News Flash: I Am a Woman

Weirdly enough, I’ve been spending a huge amount of time thinking about that. And all things gender related. It’s largely been the focus of my thought in a lot of ways. I’ve been having a ton of conversations with people here: other students – both women AND men, professors, God. Anywho, we have to write these bi-weekly papers called “memos” and read them aloud to our book discussion group. I wrote one a few weeks ago on all of this stuff when I was just beginning to get all fired up about it. It explains some of my basic thoughts pretty well:

Feminism. Gross. That word makes me shudder inside. If feminism was a tangible object, I would probably run as far away from it as I could. For me, it brings to mind women who frequently bash men, but have raging sex lives. It looks like long flowy skirts, obsessions with earrings, and judgmental conversation. It conjures up images of women who flaunt their bodies, wear low-cut shirts and shape or shave off every hair on their body and say they should be free to do so, to express their femininity. But who designed that femininity? Do they really think they’re free?

I know this is not really what feminism is, but much like the church leaves a sour taste for some people, feminism doesn’t sit right with me. Thus, when we were invited to a women’s lunch this week, I inwardly rolled my eyes and prepared to bear an hour of irrelevant estrogen-filled nothingness.
 

Yet when I walked out of Nancy’s house at the end of that hour, I was pissed. Not with what was said, but with myself, because everything that was said in that living room was true about me. Everything. And up until Tuesday, I had been bullshitting myself into thinking that I was free from all problems gender-related. 

The topic of conversation was competition, but we talked about a lot of things. We talked about how almost everything we do is based on our desire to prove ourselves to men – in work, in school, in everything. Because of this, we give the words of men a lot more weight in our lives than the words of women. I know that for me, a compliment from ten girls is the equivalent of a compliment from one guy. Even if it’s my brother. I hate to admit that’s true, but it is.
 

We talked about dichotomies and how we’re always expected to fit one end of the spectrum – feminine or masculine, gay or straight, girly or tomboy. It’s not really okay to fall somewhere in the middle. Under the male gaze, we’re taught to step back, to be perpetually self-conscious about our ideas and our image, realizing that if we are too confident and free from that gaze, we may not be considered anymore. Affirmation from men becomes a source of worth and validation, and that worth seems to be a limited resource – something we have to compete for.

I left the conversation feeling really frustrated. I don’t even really know what it means to be feminine. It bugs me when guys offer to carry things for me. God gave me biceps. I can carry it myself, thank you very much. I don’t wear makeup. My long hair is gone and I only shave my legs when I feel like it. I like wrestling just as much as I like hugs. I really like soul-searching conversations and brokenness, but I also like burping and poop jokes. I have an extreme dislike for dresses and an even greater dislike for the fact that I have to wear one, along with eyeliner, before a guy will tell me I’m pretty.
 

I’m not really sure what to do with any of that. I don’t always fit with a dichotomy, and sometimes I feel like I lack an identity because of it. What does the world see me as? What do men see me as, and why do I care so much? I hate the way we’ve been socialized to understand gender roles. By society’s standards, I can’t partake in eating contests and be an emotional creature at the same time.

On a slightly different note, as I was thinking about all of this, I realized that men need to be part of this conversation – that maybe we shouldn’t be having a women’s group, but a gender-discussion group. Or at the very least, the guys need a place for conversation as well.

Often, when I have been at events (usually church youth group) where guys and girls split up to talk, all the guys ever came back having talked about was porn, masturbation, and sex. Those are important topics to discuss, I’m sure, but I cannot believe that guys are just shallow sex machines. And the struggle of male gender identity has to be more than just learning that you don’t have to be ripped or that it’s okay to cry.

When I lived in Camden, I realized my whiteness for the first time. It’s not a bad thing, and I had to learn not to be frustrated at myself for it, but regardless, there are important conversations that need to be had over what a white identity even is and what it means for living life alongside people that are not white. The same idea can be applied to being a male. Majorities often need to talk about their issues just as much as minorities do. It’s just that the majority has the privilege of not noticing that they have issues in the first place.

At any rate, I still really don’t like the word “feminism”. Who knows. Maybe I’ll learn to like it someday. But right now, I’m more concerned with simply learning to embrace the fact that I’m a woman, and exploring what that even means. And I want it to be a joint effort – men and women casting off socially-created gender roles to find something more real and life-giving and freeing.

Trees and Mountains

One of the biggest draws about the OE is that we go on a week-long backpacking trip as a break between our first and second class segments. We just got back from it and it was probably the biggest life-giving thing I’ve done in a long, long while. I can’t think of a time when I’ve felt more at home in my body – my mind acknowledging it, encouraging it, being thankful for it.

There were three different trip options – my group, 11 of us, went to the Cascades in central Oregon.  We climbed up dry waterfalls, hiked across snow and shale, bushwacked through marsh, forest, and woods decimated and turned beautifully white by forest fire, walked across blister-inducing sand, covered obsidian-laden ground, and passed through meadows filled with wild flowers, streams, crickets, and butterflies. We dug holes and pooped in them, shared formative life stories around campfires, showered in waterfalls, ate dried apricots and instant soup, gazed at the milky way, drank water from sources that we could actually see and touch, and ate snow-cones made out of Gatorade and age-old mountain snow.

I spent lots of time thinking about everything and an equal amount of time thinking about nothing – just being alive in the present moment. It was a beautiful break for my soul and an incredible adventure for my body. I wish this kind of thing upon everyone.

Oh yeah. And we may have taken a mooning picture on some mountain somewhere at some point.

CLIF Bars

Today I learned that the guy who invented cliff bars went to the OE (Oregon Extension – the program I’m doing right now). Sick, right?

Parasitic Magic

Did you know that 10% of all the world’s species are parasitic insects? Crazy, huh? 

And there are even some parasites that change the sex of their host while inside of them. 

Thank you Annie Dillard, for enlightening me. 

You should read her book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. It’s actually not all about parasites. She talks a lot about the mystery of nature. My list of favorite quotes grew substantially after reading it.

The Mexican Fisherman

An American businessman was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. 

The Mexican replied, “Only a little while, Senior.” 

The American then asked, “Why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?”
The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

The American then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, and stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, Senior.”

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA, and eventually NYC where you would run your expanding enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But Senior, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, “15-20 years.”

“But what then, Senior?”

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions.”

“Millions, Senior? Then what?”

The American said, “Then you would retire and move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, and stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

Oh No She Didn't!

Oh yes she did.

So yeah. I shaved my head. I’ve always wanted to do it, but never had the guts. We had a talent show the second weekend here and a few of my friends and I decided to spontaneously shave it all off in front of everyone. It feels so liberating. Also, people frequently walk up to me just to rub my head.

With that Moon Language

Admit something:

Everyone you see, you say to them,
"Love me."

Of course, you do not say this out loud;
Otherwise, someone would call the cops.

Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us
to connect.

Why not become the one who lives with a full moon
in each eye that is always saying
with that sweet moon language,
what every other eye in this world is dying to hear?

-Hafiz