all …
When through the window big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india-rubber ball!

And oh Father Christmas,
My blessings on you fall
For bringing him a big, red,
India-rubber ball!

It’s very fine.

The next right thing? Pink.

If the first post of the day was on the theme of “doing the next right thing”, the second deals with a small practical tip from Jeff at Feminist Allies: What Men Can Do: Resist Gender Essentialism (with Accessories!) Jeff was inspired by Melissa’s remark, regarding the seemingly never-ending struggle for gender justice: All I ever do is try to empty the sea with this teaspoon; all I can do is keep trying to empty the sea with this teaspoon.

One of Jeff’s “teaspoons” is his phone:

And it got me to thinking about one of the themes of feminism for me:Small Daily Acts of Feminism. I tend to think that (1)The ‘little’ things are often only seemingly little and (2)Lots of (seemingly) little things add up. Take, for instance, my little pink phone.

Jeff has a picture of his little pink phone.

I’m with Jeff wholeheartedly here. No, Jeff’s pink phone isn’t going to save the world. But as he does point out, it does start a lot of conversations where good can happen. I don’t have a pink phone, but as anyone who looks through my Flickr or Facebook albums can attest, I wear a lot of pink shirts. And I wince when I hear people say things like “Real Men Wear Pink”; I prefer “pink is for everyone”. A willingness to subvert common assumptions about gender is always helpful, especially when that subversion is simple and elegant.

Hurrah for pink on all of us. It’s one of my favorite colors (along with yellow, which I can’t wear), and it has been a staple of my wardrobe for a long time. My fondness for pink isn’t evidence of virtue — but if it inspires any reflection in anyone at all about gender essentialism, then it’s one more teaspoonful.

Now I must go buy garbage bags: a note on “doing the NEXT right thing”

In my post on Monday about teachers who had touched my life, I left out — quite accidentally — the two “sponsors” who guided me through the Twelve-Step program over many years. “Jenia B.” and “Jack K.” loved me, nurtured me, and talked sense to me. it was through them that I learned some basic tools for how to live.

I was thinking about Jenia and Jack this morning as I read through John Spragge’s comments beneath this post. John writes:

Seriously, I don’t object to the notion of changing our thinking and behaviour; I only object to the notion that you or anyone else can tell us how to think and feel. Tell us what works for you, if you like, but don’t indulge the illusion that it will work for everyone else.

I have several problems with what John says here, but I’ve already addressed some of them in this post.

What John reminded me of is something my old sponsor Jack K. was fond of saying to me: “Hugo, just do the next right thing.” Not just the “right thing”, but the “next right thing.” Early on in my recovery, this was a vital tool. During the summer of 1998, for example, when I was just days and weeks removed from a serious suicide attempt and on the cusp of a dramatic conversion, I told myself to “do the next right thing” at least a dozen times a day.

During that strange, marvelous summer — the summer where I once and for all made the decision to live rather than to die — I had to think through the smallest actions. When the alarm went off in the morning, and I had to decide whether to get up and go to an early Twelve Step meeting or stay in bed, I would ask myself “Hugo, what is the next right thing to do?” And the answer usually was: “Get out of bed, put on some clothes, make some coffee, go to the meeting.” Once or twice it was: “Today, you’re exhausted. Stay in bed.”

When I found myself in a “slippery situation”, I asked myself the same question. During that summer and fall of ‘98, I took the first vow of voluntary celibacy of my adult life. A few weeks into that period, I ran into an old “friend with benefits” on the street. Every corpuscle in my system longed to “connect” with her in the familiar way. And I asked myself, almost frantically, what the “next right thing” to do was — and found, to my amazement, that I was able to excuse myself from our flirtatious conversation and complete my errands. The next right thing that day had been to go and buy garbage bags, and the thought “Now I must go buy garbage bags” was what enabled me to walk away from a very tempting situation.

It’s been nearly a decade since I first relied on this tool to survive. These days, my inner compass is much more reliable, and my susceptability to stupid, self-destructive decisions is much lower. But I still use the “next right thing” tool to get me through. Now, it’s less about avoiding drugs, alcohol, and unethical sex than it is about making justice-based choices. When I go to the market, I ask myself: “what is the next right thing to buy?” I know, for example, that I really want coffee. I like certain kinds of coffee, so my own wants are part of the “right” decision. I also know that I want to spend my money as “rightly” as possible, and that means buying coffee that has been certified free-trade, shade-grown, and so forth. Thus the “next right thing” is to find the place where my wants and the world’s needs intersect.

I look for this intersection in every aspect of my life: how I eat, how I teach, how I interact with others in personal relationships. Sometimes, what I want and what the right thing to do is have no easy intersection. When I’m tired and a student asks me a really appallingly dumb question, I want to wring his or her neck — or at least make a witty and cruel remark. But most of the time, I swallow that anger and exasperation and find something supportive to say instead. The “next right thing” is often about redirecting certain of my impulses; it’s usually about being slightly less selfish and a bit more generous.

The “next right thing” is thus not about self-denial. It’s about finding that sweet spot between my deepest desires and the needs of the other creatures with whom I interact. It does require a certain amount of self-awareness, as well as a willingness to ask others to point out “blind spots”. But I can’t help but feel that the world would be a good deal better off if we all applied the “next right thing” model to our lives.

Every dollar I spend is a vote for the kind of world I want to see. Every word I speak, every action I take, has an impact — however slight — on others. Constant mindfulness is a tool for change. And I’m comfortable exhorting others to be equally mindful, even if they end up seeing the “next right thing” as something very different. This isn’t Puritanical self-absorbtion; rather’s it’s a tool for living justly and kindly. And it’s a tool that honors individual perspectives about what the “next right thing” is.

Caption contest

From a party on Sunday night.

“Addled, deceived, and confused”: Neuhaus on women who seek abortion

This past summer, both Anna Quindlen and Jill Filipovic posed a question for the pro-life community: assuming that abortion is someday outlawed in this country, how much time in prison should a woman who obtains an abortion receive? (I can find the link to Jill’s piece, but not Quindlen’s.) It’s an important question to ask of those who seek to outlaw abortion; nothing can be banned, after all, without criminalizing those who flout the ban. And it forces those who support making abortion illegal to be honest about their long-term intentions.
Jill wrote:

How much time should doctors do?

Do you support executing doctors who perform abortions?

Do you support jailing them for life? For a few decades?

How do we justify prosecuting doctors for performing abortions, but not the women who pay them to perform the abortion? Are there other situations in which a person can pay another person to commit an illegal act — an illegal act that allegedly takes a human life — and not be held culpable?

What about women who self-induce their own abortions, without the aid of a doctor? Do they qualify as illegal abortionists? Should they be prosecuted?

How can it possibly be legally (or even morally) consistent to attach full rights to a fetus and then treat its death as somehow less important, or different, than the death of a born person? Is a fetus’s death less important, or different, than the death of a born person?

I write about this today because Richard John Neuhaus throws out an answer in the January ‘08 issue of First Things (available online only to subscribers). Neuhaus:

Quindlen goes on to contend that, if pro-­lifers were consistent, they would demand that the woman procuring the abortion, along with the abortionist, would be criminally prosecuted. “State statutes that propose punishing only a physician suggest that the woman was merely some addled bystander who ­happened to find herself in the wrong stirrups at the wrong time.” Certainly not a bystander. Addled perhaps, as in confused, conflicted, conscience-stricken—and deceived by the addled arguments advanced by such as Anna Quindlen. The abortionist, on the other hand, knows what he is doing in his chosen line of work. As has been said ten thousand times over, in an abortion there are two victims: the child and the woman.

Bold emphasis mine.

I always enjoy reading Neuhaus, and am often provoked and challenged by how well he makes the case for his deeply reactionary views. But he falls down badly here. First of all, last time I checked, a great many doctors are women — Neuhaus’ use of the male pronoun here is not accidental, as it suits his weltanschauung to imagine that most physicians performing abortions are men. I sense it’s easier to imagine jailing the doctors who perform abortions when our imagination tells us that they are middle-aged white men presumably just “in it for the buck.” Continue reading ‘“Addled, deceived, and confused”: Neuhaus on women who seek abortion’

Fem Watch 1

The rich, challenging, sometimes heartbreaking internecine conflicts in the feminist blogosphere have produced fine prose, fine poetry, and now, terrific video. Sudy, of A Woman’s Ecdysis, offers a hilarious — and devastating — take on the state of the feminist blogosphere, particularly as it relates to race. Here’s the Youtube link.

Teachers, heroes, mentors: a meme

The newest carnival of the feminists is up here.

J.K Gayle at Speakeristic tags me with a meme: name the thirteen teachers or mentors who most influenced your life, and offer a brief explanation of how they did so. The teachers can be professors, parents, or long-dead writers whose work has shaped you. Here goes:

1. E. Alison Moore Schwyzer, my mother. I see so much of the world through her eyes still; she gave me a love of poetry, a love of history, and a love of the spoken word. Hers were the first lectures I heard (on long car trips, she gave her two boys and their dachsund the same lectures she gave to her classes at Monterey Peninsula College), and I still often find myself imitating her style.

2. Hubert Rudolf Georg Schwyzer, my late father. He taught me many things, but mostly that masculinity and gentleness are indeed deeply compatible, and that in the end, decency and beauty and love are what matter most. I sat in on many of his lectures at UCSB and elsewhere over the years, and some of his mannerisms have made it into my style.

3. Margaret Roeding Moore Chickering, my maternal grandmother. “Peggy”, as she was known, was a renaissance woman. She taught me how to write sincere and witty thank-you notes; how to load and shoot a .22 rifle; how to plant bulbs; how to master a complex table setting. Equally at home riding trails on horseback or hosting a Junior League tea, she taught me that duty and joy were not mutually exclusive. And that’s a wonderful lesson to learn.

4. Elisabeth von Schuh Schwyzer, my paternal grandmother. “Elsa” was born in Vienna at the dawn of the twentieth century. She was a relentless bundle of energy and of shifting opinions, an impetuous, inexhaustible woman, she had been a passionate adolescent Communist; a close and devoted lifelong friend to the philosopher Karl Popper; a farm wife who milked cows and raised hogs in rural England. She wasn’t Jewish, but she married my grandfather, who was. His conversion to Catholicism wasn’t enough to protect the family after Hitler’s takeover of Austria, and it was her determination that enabled them to make their way to safe haven in Britain. She returned to Vienna after the war, and worked as a teacher into her late 80s. Continue reading ‘Teachers, heroes, mentors: a meme’

“When you are persecuted… flee”: some thoughts on the Gospel and domestic violence

I’ve been catching up on my reading, and just this weekend got around to perusing the summer 2007 edition of “E-Quality“, the online journal of Christians for Biblical Equality, an organization of which I am an enthusiastic supporter. This past summer’s issue focused on the church and domestic abuse, and included this short and stirring piece by Gerald W. Ford: Tolerating and Staying: How a theology of female submission contributes to the prevalence of women tolerating and staying in violent situations.

One of the classic feminist critiques of traditional Christian theology has been the troubling tendency to glorify suffering. Too often, women who are being abused are told that their suffering is redemptive. They are encouraged to stay with violent partners, often with the suggestion that by continuing to endure pain and abuse, they are being more “Christlike.” In this short piece, Ford argues that this is a profound distortion of the Gospel:

I frequently hear women, and a few men, who say that they are suffering in their marriage but they see it as suffering for Christ. They stay because they can view their suffering as something they are doing for the greater cause; it’s what Christians do, they say. Yet suffering is not the core of Christianity, it is only an experience which will sometimes accompany the true core of Christianity, which is the Christ-like life. To be like Jesus may include suffering, but it also includes much more.

We must ask the question of whether Jesus suffered always, or if he had some boundaries of his own for when, for what cause, and how much he would suffer. A review of the Gospels will reveal many situations in which Jesus did not suffer silently, did not allow abusive behavior to go unchallenged, and gave his followers instruction to move away from rejection.

The idea of Jesus “having boundaries” seems anachronistic, but Ford builds his argument on Matthew 10:12-23, where the idea of the Great Commission begins to appear. Ford doesn’t say as much as I’d like him to, but I’m struck by these two verses and what they might mean for women in abusive situations:

If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake the dust off your feet when you leave that home or town… When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.

When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another. Reading that this weekend was galvanizing. I’ve known this passage for years, read it dozens of times, but never thought of its implications: we are not called to endure persecution silently. We are allowed, and indeed, commanded, to leave violent situations. When partnered with an abuser, it is not our role as Christians to suffer silently, praying that God will change a violent temperament. Persecution for the sake of justice may indeed be inevitable — the Gospel makes that clear. But persecution in one’s own home, whether by parent or spouse, is never God’s will. Suffering at the hands of a spouse is not Christian martyrdom, and Matthew 10:23 makes it clear that sometimes, we’re called to leave.

I am aware that many in the church still regard divorce as a sin. But I think that sometimes the failure to divorce can be sinful as well. When we stay with an abuser, or someone who is chronically unfaithful, our willingness to remain in relationship with them validates and affirms their behavior. If we don’t show a cheater or an abuser that there are consequences for their repeated failures then we fail in one of our key spousal roles: to be a witness to and a facilitator of our partner’s continued spiritual growth. Indeed, by staying in a violent or chronically unfaithful relationship, we make two errors: we fail to hold our partner accountable, and we fail to value ourselves as God values us. If we believe in God, we must believe He loves us. If we do not love ourselves enough to prioritize our own safety and our own right to pursue happiness, we tell God He’s made a mistake about us and our true worth.

Ford writes that we need to “come to grips with the fact that theology affects lives.” That makes very good sense. Those of us who call ourselves Christians must realize that how we interpret Scripture has a very real impact on those around us, particularly those who look to us as role models. For centuries, priests and pastors have used Bible verses to encourage women to stay in abusive situations, counseling them that their suffering is part of the Christian life. Those of us who value women’s lives, women’s bodies, and women’s happiness have an obligation to interpret Scripture more responsibly. And a responsible and sound interpretation of the Gospel tells us that when we’re being physically or verbally abused, the best course is to flee.

Jane Rule, 1931-2007

Apparently others saw the obituaries earlier, but both the big New York and Los Angeles papers just printed Jane Rule’s death notice in today’s editions. Rule was the author of Desert of the Heart (which was turned into the marvelous “Desert Hearts”, a 1985 film in which my cousin Dean played a key role). For that work alone, Rule became an iconic lesbian literary figure. But my favorite novel of hers is a much less well-known book, Memory Board. I’ve read it and reread it many times, and found it not only deeply moving, but immensely comforting. It’s one of perhaps only half-a-dozen books I re-read every year or two, and it would make the list of my ten favorite novels ever written in the English language. I’ll re-read it again this holiday season.

WAM 2008, and a chance to meet heroes and friends

I’ve been a small part of the feminist blogosphere for some four years now, but haven’t met very many of the amazing folks who do what we do. That’s going to change early next spring, as I’m signing up for the Women, Action, and the Media conference to be held in late March in Cambridge, MA. Of course, I made the decision to go much too late, and thus missed the deadline for panel proposals. But I’ll be there as a fan, as a blogger, as a teacher, eager to connect with and learn from an all-star cast that includes most of the luminaries of our blogging world: Amanda Marcotte, Jessica Valenti, Brownfemipower, Garance Franke-Ruta, Lisa Jervis, Courtney Martin and many, many others. And with veteran White House correspondent Helen Thomas offering the keynote, it should be a terrific and exciting event. I’ve been to a lot of academic conferences in my day, but never to anything like what this promises to be. I’m excited.

Sign up and join me there!

Sex worker bodies, farm worker bodies: a musing on agriculture, porn, and cheap grace

In the midst of the latest round of debates over sex here in the progressive blogosphere, I was struck by BrownFemiPower’s post about the kinds of oppression we sometimes ignore in our eagerness to focus on pornography.

I’m very very *very* tired of how sex work is framed as a labor issue by many anti-pornography activists–they chronically insist that porn is the worst worst worst job ever because it hurts females.

I hear this logic, and all I can think is, “Really?”

I’ve known women who have had to work 12-15 (or more) hours a day in 100+ degree heat with no breaks for water and no place to pee (I was one of those women). I’ve known women who have had to work on their knees the entire 12-15 hour shift (or in a squatting position), with a bag that digs into their backs and can carry 20-25 pounds of vegetables or fruits. I’ve known women who can not kneel at mass because their knees are so shot from the hard labor they’ve done most of their lives. I’ve known women who have worked in the fields since they were five or six. I’ve seen pregnant women, elderly women, young girls, disabled women all forced to walk up to two miles (after 12 or 15 hour days) to get back to their cars so they can go home.

I know women are being exposed to some of the most dangerous chemicals known to mankind. I know young girls are working in fields rather than going to school because their mothers aren’t being paid enough for the job that they do. I know women are being locked up and only allowed to leave the farms for up to two hours a week. I know women are working for wages that have not increased in 27 years. I know women who go to company doctors after exposure to pesticide clouds are being told that they have ‘female problems’ (rather than pesticide poisoning). I know women are giving birth to babies that die because of pesticide exposure. I know women are out digging ditches 20 days after they give birth. I know women are being sexually harassed by field bosses. I know young girls are being sexually harassed by field bosses. I know 90% of the female farmworkers in California say that sexual intimidation and harassment is a major problem at their jobs. I know women refer(ed) to a field in California as the “field of panties” because so many women were raped there. I know women are being threatened with guns by their field bosses.

At BFP’s, these last two paragraphs are filled with links that document what’s going on. Continue reading ‘Sex worker bodies, farm worker bodies: a musing on agriculture, porn, and cheap grace’