I am not a 'good girl'

Is there a particular phrase  drives you barmy with rage? I have one. I heard it just now. I was in the chemist and a gruff older dude stomped in in his work boots and asked for a script he'd dropped in earlier. The neat, pony-tailed assistant said "I'll just get it for you" and he responded "Good girl".

Good girl. 

Honestly, have you ever thought of saying this to a grown woman? Here's a tip. DON'T. I felt so mad for her. She politely continued on with her business and didn't seem to be mad, but then I usually react in a similar way because of MANNERS and POWER DYNAMICS relating to AGE. Because I don't hear it from anyone younger than me, or even those who are my contemporaries. Nope.

Being told "Good girl" is an unfortunate reality from time to time, and each and every time it's said to me it fills me with rage, and chips away at any respect I have for the person saying it. It's the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head, and every bit as patronising. It is said in a number of contexts, and as with the chemist today, I'm sorry to say that most of them are in the workplace, where you would hope that things like age and gender would just be left out of it. 

The first situation in which it's often said relates to me having just performed some entirely basic and ordinary task that would be seen as merely minimum functioning in any adult with a normal intellect. This might be remembering to bring a document to a meeting, or something equally innocuous. Telling me I'm a good girl in this kind of circumstance is so utterly demeaning, because it implies that something that really ought to be assumed in even a mediocre employee making a nod towards professionalism is being rewarded to me.  Would you say "good boy" to a grown man in the same situation? So for fuck's sake don't say it to me. (Seriously, if you answered 'yes' to this you need to go take a good hard look in the mirror). Just say thanks with all the decorum and brevity that the situation calls for, in a manner that acknowledges that I am in fact a professional and capable of really basic shit even though I am, like, female. Like the chick in the chemist today.

The second situation is where I've actually performed above and beyond in some way or another. "Oh good girl" I'll be told. No. Not fucking good girl. Guess what - the reason Ive performed so well and been able to impress you is probably because I'm a lot smarter than you. I'm sorry to come across as arrogant but seriously, my IQ is probably higher than yours despite me being younger, and being told "good girl" by you just makes me seethe. You know what else? I work hard. I've got many years of study under my belt, and even more of workforce experience. I'm an adult. I'm 30 goddam years old. So between my age, my intellect and my hard work, I would like to be treated as a professional in a professional environment. IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?!

These are some of the things I will think if you call me a "good girl". Just so you know.

This includes you Tony *fuckface* Abbott.

RANT ENDED

NB If you are a complete moron, here is a basic test you can use to work out whether it's appropriate to say "good girl" to someone. 

Q Would you say "good boy" it to a man your own age in this situation?

A Then don't say "good girl" to me.

Banning the burqa: Racism in feminist clothing

The 'debate' about potentially banning the burqa in Australia is very troubling to me. Many people have jumped on this bandwagon recently in the name of Freedom, Democracy, Feminism, Equality, Civic Responsibility and goodness knows what else.  And I haven't agreed with a single one of them on the issue.


I've agreed with a lot of the objections to the burqa. I find the implication that one's appearance can offend your peers or your God pretty offensive. But then, I'm an atheist. And I don't think society is objecting to religion. Just Islam. But an individual objection to something (hello Southern Cross tattoos) is different to banning it. Banning something takes individual values that are acknowledged as having place in society (religious, family, aesthetic) and making them universal. It is handpicking one set of difference and saying that we don't want that here.  The arguments being put forward for the burqa being an unacceptable difference are masquerading as libertarian and feminist and democratic.  And I posit that they are not, they are racist. So let's look at some that have been prominent lately, and I'll show you why.


One argument is that by covering the hair/face, women are concealing important aspects of their identity. They are not fully participating as citizens. Well tough shit I say. I can walk into a bank wearing sunglasses. Or a hood. When my hair was long I would wrap it up into a scarf to clean the house or simply on hot days. Eastern European and Mediterranean women will wear headscarves.  African women will wear headscarves. Indian and Asian and Anglo women will wear headscarves. So why just ban Islamic headscarves? Uh, that would be racism.


A further argument is that the burqa carries a symbolic element that is offensive to women, as exposing the head/hair is considered to offend god and man in Islam. Well I happen to agree that this is a daft notion. Did I mention I'm an athiest? But Jews do it with their skull caps, nuns do it with their habits. So do you want to rip the habit from a nun in the name of her freedom? I don't see anyone ranting about these other forms of religious coverings in the newspapers or suggesting for a moment we should make it illegal for these other groups. Only Muslims. That's racism.


There are people arguing against it on the grounds of feminism. That many women would prefer not to wear a burqa but are forced to by their family and community. In righteous feminist outrage, these advocates want to remove the shackles of this oppression by making it illegal. 

Well I put it to you that the people advocating on these grounds are not giving one toss about women in this situation. Because they will only be further oppressed and excluded by a ban on the burqa. They will not be able to leave the house, and their freedom will be further curtailed. Honestly this argument of 'freeing' women by banning the burqa is the most selfish and stupid of the lot. The only people it will make feel better is the rest of us. The white priveleged people who will no longer have to squirm and feel uncomfortable when a burqa clad lady gets on the tram. The ones who refuse to allow that some women are choosing to dress that way as an expression of their ideological conviction. Banning the burqa is not about feminism, and it's not about freedom. It's about one group of people deciding what makes them feel comfortable, and imposing it on another group of people. Again, racist much?


This doesn't mean that I don't think that we, as a society, should try to tackle religious and sexist values that result in women being forced to dress in a way they do not wish. We absolutely should do that. But banning the burqa doesn't do this at all. It doesn't involve any engagement with the people who would enforce it. It only punishes the women who are already oppressed through having to wear it, and punishes those who have freedom and use it to choose to wear it. Discuss the burqa. Discuss with the people who think it's important. There are knotty issues wrapped up in there. Confront them in dialogue. Don't ban it.

And if anyone wants to go down the road of 'how free is the choice of the women who are choosing it?', well good for you, it's a damned important question. But don't pretend for a second that any of us aren't making value-laden peer pressured choices all the time. Of course we are. We have freedoms, but they are not absolute, not for any of us. I've yet to see one commentator acknowledge this fact.

If I had my way, then I wouldn't wear clothes in Summer. At all. I would get my tattoo out at work and in front of my grandmother. How is this different from a young woman who covers her hair in front of her relatives? The outcomes for me might be less severe if I transgressed these norms, but I choose to follow them because it makes my life easier, it makes my grandmother happier. Is it a loaded choice? Of course. Do I wish the conservative people in society could cope with my having a tattoo? Absolutely. Do I wish that conservative Muslims could cope with the exposed heads and hair of their female relatives? Darned tootin. But for society to BAN it? To make it illegal? How is this anything other than a socially sanctioned punishment for a difference that we can't tolerate. How dare we call ourselves multicultural or diverse and entertain such a notion?

Do I have a problem with women being forced to wear a burqa? Yes.

Do I have a problem with a woman freely choosing to wear a burqa? No. 

Can I know how free the choice is of a woman I know nothing about, beyond what she's wearing? No.


So what are we left with? The burqa oppresses some women. Undoubtedly. And banning it? Oh wait, that is a problem and will oppress women. Yep. 

Let's recap. Burqa = oppressive.  Banning the burqa = oppressive. The difference between the two options? White people feel better about themselves.

So why would we ban it, when every objection to it has its counterpart in other religions and social norms? Um, because we're racist?... 

NB My friend Beck has pointed out (see comments) that the burqa is a full body covering, as distinct from a hijab which is a headscarf. Thanks for clarifying Becky.

Cherchez la Femme - Part 2

Ok, so I utterly failed at writing up Cherchez la Femme the next day. And yes, I am a lazy and haphazard blogger. Also, beyond an immediate whole-hearted endorsement of the evening, as I pondered the event, and discussed some of the ideas with friends and loved ones over the following view days, it took me some time to organise my thoughts. For feminism is complex, it operates in many different spheres simultaneously: personal, professional, social. It touches on understandings of free will, and the role of the environment in shaping subconscious associations, and how you understand yourself as an agent in the world. The degree of responsibility you feel towards others. And I am constantly flummoxed by the murky and mysterious ways in which these ways of knowing and of being interact. As someone dear pointed out to me recently when genuinely curious as to why I would feel so strongly about a feminist cause, my life doesn't show any signs of having experienced disadvantage based on my gender. So why am I so upset?

But I don't want to have an emotional or intellectual outpouring here, nor get too philosophical. Nor will I go into the detail of the night itself. Mel has already done so as articulately as anyone could wish. I enjoyed the night thoroughly, and thought it entirely worthwhile. That said, I'll be honest, I wanted some answers from Cherchez la Femme, and I didn't get them. I got a lot of ideas to ponder instead. And later on, I got questioned about the case for feminism and female disadvantage. Because all the women at Cherchez la Femme were educated, employed, stylish, assertive.

And so the best possible response I can offer to anyone, man or woman, who may wonder what need there is for feminism in our Australian society today, is a simple imaginary exercise.

• Imagine you have grown up in this world a girl. 
• Think about what things adults might have said to you as a child. How important is it to be told you're pretty? How often do you hear that, as opposed to some other praise?
• Imagine you wanted to run around and get muddy and swear and yell. How might that have been responded to by your parents and teachers?
• Imagine reading some of the most exciting profound literature of your youth about wondrous worlds beyond your door. What do the men in these books do? How about the women? How many of the adventurers and protagonists and heroes are men? You're not one.
• Imagine the schoolyard and fighting for the sought after downball courts. Would you win them? What would it take?
• Imagine going into the 7-Eleven to get some milk for your Mum pretty regularly. You pass newspapers, chocolate bars, and a rack of magazines with breasts all over them. You're only little, do you stop and wonder why there are no magazines with men on them? Or is it simply that those ladies are pretty?
• Imagine learning history at school. History is the story of things men have done. There aren't really any women in history. No one seems to notice. You don't. At least, not yet.
• Imagine that despite playing sport all week, when you turn on the television all the players are men. You're not one.
• Imagine being at high school.  Imagine you always do better on tests than the person you have a huge crush on. Do you think he's cool with this?
• You're told to be polite and ladylike to your superiors. You're told that this will be necessary if you want to get ahead in the world. You're told it's not fair but it's just the way it is. Polite and ladylike means non-confrontational.
• Imagine the hierarchy of popularity amongst your friends is determined by their degree of popularity with the opposite sex. As in, whoever the boys like best is who the girls will also defer to. If you haven't already, you may start to say to yourself, what the fuck?
• Imagine that you're not allowed to do things your brother is because you're more likely to be assaulted. Everyone acknowledges that it's not your fault that you're more vulnerable. But you have to take responsibility for it. You are told to dress modestly, act discreetly, not take risks. People say this because they love and care for you. Truly. Who then is left to complain to?
• Imagine that critiquing the bodies of your gender is a passtime that is done by your friends, your peers, the media and society both publicly and fairly constantly. 
• Imagine reaching for the new remote and trying the wrong button, only to have it gently but firmly taken from you before you even get a chance to look at it twice.
• Imagine a world in which young women will opt to be photographed in porn-style poses for a clothing store or a website; they find it empowering. You know you're not a kill-joy that you wouldn't find it empowering at all, but others may not see it that way. But many of those others are the intended consumers of those images, and you are not.
• Imagine you can get a job as easily as a man can. Imagine knowing that despite working your arse off and being damned good at your job, you are paid statistically less than you would be in the exact same role if you were a man. Your boss would be offended if you suggested as much to him. Probably almost every woman's boss would be. But the women are still paid less, including you.
• You're less likely to be promoted regardless of performance. Your reproductive organs make you a risk to a business, regardless of your plans for them. This is fairly commonly accepted.
• You're less likely to both have a family and reach the upper echelons of your field. Your partner isn't.

Please, if you haven't already, imagine some or all of these things.  Imagine that you are generally very happy. You are in a loving relationship of equals. You are respected by your friends, colleagues and family. You work hard. You have fun. And you have a problem with the way the female gender is constituted in the world. This is what it is for me to be a feminist. It isn't always angry and ranty, but sometimes it is. It isn't whingy and it isn't anti-fun, unless your idea of fun requires an imbalance of power. It isn't blaming the men or the women of our generation for creating these power dynamics, but it does require the men and women of our generation to take some responsibility for changing it, and for men this means changing it away from their advantage. It is an act of recognition that there remains a problem. 

So do it. Imagine you have grown up, and live, as a woman in the world. And then tell me whether there's still a need for feminism in Australia.

Cherchez la femme

Tomorrow night I'm going along to Cherchez la femme. It's the first of a monthly series my excellent friend Karen has organised as a soiree to discuss feminist issues, and I am very proud of her for having the chutzpah to get something like this started.

I'm not quite sure what to expect. So many of my attempts to participate in a feminist dialogue end in disillusionment and frustration, and yes anger, at the dogma that can often dominate these discourses. But here's what I'm hoping for tomorrow:

• I'm hoping to meet assertive intelligent women. 
• I'm hoping there'll be lots of men there. I know so many men that I would call progressive, and would call themselves progressive, but I honestly don't know how many would be likely to opt to spend their Tuesday nights participating in the issues directly in this kind of forum. I'm guessing not many.
• I'm hoping that there'll be genuine heterogeny, a vast difference of experience and opinion, and that the only thing people are agreeing on is the fundamental drive for equality of opportunity for women, with all the nuances that can entail. 
• I'm hoping to laugh and have a few beers.
• I'm hoping for acceptance without conformity.

I'll report back tomorrow.

Get It Out, Prudes!, or The Sexualisation of Nudity

Today as I wheeled my lame and punctured bike home, I passed an Islamic couple (I assume, since she was covered top to toe in a traditional fashion), and I was all too aware that they both averted their gaze down and away as they passed me in my bare-legged short summery skirted attire. There was no open disdain, but there was a deliberate aversion.


I always feel hyper-conscious of this kind of reaction. But today it actually bothered me. Not because these people seemed to be judging me. Indeed I doubt if they gave me two seconds thought. But I wanted to turn around and shout "C'mon! They're just legs. I'm using them for walking! Just like 'he' is." I certainly didn't want them ogled. They are hardly remarkable as legs go, nor text book examples of sexy legs.


And the whole episode got me thinking about prudishness, religious or otherwise. Here's my thoughts in a rambly nutshell:


Prudishness offends me because it assumes that my naked body is a sexualised body. It does not allow my naked body to be anything other than a sexual object. Whether this is the 'morally overlaid' prudishness of religious doctrine (I use inverted commas because I do not think that religion equates to morality), or the prudishness of the friends who don't want you to see them get changed, they all seem to me to be slices of the same pie, the difference is one of degree. 


I can't sunbathe topless on the beach because my breasts are always always always assumed to be sexualised in our society. To the man and woman I passed on the street today, my bare legs were equally sexualised. I think they're just legs. I also think they're just breasts. Don't even get me started on the whole limitations-on-public-breastfeeding stupidity.

This prudishness makes me resentful for a number of reasons.


1. Prudishness places the responsibility for the sexualisation of women's bodies on women. 

It is my responsibility to display my body appropriately, given mens' assumed inability to stay cool headed around breasts, and possibly legs and hair as well depending on where you sit on the subject. It is not assumed to be mens' responsibility to be able to refrain from harassment or assault if there are breasts around. Perhaps not legally, but colloquially, most people seem to think this is true (maybe not right, but true). I allow that there are times, places, contexts in which my body will be sexual. And to some people more than others. But mostly all those bits of my body are either functional or negligable in terms of their contribution to my interaction with the world and the people in it.

2. Some women who buy into arguments for prudishness where the female form is concerned particularly bother me, as they are implicitly demanding that their naked form be sexualised. I often see this as a manifestation of sexual insecurity, that such a woman can't accept or allow that no one cares that she just flashed her undies, or 'popped out' of her top - she insists it's a big deal.  It demands sexual attention simply for the act of physically being. I think this is a bit lame, as a rule.



RANT ENDED

Disney Princesses: A half-arsed feminist analyis

So, the other night, I was unable to sleep, and so I did that which I'd been lamely threatening to do for some time: I sat up and watched Beauty and the Beast on YouTube. Someone has kindly uploaded the film in nine chapters (and chapter nine is just final credits).

It was awesome. The only downside was that it was 1am and I felt it would be unneighbourly to my aurally long-suffering housemates to sing along to the Gaston song with all the gusto it assuredly deserves. I just mouthed the words and grinned and slapped my thigh a lot. And I pretended that cartoon Gaston was real life Hugh Jackman. Which is a totally normal thing to do by the way.

And, I also cried - not least because I was too stressed out to sleep. But also because of how awesome Belle is, and how her love prevailed against the odds. The odds being the beastliness of her paramour, ostracism from her entire world and some pretty severe past wrongs done to her by Mr Beasty.

Anyhoo, all of this is tangential to what I actually wanted to write about, which is how the Disney Princesses of the 1990s - particularly The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin, all offer at least one glimmer of positive role-modelness for little girls. And by little girls, I mean me as a little girl, mostly.

You see, I was never especially girly. I always dirty, shouty, and quick to resist any hint of gender inequality. Anything boys could do I could do better, or at least do without having to wear a ridiculous dress. So it's interesting that I loved these movies so much when they came out.

Admittedly, I am one for a bit of a song and dance. But I would still loathe the dancers if they were in any way weak or pathetic (I give you exhibit A - Sandy from Grease). And admittedly, Disney princesses all end up with their men, who save them dramatically at least once a film. So let's not get carried away with the whole Disney as advocate for women's rights or anything.

But, let's recall that watching these movies I was a young and extremely curious and restless child living in the suburban no-mans-land which is Heathmont. That's the Heathmont that's between Ringwood and Bayswater. Heathmont, where your schoolmates grow to marry your other schoolmates and progenate young because they all belong to the happy-clappy church and they purchase houses a few streets from their parents house and the whole thing goes on again.

The thing that resonated most for me with these doe-eyed protagonists was that each of them wanted to escape! Escape the expectations of their family, or community or peers. And they wanted to escape beyond the horizons of their current world to discover new opportunities for themselves.

The development of this idea throughout the three movies is quite interesting to me as well. Ariel simply wants to be away from what she knows, and is inspired by her love for a handsome man from the world beyond the ocean. She finds her fulfilment by stepping into the shoes of a beautiful princess, and it is very much her beauty that gets her there (given that she essentially woos the Prince without her voice).

Belle more actively rejects the future proffered by life in a provincial town, where she would be expected to abandon her intellectual pursuits in order to find fulfilment as the wife of a brutish oaf, the ridiculously bulbous Gaston. Despite an eccentric father, Belle feels constrained by the world at large, and finds her happiness through a prince, yes, but not a handsome one. Belle is easily my favourite of the three because the catalyst of her adventure and ultimate happiness is not her beauty, but her bravery, kindness and character. It is these traits that pave the way for her to wind up in a fairytale castle with the finally handsome prince.

Princess Jasmine has the slightly different predicament of being trapped inside the palace - and she simply longs to get beyond the palace walls where she perceives a greater freedom (although the price of that freedom is poverty). Rather than leaving her world to run off and become a pauper's wife in order to keep her happiness with her beloved (I would LOVE to see Disney sell that one!) she manages to change her world in order to enable her happiness within it. Good work Jasmine!

So anyhoo, that is a small insight into why I love Disney movies. That and the songs.

An Extra Wife For Longer Life! Sing It With Me Now...

The Age Online, that most wonderful site of endless procrastination, today published an article entitled "Polygamists* Live Longer".

My thoughts:
Really? Wow. How utterly surprising and simply darned wonderful for them. I bet aristocrats and people with slaves and those enlightened adult men who still live with their mothers and subsequently never have to cook or clean or care for themselves (let alone another) probably do too! I wonder if anyone's done some similar research within cultures that don't acknowledge marital rape? Or fathers that don't acknowledge their children. That would be illuminating! Gosh, it just makes you think how much most of us are neglecting men. Frankly, we could all be doing more for men's well-being. Like stripping on command, and performing handjobs on public transport (the confinement is perfect for it). Honestly, there are just so many ways in which women could demean themselves for men, why stop at polygamy for a few extra years when we really ought to be shooting for male immortality?

Okay, so channelling Catherine Deveny a little bit and apologies for ranting, but for fucks...

Horrifyingly, there was no mention of women's life expectancy/quality of life/existence in this insightful piece of reportage.

* As far as this article is concerned, Polygamists = Men