Wednesday, February 27, 2019
The white working-class and middle-class minorities
I remember turning off the TV and hoping that when I woke up the results of the 2016 election would somehow be different. I remember the weather reflecting the mood of New York City the next day - grey, cold, hopeless. I remember crying with my co-workers, wondering how we were going to face our kids, all low-income minorities, later that day.
I remember realizing that no matter what atrocities this administration committed, due to some of my privileges, I likely would not be affected.
When I read defenses of poor, rural white folks - be it a New York Times think piece, portions of Bernie Sanders' campaign speeches, or in this case, Professor Pruitt's keynote address to Toledo College - some form of inner turmoil takes place. Professor Pruitt used the tweets of progressives to demonstrate the type of disparaging remarks that liberals launched toward white working class voters before and after the 2016 election. And while these people may vote Republican, there is no question that the current GOP absolutely does not have their best interests in mind. It probably isn't fair to call them all anti-intellectual or racist. But it is hard to cut them some slack when their racism is (indirectly) pointed at me.
My grandparents are all Mexican immigrants who came to the United States under the braceros program. Through a mixture of my parents' hard work and my own luck, I grew up in a middle-class, predominantly white suburb. I had a more than adequate public school education and access to the types of activities that looked good to the elite private college I was eventually accepted to. My citizenship, middle-class status, ability, and education are all privileges that have made my life easier. They also shield me from the current racist, sexist government that I have some reason to fear, because through all of my privilege, I am still a Mexican woman.
In high school and college, I had a lot of white friends. They were not all well off (though in college, most were), so growing up, I knew that even as a Mexican woman, I had advantages that some white people did not. For a while, I cut most white people some slack. I knew they had problems too; I didn't even hate Hillbilly Elegy quite as much as some of my liberal counterparts. But then white people chose Donald Trump - a man who started his campaign by calling Mexicans racists and murderers, and who continues to vilify Latinx immigrants with his "Angel families" and mad insistence on a border wall. Over 50% of white people watched him campaign on these things, and then thought, this is fine, he can represent me and my interests. I still have white friends. I still know they have their own problems, and that not all of them are racists. But I don't know what to do when I am asked to cut the white, rich and poor alike, people who have done some, at the very least implicitly, racist stuff like voting for Donald Trump, slack.
But I wonder if helping white, rural folks see the light and forgiving their sins is my job? On the one hand, I am part of the audience that the above pieces are trying to reach. I am liberal, a member of the chattering class, and just so mad at them. These pieces are intended to promote understanding and reconciliation between subsets of the country that are fundamentally misunderstanding each other lately. I feel for the rural white women that are facing less job security, and more intimate partner violence, in theory. But, this may be the one time that learning more about a person's thought process and life story does not bring out my typical empathy. Tracie St. Martin has problems too, but she leaned toward voting for a man who hates my beloved grandparents for their crime of wanting a chance at a better life. Racial bias may not be the reason she grew to dislike Obama, or is willfully deaf to Trump's clear distaste for anyone with brown skin, but I cannot disentangle it. And every time I try to, I see the face of my Alita who passed away last year, whom would likely have never been given the opportunity to tell the United States media about her concerns, and how current policies hurt her. I have the duty to speak for her and people like her, because my life experience and education have granted me the ability to do so in a way that is palatable to white folks.
As middle class minorities, another subset of which people either forget about, or to be honest, assume is comprised of mostly Asians, there is no one right way to handle the situation. We can, and should be, forgiven for not enthusiastically taking every opportunity to educate white people, nor trying to understand them. For one, they might not really listen or care, and also, it is just plain exhausting. But we also may be in a better position to explain why the things Trump has been saying are so harmful. Either, I would argue is a valid course depending one's personal circumstances, as well as the context and person. As for me, I will work harder on being understanding, but will keep women of color at the forefront of my mind.
Combatting the hypocrisy inherent in scrutinizing politicians
In the historic November 2018 midterm election, 100 women won seats in the House of Representatives. Until this election, the number of seats women held in the House of Representatives never exceeded 84 out of the 435 seats available. To many, this monumental victory provided a glimmer of hope in what seemed to be a grim time for women’s rights and advancement in politics. The women who won seats in the House of Representatives came from diverse backgrounds and crafted their political agendas around pivotal issues such as providing better health care, thereby promising a fresh and relevant perspective. As Jen Cox, founder of political activist group PaveitBlue aptly noted, it is now time for women to have a “say in changing the face of politics.”
Unfortunately, the growing presence of women in politics only augments the level of scrutiny they face. In particular, the new wave of women of color politicians face the brunt of this heightened criticism. Rather than focusing on their policy platforms and political agendas for change, media outlets and male politicians quickly jump at any opportunity to criticize women of color politicians’ clothing, statements, and conduct.
For example, Eddie Scarry, a writer for the Washington Examiner, recently scrutinized Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s wardrobe. Scarry tweeted a photo of Representative Ocasio-Cortez with the caption “that jacket and coat don’t look like a girl who struggles.” Although Scarry claimed that he posted the photo to complement Representative Ocasio-Cortez’s dressing style, it is quite evident that Scarry meant to question the authenticity of Representative Ocasio-Cortez’s working-class background. Regardless of Scarry’s true intent behind the tweet, it is highly unlikely that reporters would ever subject male politicians to such belittling criticisms.
Representative Ilhan Omar faced a similar type of scrutiny when she tweeted “It’s all about the Benjamins” in response to a reporter’s tweet mentioning the contributions that the America Israel Public Affairs Committee gives to members of Congress. Specifically, her tweet insinuated that this pro-Israel lobbying group paid off right-wing members of Congress. Given the outrage that Representative Omar’s statements sparked, male Republican politicians immediately criticized Representative Omar and called for her resignation, despite her issuing an apology.
President Donald Trump, one of Representative Omar’s harshest critics, called Representative Omar “terrible” and stated that “she should be ashamed of herself.” President Trump deemed her apology inadequate and emphasized the need for Representative Omar to resign from Congress entirely or at least “certainly resign from the House Foreign Affairs Committee.” Similarly, Vice President Pence called Representative Omar’s statements a “disgrace” and stated that she should “face consequences for [her] words.”
The most infuriating part about this whole debacle is the hypocrisy embodied in President Trump and Vice President Pence’s criticisms of Representative Omar. On numerous occasions over the past few years, President Trump made similar anti-semitic comments without anyone calling for the drastic consequences of resignation or removal. For example, in 2015, President Trump made statements that perpetuated stereotypes of Jewish campaign donors being “political puppet masters” and “ruthless negotiators.” Although the Republican Jewish Coalition failed to construe President Trump’s comments as directly attacking their Jewish faith, they recognized that others may interpret President Trump’s statements in that manner and urged him to publicly clarify the intent behind his statement. However, President Trump neither outwardly expressed his true intent behind making those statements nor publicly apologized for the negative insinuations that arose from it.
Instead, President Trump continued to make additional comments in subsequent years that mirrored these anti-semitic views. For example, in 2017, after the white nationalist rally took place in Charlottesville, President Trump stated that “there were very fine people marching among the Neo-Nazis shouting Jews will not replace us.” Later that year, President Trump also denounced his Jewish advisor on the National Economic Council Gary Cohn by referring to him as a “globalist”, an anti-Jewish slur commonly used in far-right political groups. Time and time again, President Trump exposes his bigotry through his outright racist statements. Yet the only calls for his impeachment arise from his alleged misconduct during his presidential campaign.
This rampant disparity in the treatment of female politicians and male politicians sheds lights on a gut-wrenching reality. No matter how much success women achieve, it is very difficult for them to establish themselves as a force to reckon with. It is difficult for the public to look at anything beyond their appearance or the mistakes they make. Despite demonstrating intellectual prowess and strong leadership skills, women predominantly receive attention for everything but their political agendas for change.
Thus, the question still remains: What can we as a society do to alleviate this disparity in treatment? Would changing perceptions of women on an individual level be sufficient or can equality only be achieved by a broader upheaval of society’s perception of women? Regardless of what the right answer is, it is evident that statements of the same caliber must be scrutinized in an identical manner, whether made by a male or female politician. The unjustified disparity in treatment of male and female politicians only creates additional barriers in the path to equality.
Unfortunately, the growing presence of women in politics only augments the level of scrutiny they face. In particular, the new wave of women of color politicians face the brunt of this heightened criticism. Rather than focusing on their policy platforms and political agendas for change, media outlets and male politicians quickly jump at any opportunity to criticize women of color politicians’ clothing, statements, and conduct.
For example, Eddie Scarry, a writer for the Washington Examiner, recently scrutinized Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s wardrobe. Scarry tweeted a photo of Representative Ocasio-Cortez with the caption “that jacket and coat don’t look like a girl who struggles.” Although Scarry claimed that he posted the photo to complement Representative Ocasio-Cortez’s dressing style, it is quite evident that Scarry meant to question the authenticity of Representative Ocasio-Cortez’s working-class background. Regardless of Scarry’s true intent behind the tweet, it is highly unlikely that reporters would ever subject male politicians to such belittling criticisms.
Representative Ilhan Omar faced a similar type of scrutiny when she tweeted “It’s all about the Benjamins” in response to a reporter’s tweet mentioning the contributions that the America Israel Public Affairs Committee gives to members of Congress. Specifically, her tweet insinuated that this pro-Israel lobbying group paid off right-wing members of Congress. Given the outrage that Representative Omar’s statements sparked, male Republican politicians immediately criticized Representative Omar and called for her resignation, despite her issuing an apology.
President Donald Trump, one of Representative Omar’s harshest critics, called Representative Omar “terrible” and stated that “she should be ashamed of herself.” President Trump deemed her apology inadequate and emphasized the need for Representative Omar to resign from Congress entirely or at least “certainly resign from the House Foreign Affairs Committee.” Similarly, Vice President Pence called Representative Omar’s statements a “disgrace” and stated that she should “face consequences for [her] words.”
The most infuriating part about this whole debacle is the hypocrisy embodied in President Trump and Vice President Pence’s criticisms of Representative Omar. On numerous occasions over the past few years, President Trump made similar anti-semitic comments without anyone calling for the drastic consequences of resignation or removal. For example, in 2015, President Trump made statements that perpetuated stereotypes of Jewish campaign donors being “political puppet masters” and “ruthless negotiators.” Although the Republican Jewish Coalition failed to construe President Trump’s comments as directly attacking their Jewish faith, they recognized that others may interpret President Trump’s statements in that manner and urged him to publicly clarify the intent behind his statement. However, President Trump neither outwardly expressed his true intent behind making those statements nor publicly apologized for the negative insinuations that arose from it.
Instead, President Trump continued to make additional comments in subsequent years that mirrored these anti-semitic views. For example, in 2017, after the white nationalist rally took place in Charlottesville, President Trump stated that “there were very fine people marching among the Neo-Nazis shouting Jews will not replace us.” Later that year, President Trump also denounced his Jewish advisor on the National Economic Council Gary Cohn by referring to him as a “globalist”, an anti-Jewish slur commonly used in far-right political groups. Time and time again, President Trump exposes his bigotry through his outright racist statements. Yet the only calls for his impeachment arise from his alleged misconduct during his presidential campaign.
This rampant disparity in the treatment of female politicians and male politicians sheds lights on a gut-wrenching reality. No matter how much success women achieve, it is very difficult for them to establish themselves as a force to reckon with. It is difficult for the public to look at anything beyond their appearance or the mistakes they make. Despite demonstrating intellectual prowess and strong leadership skills, women predominantly receive attention for everything but their political agendas for change.
Thus, the question still remains: What can we as a society do to alleviate this disparity in treatment? Would changing perceptions of women on an individual level be sufficient or can equality only be achieved by a broader upheaval of society’s perception of women? Regardless of what the right answer is, it is evident that statements of the same caliber must be scrutinized in an identical manner, whether made by a male or female politician. The unjustified disparity in treatment of male and female politicians only creates additional barriers in the path to equality.
Can we keep our culture and still be feminists?
I recently got hooked on One Day at a Time. Netflix rebooted the series based on a 1975 show: One Day at a Time.
Today's show is about a single Cuban mother who lives with her immigrant Cuban mother and her two children while her husband lives in Afghanistan. The fifteen-year-old daughter (Elena) is a bad ass feminist social justice advocate in the making. While grappling with her Cuban heritage, she tries to teach her family about sexism and environmental issues.
One of the biggest moments for the family comes when the daughter refuses to let her mother and grandmother throw her a quinceañera. The daughter looked up the history of the quinceañera and learned that this traditional "coming out" party was a way to inform the village that the teenage girl was ready to be married off. This did not sit well with Elena.
Elena was quick to explain this to her family and let them know that she would not partake in such a sexist tradition. In response, her mother pointed out that many Cuban traditions had sexist origins and if they refused to engage in everything with such origins, they would not have any Cuban traditions. She also showed Elena that, although quinceañeras have a sexist history, they no longer carry the same meaning today. To the mother, this was an opportunity to show the world that her daughter was growing up and that, as a single mother, she was raising her daughter by being able to put on such an elegant party.
This episode hit home because I often struggle with my Mexican upbringing and all the sexism in the Latinx heritage. One of the reasons I don't go to church is the inherent sexism in the bible and Catholicism. However, religion is a huge part of the Latinx culture. My mom wouldn't be my mom without her faith in God as His image has been created. Although I may not believe in the God my mom swears is our creator, I wear a gold rosary when I need to feel safe.
I even drag my partner along to posadas (a reenactment of Mary's and Joseph's search for lodging in Bethlehem performed several days in a row leading up to Christmas) come Christmas time, not because I like to pray the rosary and reenact the night Jesus was born, but because these posadas were a happy and consistent part of my childhood (I remember dressing up as Mary on more than one year). And while I did not have a quince because we could not afford one, I would have loved to get all dressed up, make it to the church and dance all night. Even as a child, I knew that quinces were sexist, especially because I saw no male equivalent.
So what does this all mean? Am I doing feminism wrong by wanting to partake in some of my culture's historically sexist traditions?
This discussion reminds me of Roxane Gay's Ted talk, Confessions of a bad feminist. Her work helped me understand that I can still consider myself a feminist and engage in Latinx traditions. However, there is still a part of me that doesn't know how to reconcile the history of many of my cherished traditions with my feminist identity.
One of the solutions I created is to offer to plan quinceañeras for any sons I have. And if I have the honor of planning a quinceañera for a boy, we can make it as "traditional" or non-traditional as he wants!
Quinceañeras aside, what do I do about church? I want my children to be baptized, mainly out of fear of the consequences of not being baptized my mom has told me about. So, if my children are baptized and have quinces for the sake of holding on to my culture, does that say anything about my feminist values?
And what about marriage? Do people who get married renounce part of their sense of gender equality? Many people would yell, "No! Of course not! The meaning of marriage in today's society has changed!" And that is true.
But what if I want to do a whole Latinx wedding? What if I want to have a ceremony at a Catholic church (assuming my partner and I would be allowed) where a priest lectures us on the importance of marriage and the values we should hold on to until we die? What if I want a loved one to embrace my future spouse and me in one of those huge rosaries that are made for weddings? What if I want to respect the meaning of wearing a white dress no matter how sexist it is and wear an off-white dress to the ceremony? Am I not a feminist?
The other question that pops into my head is: Or is American feminism racist? Although marriage in the United States has changed, in many Latinx countries, religion is a complex area where machismo and sexism are still very much alive. So, although I can have an American wedding and be fine, could I have a full-on Mexican wedding and still be considered a feminist?
I don't feel that I am sacrificing my values for engaging in cherished cultural practices, but Elena's confrontation with her mother and grandmother regarding a quinceañera's sexist origins raised powerful identity questions for me. It was also meaningful to watch Elena ultimately decide to have a quince to honor her mom and provide her mother the opportunity to demonstrate to the world what a great job she has done in raising her as a single parent.
While I do not have the answers for many of these questions, I appreciated how this episode helped me untangle my own thoughts around my Latinx identity, feminism and religion.
Today's show is about a single Cuban mother who lives with her immigrant Cuban mother and her two children while her husband lives in Afghanistan. The fifteen-year-old daughter (Elena) is a bad ass feminist social justice advocate in the making. While grappling with her Cuban heritage, she tries to teach her family about sexism and environmental issues.
One of the biggest moments for the family comes when the daughter refuses to let her mother and grandmother throw her a quinceañera. The daughter looked up the history of the quinceañera and learned that this traditional "coming out" party was a way to inform the village that the teenage girl was ready to be married off. This did not sit well with Elena.
Elena was quick to explain this to her family and let them know that she would not partake in such a sexist tradition. In response, her mother pointed out that many Cuban traditions had sexist origins and if they refused to engage in everything with such origins, they would not have any Cuban traditions. She also showed Elena that, although quinceañeras have a sexist history, they no longer carry the same meaning today. To the mother, this was an opportunity to show the world that her daughter was growing up and that, as a single mother, she was raising her daughter by being able to put on such an elegant party.
This episode hit home because I often struggle with my Mexican upbringing and all the sexism in the Latinx heritage. One of the reasons I don't go to church is the inherent sexism in the bible and Catholicism. However, religion is a huge part of the Latinx culture. My mom wouldn't be my mom without her faith in God as His image has been created. Although I may not believe in the God my mom swears is our creator, I wear a gold rosary when I need to feel safe.
I even drag my partner along to posadas (a reenactment of Mary's and Joseph's search for lodging in Bethlehem performed several days in a row leading up to Christmas) come Christmas time, not because I like to pray the rosary and reenact the night Jesus was born, but because these posadas were a happy and consistent part of my childhood (I remember dressing up as Mary on more than one year). And while I did not have a quince because we could not afford one, I would have loved to get all dressed up, make it to the church and dance all night. Even as a child, I knew that quinces were sexist, especially because I saw no male equivalent.
So what does this all mean? Am I doing feminism wrong by wanting to partake in some of my culture's historically sexist traditions?
This discussion reminds me of Roxane Gay's Ted talk, Confessions of a bad feminist. Her work helped me understand that I can still consider myself a feminist and engage in Latinx traditions. However, there is still a part of me that doesn't know how to reconcile the history of many of my cherished traditions with my feminist identity.
One of the solutions I created is to offer to plan quinceañeras for any sons I have. And if I have the honor of planning a quinceañera for a boy, we can make it as "traditional" or non-traditional as he wants!
Quinceañeras aside, what do I do about church? I want my children to be baptized, mainly out of fear of the consequences of not being baptized my mom has told me about. So, if my children are baptized and have quinces for the sake of holding on to my culture, does that say anything about my feminist values?
And what about marriage? Do people who get married renounce part of their sense of gender equality? Many people would yell, "No! Of course not! The meaning of marriage in today's society has changed!" And that is true.
But what if I want to do a whole Latinx wedding? What if I want to have a ceremony at a Catholic church (assuming my partner and I would be allowed) where a priest lectures us on the importance of marriage and the values we should hold on to until we die? What if I want a loved one to embrace my future spouse and me in one of those huge rosaries that are made for weddings? What if I want to respect the meaning of wearing a white dress no matter how sexist it is and wear an off-white dress to the ceremony? Am I not a feminist?
The other question that pops into my head is: Or is American feminism racist? Although marriage in the United States has changed, in many Latinx countries, religion is a complex area where machismo and sexism are still very much alive. So, although I can have an American wedding and be fine, could I have a full-on Mexican wedding and still be considered a feminist?
I don't feel that I am sacrificing my values for engaging in cherished cultural practices, but Elena's confrontation with her mother and grandmother regarding a quinceañera's sexist origins raised powerful identity questions for me. It was also meaningful to watch Elena ultimately decide to have a quince to honor her mom and provide her mother the opportunity to demonstrate to the world what a great job she has done in raising her as a single parent.
While I do not have the answers for many of these questions, I appreciated how this episode helped me untangle my own thoughts around my Latinx identity, feminism and religion.
Monday, February 25, 2019
On co-ed sports teams and the lack of respect for female athletes
Sports have long been a space that exacerbates, and even celebrates, the gender divide. From recreational youth leagues to the Olympic circuit, men and women are separated into their respective teams. Women and men often practice separately, compete separately, and in some cases, there are even modified rules within a sport depending on gender (e.g. baseball versus softball, men's versus women's lacrosse, and even the differing events in mens and women's gymnastics). While a few sports have become more co-ed (e.g. curling, mixed doubles tennis), the fact of the matter is, when it comes to sports, we are comfortable with keeping men and women apart.
On both the professional and the recreation level, however, this is beginning to change. In the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo, the International Olympic Committee has approved several new mixed-gender events including mixed doubles table tennis, mixed swimming relays, a mixed triathlon relay, and mixed athletics (track) relays. At the recreational level, intramural college teams more often than not have a mixed league, as do adult sports leagues. While older players seem to have gotten on-board with coed sports, a proliferation of mixed gender teams has yet to arise among children and youths. Co-ed sports teams are often lauded as movement toward gender equality (by news outlets, and by some vocal male athletes that have spoken to me on the subject).
But while co-ed sports may facially promote gender equality, in practice, they are not as equal as they appear. In my experience - as a competitive soccer player who played from age four through to college - co-ed sports aren't all that they're cracked up to be in terms of gender equality.
I distinctly remember playing for a weekend co-ed team in college (an additional team I played for on top of being a starter for the university's women's team). I started the game as our left midfielder (largely because there always had to be at least one girl on the field at any given time, a stipulation I will delve into later in this post). I was the only girl on the field. Right before the game started, a player from the other team yelled out, "No need to defend her, guys!". Everyone, even my own teammates, laughed.
On another occasion while playing for an adult league in Davis, which also had a minimum number of girls on the field rule, I played the full 90-minute game and intentionally received the ball from my teammates maybe two or three times despite being open on countless occasions. Instead of passing me the ball, my teammates took on two, three, sometimes even four defenders on their own. Apparently one guy against four defenders has a better chance of succeeding than one girl in open space.
These are just two of my experiences on co-ed soccer teams, although I have plenty more. In reality, co-ed sports teams for women aren't as "co" as advertised. More often it feels as though women are there to meet the quota. Once we're on the field and accounted for, it becomes a guy's only game.
Co-ed sports presents the quintessential backdrop for the sameness/different frameworks of feminism. Under a sameness analysis, mixing men and women on teams embraces the idea that women are just as talented and capable as men. We can "keep up with the boys"! This in itself is problematic because it promotes male athleticism as the ideal standard of play, but I digress. But, it is true. There are incredibly talented women in every sport that rival the skills, speed, and athletic intelligence of a male athlete. But, no matter how good a woman is, she can still walk onto a pitch and immediately be discounted because of her status as a woman, like what happened to me.
But, the difference framework does little more to help solve this problem. In emphasizing the differences between the sexes - men's general advantage in strength and speed - women again are marginalised as athletes. Furthermore, rules meant to offset or account for the differences either (1) are inherently belittling, or (2) do not help at all. Some examples of these rules are, as previously mentioned, requiring a certain number of women on the field (and forcing teams to play with less players if they cannot field enough women), and mandating that women be involved in a play in some way before scoring (or the point does not count). Neither rule integrates women into the game. In fact, the rules are premised on the fact that we need to somehow "find the space" for women to fit into a man's game. Both rules are unsuccessful at promoting equality in sports.
Neither the sameness nor difference framework support women in sports. What is lacking from co-ed sports are not rules mandating female involvement, or opportunities for women to play at the same level as men with men (again, this is inherently problematic - why are male athletes our benchmark?). What is lacking is respect from male athletes. In my experience, male athletes simply do not look at female athletes as their equal. While I may be able to "impress" them by making a decent play every now and again, my actions are just that, a one-off fluke. My participation on the field is dependent on men agreeing to give me chance.
So what are the solutions to this problem?
For one, men can start supporting female athletes on and off the playing field. More men need to support the U.S. Women's National Soccer Team as they play this summer in the World Cup. This shouldn't be too hard considering the Women's Team is the U.S.'s only hope at World Cup success this cycle because the Men's Team failed to qualify. But outside of soccer (which I have selfishly focused on because it is my sport of choice), men need to witness the incredible athleticism displayed by women in all sports at the same frequency as they consume men's sports.
Secondly, and this goes hand in hand with increased viewership, female athletes need to be paid the same as male athletes of the same sport. The pay disparity reflects how we value women in sports versus men in sports. If we want to garner greater respect for female athletes, we have to start compensating them equally for their athleticism. Although this focuses on professional athletes, I believe the impact of mutual respect will be felt at all skill levels.
I'm not confident these two suggestions will fix everything, but they are a start towards ameliorating the lack of respect given to incredibly talented, capable women. Until then, I will seek comfort in all- female teams. I continue to be wow-ed, inspired, and strengthened - physically and personally - by the women I have been honoured to call my teammates over the years. My all-female teams and leagues have been a source of intense competition and challenge as well as friendship for me. I will continue to play and celebrate within my gendered sphere. And when I'm feeling up to the challenge, I will get back on the field with the boys, ignore them shouting, "No need to defend her!", and go and score a goal anyways. That's exactly what I did the day I played left-midfield for my college co-ed team, and I will do it again.
On both the professional and the recreation level, however, this is beginning to change. In the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo, the International Olympic Committee has approved several new mixed-gender events including mixed doubles table tennis, mixed swimming relays, a mixed triathlon relay, and mixed athletics (track) relays. At the recreational level, intramural college teams more often than not have a mixed league, as do adult sports leagues. While older players seem to have gotten on-board with coed sports, a proliferation of mixed gender teams has yet to arise among children and youths. Co-ed sports teams are often lauded as movement toward gender equality (by news outlets, and by some vocal male athletes that have spoken to me on the subject).
But while co-ed sports may facially promote gender equality, in practice, they are not as equal as they appear. In my experience - as a competitive soccer player who played from age four through to college - co-ed sports aren't all that they're cracked up to be in terms of gender equality.
I distinctly remember playing for a weekend co-ed team in college (an additional team I played for on top of being a starter for the university's women's team). I started the game as our left midfielder (largely because there always had to be at least one girl on the field at any given time, a stipulation I will delve into later in this post). I was the only girl on the field. Right before the game started, a player from the other team yelled out, "No need to defend her, guys!". Everyone, even my own teammates, laughed.
On another occasion while playing for an adult league in Davis, which also had a minimum number of girls on the field rule, I played the full 90-minute game and intentionally received the ball from my teammates maybe two or three times despite being open on countless occasions. Instead of passing me the ball, my teammates took on two, three, sometimes even four defenders on their own. Apparently one guy against four defenders has a better chance of succeeding than one girl in open space.
These are just two of my experiences on co-ed soccer teams, although I have plenty more. In reality, co-ed sports teams for women aren't as "co" as advertised. More often it feels as though women are there to meet the quota. Once we're on the field and accounted for, it becomes a guy's only game.
Co-ed sports presents the quintessential backdrop for the sameness/different frameworks of feminism. Under a sameness analysis, mixing men and women on teams embraces the idea that women are just as talented and capable as men. We can "keep up with the boys"! This in itself is problematic because it promotes male athleticism as the ideal standard of play, but I digress. But, it is true. There are incredibly talented women in every sport that rival the skills, speed, and athletic intelligence of a male athlete. But, no matter how good a woman is, she can still walk onto a pitch and immediately be discounted because of her status as a woman, like what happened to me.
But, the difference framework does little more to help solve this problem. In emphasizing the differences between the sexes - men's general advantage in strength and speed - women again are marginalised as athletes. Furthermore, rules meant to offset or account for the differences either (1) are inherently belittling, or (2) do not help at all. Some examples of these rules are, as previously mentioned, requiring a certain number of women on the field (and forcing teams to play with less players if they cannot field enough women), and mandating that women be involved in a play in some way before scoring (or the point does not count). Neither rule integrates women into the game. In fact, the rules are premised on the fact that we need to somehow "find the space" for women to fit into a man's game. Both rules are unsuccessful at promoting equality in sports.
Neither the sameness nor difference framework support women in sports. What is lacking from co-ed sports are not rules mandating female involvement, or opportunities for women to play at the same level as men with men (again, this is inherently problematic - why are male athletes our benchmark?). What is lacking is respect from male athletes. In my experience, male athletes simply do not look at female athletes as their equal. While I may be able to "impress" them by making a decent play every now and again, my actions are just that, a one-off fluke. My participation on the field is dependent on men agreeing to give me chance.
So what are the solutions to this problem?
For one, men can start supporting female athletes on and off the playing field. More men need to support the U.S. Women's National Soccer Team as they play this summer in the World Cup. This shouldn't be too hard considering the Women's Team is the U.S.'s only hope at World Cup success this cycle because the Men's Team failed to qualify. But outside of soccer (which I have selfishly focused on because it is my sport of choice), men need to witness the incredible athleticism displayed by women in all sports at the same frequency as they consume men's sports.
Secondly, and this goes hand in hand with increased viewership, female athletes need to be paid the same as male athletes of the same sport. The pay disparity reflects how we value women in sports versus men in sports. If we want to garner greater respect for female athletes, we have to start compensating them equally for their athleticism. Although this focuses on professional athletes, I believe the impact of mutual respect will be felt at all skill levels.
I'm not confident these two suggestions will fix everything, but they are a start towards ameliorating the lack of respect given to incredibly talented, capable women. Until then, I will seek comfort in all- female teams. I continue to be wow-ed, inspired, and strengthened - physically and personally - by the women I have been honoured to call my teammates over the years. My all-female teams and leagues have been a source of intense competition and challenge as well as friendship for me. I will continue to play and celebrate within my gendered sphere. And when I'm feeling up to the challenge, I will get back on the field with the boys, ignore them shouting, "No need to defend her!", and go and score a goal anyways. That's exactly what I did the day I played left-midfield for my college co-ed team, and I will do it again.
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
Performing gender as an “out” lesbian
When I went to college I decided to come out and try to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal. I had been in the closet all of high school, despite having a long-term girlfriend and knowing that I was gay since age 13. During the year after starting college and coming out I struggled with how to visually demonstrate my gender and sexual orientation while developing a style that felt comfortable for me.
There are plenty of stereotypes about what lesbians and queer women look like. For example, people think of masculine presenting / butch women, flannels, vests and practical shoes (think Birkenstocks), among other things. When I started college I had long hair and wore generally feminine clothing, although I was never one to wear dresses, heals, or makeup.
Despite my “tomboy” nature, I imagined myself as being a femme-presenting lesbian. Because of this, I felt invisible to the queer community. Having never had any sort of queer community before, I had a desire to both fit into that community and be visually identifiable as queer.
Over the course of my freshman year I intentionally sought out clothing and styles that I associated with stereotypes of what lesbians were supposed to look like. I bought a flannel and a vest, and I always wore a rainbow bracelet as a silent but clear signal to anyone I met that I was part of the queer community. While to most people wearing a simple cloth bracelet might not be significant, to me, and I imagine to others in the queer community, it was a powerful and necessary way of finding other queer people in a world that assumes heterosexuality.
The summer after my freshman year I took it a step further – I cut my long hair short. The act of cutting my hair short made me visually queer. This act of making myself visually queer was a reflection both of what I imagined queer women to look like and the stereotypes that both the queer community and heterosexual community had placed on us.
For a period of time after cutting my hair I had anxiety that my gender expression was not matching with my gender identity. I don’t mean this in the way that I looked like a boy and I felt like a woman, but to use lesbian terms, I self-identified as being more femme, but all of a sudden was presenting more butch.
Over time this anxiety dissipated as I explored my style, met more queer people who expressed their gender and sexuality in a wide range of ways, and became more comfortable exploring my own self-expression. The simple act of cutting ones hair from a longer length to a short length had an immense impact on my life as a woman and a lesbian.
My experience with the visual expression of my gender and sexuality relates to Judith Butler’s 1990 book Gender Trouble which argues that gender is “performative.” Butler argued that gender is something that is done and performed by the individual, that each of us takes on a role and that we are acting in some way.
While my anxiety about my gender expression, or as Butler would say, gender performance, dissipated over time and I found my own individual style and way to perform my queerness, I periodically consciously over-perform my lesbianism. For example I will attempt to “look gay” when going to Pride events or to clubs that cater to queer women. For me this is a combination of a fun way to visually display my queerness in a safe space and to signal to other queer women that I am not straight.
When I had short hair, I didn’t have to perform my queerness as much as I do now that I have long hair again. I now find myself intentionally outing myself to new people by mentioning my female partner so that I am never in a situation where I am assumed to be straight.
There are plenty of stereotypes about what lesbians and queer women look like. For example, people think of masculine presenting / butch women, flannels, vests and practical shoes (think Birkenstocks), among other things. When I started college I had long hair and wore generally feminine clothing, although I was never one to wear dresses, heals, or makeup.
Despite my “tomboy” nature, I imagined myself as being a femme-presenting lesbian. Because of this, I felt invisible to the queer community. Having never had any sort of queer community before, I had a desire to both fit into that community and be visually identifiable as queer.
Over the course of my freshman year I intentionally sought out clothing and styles that I associated with stereotypes of what lesbians were supposed to look like. I bought a flannel and a vest, and I always wore a rainbow bracelet as a silent but clear signal to anyone I met that I was part of the queer community. While to most people wearing a simple cloth bracelet might not be significant, to me, and I imagine to others in the queer community, it was a powerful and necessary way of finding other queer people in a world that assumes heterosexuality.
The summer after my freshman year I took it a step further – I cut my long hair short. The act of cutting my hair short made me visually queer. This act of making myself visually queer was a reflection both of what I imagined queer women to look like and the stereotypes that both the queer community and heterosexual community had placed on us.
For a period of time after cutting my hair I had anxiety that my gender expression was not matching with my gender identity. I don’t mean this in the way that I looked like a boy and I felt like a woman, but to use lesbian terms, I self-identified as being more femme, but all of a sudden was presenting more butch.
Over time this anxiety dissipated as I explored my style, met more queer people who expressed their gender and sexuality in a wide range of ways, and became more comfortable exploring my own self-expression. The simple act of cutting ones hair from a longer length to a short length had an immense impact on my life as a woman and a lesbian.
My experience with the visual expression of my gender and sexuality relates to Judith Butler’s 1990 book Gender Trouble which argues that gender is “performative.” Butler argued that gender is something that is done and performed by the individual, that each of us takes on a role and that we are acting in some way.
While my anxiety about my gender expression, or as Butler would say, gender performance, dissipated over time and I found my own individual style and way to perform my queerness, I periodically consciously over-perform my lesbianism. For example I will attempt to “look gay” when going to Pride events or to clubs that cater to queer women. For me this is a combination of a fun way to visually display my queerness in a safe space and to signal to other queer women that I am not straight.
When I had short hair, I didn’t have to perform my queerness as much as I do now that I have long hair again. I now find myself intentionally outing myself to new people by mentioning my female partner so that I am never in a situation where I am assumed to be straight.
Sexual Assault and Identity Revised, Part 2: Identity Subversion
This is a continuation of my last post. Here I will be examining more in-depth the situations introduced there. Again, I begin with a trigger warning. In this post I recount graphic jokes involving sexual assault and rape that will be dissected for their unintentional contribution to a discussion on how people subvert parts of their identities to better help communities of which they are a part, and some structural fixes to help survivors of sexual assault.
I pass no judgement about the experiences of those talked about in this piece; they were all put into an impossible situation and did what they thought was best at the time. I cannot fathom what I would do in that situation.
The first situation Kathrine Ryan addresses discusses actors who were relatively unknown (here meaning not famous), black, and female, in the context of their sexual assault by a famous, black, male actor, Bill Cosby. These assaults occurred in the 80s and 90s, a time when sexual assault victims were less likely to be believed. Because they were rarely believed, many did not report, and the two phenomena were in a feedback loop. drastically aggravating each other.
In this situation, multiple identities are at issue, and some were subverted for the benefit of others. Bill Cosby exerting his power over women ties into his identities as both famous and male, while the sexual assault he inflicts ties into the survivor's identities as unknown actors and as women. Additionally, these women said that they did not want to hinder Cosby's career because he was paving a way for black actors. These women essentially saw their identities as women as being at odds with their black identities. So, they subverted their identities as women to better serve their other identities, to benefit other constituencies. These victims did not want to feel like they were betraying the black community. That became a factor in them deciding not to report. Another prominent factor was the time the women were living in.
The second situation Kathrine Ryan addresses is an imaginary one that involves herself, a comedian who is famous, white, and female, and Tina Fey and Amy Schumer, two comedians who are both white, female, and arguably much more famous than Katherine. Fey and Schumer have also likely trailblazed the way for more women to be invited into comedic community.
This situation does not have the same race implications as the first situation, and also does not feature a subversion of identity. But, Ryan, albeit jokingly, says that she would keep quiet about a sexual assault by one of these women because of all they have done and are doing for women. In her hypothetical, she still seems willing to subvert her individual trauma for the betterment of her community, which is here aspiring female comics.
The last assault involves Kesha, a musician who is a white woman, and the trauma she experienced at the hands of Doctor Luke, a music producer who is white and a man. While this is mentioned only in passing (“Free Kesha”), it evokes a well-documented assault and legal fight involving Kesha and Dr. Luke. Kesha’s incident is completely different from the first two for two reasons.
First, Kesha reported her assault, in contrast to the first two situations I have described. Kesha even and even sued Dr. Luke for the harm he had caused her.
Second, Kesha was willing to give up her music career in order to get justice for her assault. She was willing to subvert her identity, her career, as a musician in order to try, with no guarantee, to get justice for the sexual assault she experienced because she was a woman. She was willing to subvert her needs as a musician to seek justice. This is the only situation where the assaulted survivor gave her identity as a woman primacy over her other identities.
So, what can we learn from this thought experiment? No one should be forced to choose between parts of their identity. We as a society should be doing everything in our power to remove the barriers to reporting sexual assault. If we do that, women will not be forced to subvert their needs to help others, for some apparent greater good. Two possible solutions could help.
First, in the first and second situations, better racial and gender representation on television would have given the attackers less power. In the first situation, if Bill Cosby had not been one of only a handful of black actors on television, his career and reputation would not have been as important to the black community. In the second situation, if the dearth of female-driven comedies and writer’s rooms did not exist, Kathrine would not have felt the need to make the joke about her not to be willing to report her imaginary sexual assault. Both instances show the real-world impact of diversity in media. The more diverse we make television and entertainment industries more broadly, the less power those in that industry wield.
Second, in the first and second situations, social stigma was cited as a barrier for survivors deciding not not to report. We can remove this barrier by believing survivors when they come forward. This would lessen the stigma surrounding the experience of surviving a sexual assault, and that would surely empower survivors.
If we look at both these issues, the first being cultural and the second being structural, then we can make it less likely sexual assault will occur. When it does occur, we will have made it easier for survivors of sexual assault to report their assault and get justice.
I pass no judgement about the experiences of those talked about in this piece; they were all put into an impossible situation and did what they thought was best at the time. I cannot fathom what I would do in that situation.
The first situation Kathrine Ryan addresses discusses actors who were relatively unknown (here meaning not famous), black, and female, in the context of their sexual assault by a famous, black, male actor, Bill Cosby. These assaults occurred in the 80s and 90s, a time when sexual assault victims were less likely to be believed. Because they were rarely believed, many did not report, and the two phenomena were in a feedback loop. drastically aggravating each other.
In this situation, multiple identities are at issue, and some were subverted for the benefit of others. Bill Cosby exerting his power over women ties into his identities as both famous and male, while the sexual assault he inflicts ties into the survivor's identities as unknown actors and as women. Additionally, these women said that they did not want to hinder Cosby's career because he was paving a way for black actors. These women essentially saw their identities as women as being at odds with their black identities. So, they subverted their identities as women to better serve their other identities, to benefit other constituencies. These victims did not want to feel like they were betraying the black community. That became a factor in them deciding not to report. Another prominent factor was the time the women were living in.
The second situation Kathrine Ryan addresses is an imaginary one that involves herself, a comedian who is famous, white, and female, and Tina Fey and Amy Schumer, two comedians who are both white, female, and arguably much more famous than Katherine. Fey and Schumer have also likely trailblazed the way for more women to be invited into comedic community.
This situation does not have the same race implications as the first situation, and also does not feature a subversion of identity. But, Ryan, albeit jokingly, says that she would keep quiet about a sexual assault by one of these women because of all they have done and are doing for women. In her hypothetical, she still seems willing to subvert her individual trauma for the betterment of her community, which is here aspiring female comics.
The last assault involves Kesha, a musician who is a white woman, and the trauma she experienced at the hands of Doctor Luke, a music producer who is white and a man. While this is mentioned only in passing (“Free Kesha”), it evokes a well-documented assault and legal fight involving Kesha and Dr. Luke. Kesha’s incident is completely different from the first two for two reasons.
First, Kesha reported her assault, in contrast to the first two situations I have described. Kesha even and even sued Dr. Luke for the harm he had caused her.
Second, Kesha was willing to give up her music career in order to get justice for her assault. She was willing to subvert her identity, her career, as a musician in order to try, with no guarantee, to get justice for the sexual assault she experienced because she was a woman. She was willing to subvert her needs as a musician to seek justice. This is the only situation where the assaulted survivor gave her identity as a woman primacy over her other identities.
So, what can we learn from this thought experiment? No one should be forced to choose between parts of their identity. We as a society should be doing everything in our power to remove the barriers to reporting sexual assault. If we do that, women will not be forced to subvert their needs to help others, for some apparent greater good. Two possible solutions could help.
First, in the first and second situations, better racial and gender representation on television would have given the attackers less power. In the first situation, if Bill Cosby had not been one of only a handful of black actors on television, his career and reputation would not have been as important to the black community. In the second situation, if the dearth of female-driven comedies and writer’s rooms did not exist, Kathrine would not have felt the need to make the joke about her not to be willing to report her imaginary sexual assault. Both instances show the real-world impact of diversity in media. The more diverse we make television and entertainment industries more broadly, the less power those in that industry wield.
Second, in the first and second situations, social stigma was cited as a barrier for survivors deciding not not to report. We can remove this barrier by believing survivors when they come forward. This would lessen the stigma surrounding the experience of surviving a sexual assault, and that would surely empower survivors.
If we look at both these issues, the first being cultural and the second being structural, then we can make it less likely sexual assault will occur. When it does occur, we will have made it easier for survivors of sexual assault to report their assault and get justice.
Sexual Assault and Identity Revised, Part 1: A Tale of Two (C/K)atherines
I want begin with a trigger warning. I recount graphic jokes involving sexual assault and rape, and I will dissect these in relation to their unintentional contribution to a discussion on how people subvert parts of their identities to better help communities they are part of, and some structural fixes to help survivors of sexual assault.
I pass no judgement about the experiences of those discussed in this piece; they were all put into an impossible situation and did what they thought was best at the time, and I cannot fathom what I would do in that situation.
This analysis will be split into two posts. The first post will go over the comedic piece and why the piece pairs nicely with Catherine MacKinnon’s theory of dominance feminism. The second post will look separately at the three events Katherine Ryan describes in her stand-up special It will also show that deciding whether or not to report sexual assault often involves multiple parts of a person’s identities, and a difficult decision to prioritize one or more over others.
Recently, to blow off some steam, I was recently watching Kathrine Ryan’s 2015 stand-up special. She is a white woman, born in Canada, who now resides as a single-mother in the United Kingdom. I have been struggling with a joke I heard on the special that went:
Katherine Ryan accidentally stumbled into a Catherine MacKinnon feminist critique. Catherine MacKinnon idea of feminism has been labeled dominance or radical feminism. This strand of feminism stresses that the differences between men and women has become institutionalized in our government, laws, and even our thoughts. Further this difference gives men the dominant position in society and subordinates the women.
People even start to rationalize these differences, which gives the impression that the differences occur naturally. That in turn just reinforces people’s beliefs of why these difference should be codified or institutionalized.
So, what does Catherine MacKinnon dominance feminism have to do with Katherine Ryan’s stand up? Catherine MacKinnon describes sexual assault and rape as forms of discrimination on the basis of sex. MacKinnon believes that any time a man has sexual contact with a woman, even when it is consensual, he is exerting his sex over the women. MacKinnon states that the power dynamic between the two does not allow the woman to give full consent. This is especially heightened, however, when the woman declines sexual contact, but it is forced upon her. Therefore, MacKinnon believes, that any time there is unwanted sexual contact in the form of sexual assault or rape, this contact is a form of sex discrimination, and she believes that courts and legislatures should treat it as such.
This means, that in the three situations Katherine Ryan describes, two are forms of discrimination on the basis of sex.
In the first scenario, when Bill Cosby assaulted those two women, he was asserting himself over them, and was saying that he, as a male, was entitled to them as women, because they are worth less than them. He asserted what he perceived as his dominant position in society over their subordinate position. Catherine MacKinnon would qualify this as a form of sex discrimination.
In the third scenario, when Dr. Luke assaulted and tormented Kesha, he was also asserting himself over Kesha. Dr. Luke also saying that he, as a male, was entitled to do whatever he pleased to Kesha, because she, as a woman, is worth less than he is. He asserted what he perceived as his dominant position in society over her subordinate position. Catherine MacKinnon would also classify this as a form of sex discrimination.
However, the second scenario runs into a snag. When two women are committing sexual violence against another woman, how can they be asserting their dominance over her via their sex as women?
MacKinnon is familiar with this critique. She has often been accused of articulating a feminist vision that is heteronormative with her feminism. This depiction of sexual force does not explain why men assault other men, nor why women assault other women.
But I do agree with MacKinnon that heterosexual sexual assault is a form of dominance of the male sex over the female sex.
I pass no judgement about the experiences of those discussed in this piece; they were all put into an impossible situation and did what they thought was best at the time, and I cannot fathom what I would do in that situation.
This analysis will be split into two posts. The first post will go over the comedic piece and why the piece pairs nicely with Catherine MacKinnon’s theory of dominance feminism. The second post will look separately at the three events Katherine Ryan describes in her stand-up special It will also show that deciding whether or not to report sexual assault often involves multiple parts of a person’s identities, and a difficult decision to prioritize one or more over others.
Recently, to blow off some steam, I was recently watching Kathrine Ryan’s 2015 stand-up special. She is a white woman, born in Canada, who now resides as a single-mother in the United Kingdom. I have been struggling with a joke I heard on the special that went:
But on a serious note, a lot of women who were allegedly assaulted by Mr. Cosby were strong, power beautiful black women like me. And when asked, ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Ha! In addition to the many reasons why victims don’t come forward, these women were, like, ‘Hang on a minute. Look at the times.’ Because it didn’t happen today. Though it still happens today. Free Kesha. They were, like, ‘it happened a very long time ago,’ when these were struggling, young black actresses in America, and Mr. Cosby, a black man in the ‘80s there, was dominating television. They said, ‘I didn’t really feel like it was in my greater interest to bring that man down.’ And I have to tell you, on some level, as a female comedian, I kind of get that. Tina Fey could be raping me now, and I would tell no one. Amy Schumer could be wearing me like a watch, and I would just be like thank you for everything that you do for women in our industry.While the jokes themselves are extremely crass and many would take offense at them, they accidentally stumble into a weird analysis of intersectional feminism and subverting identities that seem to address three completely different experiences of sexual assault.
Katherine Ryan accidentally stumbled into a Catherine MacKinnon feminist critique. Catherine MacKinnon idea of feminism has been labeled dominance or radical feminism. This strand of feminism stresses that the differences between men and women has become institutionalized in our government, laws, and even our thoughts. Further this difference gives men the dominant position in society and subordinates the women.
People even start to rationalize these differences, which gives the impression that the differences occur naturally. That in turn just reinforces people’s beliefs of why these difference should be codified or institutionalized.
So, what does Catherine MacKinnon dominance feminism have to do with Katherine Ryan’s stand up? Catherine MacKinnon describes sexual assault and rape as forms of discrimination on the basis of sex. MacKinnon believes that any time a man has sexual contact with a woman, even when it is consensual, he is exerting his sex over the women. MacKinnon states that the power dynamic between the two does not allow the woman to give full consent. This is especially heightened, however, when the woman declines sexual contact, but it is forced upon her. Therefore, MacKinnon believes, that any time there is unwanted sexual contact in the form of sexual assault or rape, this contact is a form of sex discrimination, and she believes that courts and legislatures should treat it as such.
This means, that in the three situations Katherine Ryan describes, two are forms of discrimination on the basis of sex.
In the first scenario, when Bill Cosby assaulted those two women, he was asserting himself over them, and was saying that he, as a male, was entitled to them as women, because they are worth less than them. He asserted what he perceived as his dominant position in society over their subordinate position. Catherine MacKinnon would qualify this as a form of sex discrimination.
In the third scenario, when Dr. Luke assaulted and tormented Kesha, he was also asserting himself over Kesha. Dr. Luke also saying that he, as a male, was entitled to do whatever he pleased to Kesha, because she, as a woman, is worth less than he is. He asserted what he perceived as his dominant position in society over her subordinate position. Catherine MacKinnon would also classify this as a form of sex discrimination.
However, the second scenario runs into a snag. When two women are committing sexual violence against another woman, how can they be asserting their dominance over her via their sex as women?
MacKinnon is familiar with this critique. She has often been accused of articulating a feminist vision that is heteronormative with her feminism. This depiction of sexual force does not explain why men assault other men, nor why women assault other women.
But I do agree with MacKinnon that heterosexual sexual assault is a form of dominance of the male sex over the female sex.
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
What about Brett? The media’s treatment of Malia Obama
While most people were discussing the legality of Donald Trump’s recent declaration of a national emergency due to the lack of funding for a southern border wall, the Daily Mail was working hard to ensure Americans did not miss out on the other, more shocking national emergency happening right under our noses: Malia Obama’s underage drinking.
In what the Daily Mail described as a “wild weekend,” Malia Obama is seen in a slew of (decently creepy) paparazzi shots holding, pouring, and (most egregiously) drinking rosé with a group of her female friends. While, for most, this could hardly be described as wild, the Daily Mail eagerly reminded readers Obama doesn’t turn 21 until July – making her rosé consumption illegal and very risqué.
Some jumped at the opportunity presented by the Daily Mail to pounce on the behavior of Obama, using the hashtags #privileged and #illegal. Conservative talk show host Andrew Wilkow tweeted, “Living like the 1%? Drinking underage? Let's see the #democrats and media scream about "privilege" here...” with the link to the Daily Mail article.
Some other examples of tweets criticizing Malia Obama’s underage drinking included (by @Krossbone2):
This also isn’t the first instance of sexist media coverage involving a daughter of a president (the media also ruthlessly criticized the Bush daughters while they were partying in college). To me, this seems to reek of exceptional overreaction given the allowances made to the actions of other male, adult political figures.
For example, a comparison that has emerged online is the double standard of the right critiquing Obama for her behavior, while many of these same critics were quick to give Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh a pass for his teenage drinking in the 1980s. Kavanaugh's underage drinking only came out as a side story to the much larger accusation of sexual assault by Dr. Christine Blasey Ford that was brought before the Senate during his confirmation hearings. While Kavanaugh denied Blasey Ford's allegations, he readily admitted to underage drinking, saying, "Yes, we drank beer. I liked beer. I still like beer." Following Kavanaugh’s confirmation, some of his supporters even celebrated with beer on social media.
This recent media controversy (if you can even call it that) reminded me of difference feminism. In particular, Kingsley R. Browne’s article Sex and Temperament in Modern Society: A Darwinian View of the Glass Ceiling and the Gender Gap, in which Browne attribute certain characteristics to men and women based on the idea those characteristics are intrinsically attached to one’s sex, as well as our discussion of Carol Gilligan’s gender-linked analysis of ethical orientations.
Malia Obama, as a woman, has less freedom to behave like a young adult because of the limitations and expectations ascribed to women. She is expected to act maturely, as a caregiver, and without any sexual desires. So, when she is caught kissing boys and drinking alcohol while under the age of 21 it is “scandalous”, and when she smokes pot she is “bound for rehab.” But, when Brett Kavanaugh readily and, some may argue enthusiastically, admits to drinking underage and engaging in sexual conduct it’s just boys being boys.
Personally, the only opinion I have on Obama’s drinking is jealousy over the fact she gets to drink $80 rosé at a Miami beach club at 20, while I was forced to drink bagged wine in a frat basement at the same age.
In what the Daily Mail described as a “wild weekend,” Malia Obama is seen in a slew of (decently creepy) paparazzi shots holding, pouring, and (most egregiously) drinking rosé with a group of her female friends. While, for most, this could hardly be described as wild, the Daily Mail eagerly reminded readers Obama doesn’t turn 21 until July – making her rosé consumption illegal and very risqué.
Some jumped at the opportunity presented by the Daily Mail to pounce on the behavior of Obama, using the hashtags #privileged and #illegal. Conservative talk show host Andrew Wilkow tweeted, “Living like the 1%? Drinking underage? Let's see the #democrats and media scream about "privilege" here...” with the link to the Daily Mail article.
Some other examples of tweets criticizing Malia Obama’s underage drinking included (by @Krossbone2):
#MaliaObama is still drinking illegally. She's underage. It's that simple. Not calling to castrate her obviously, but some form of punishment should be leveled.And (by @littlejessbent):
Oh that’s right, the left can THREATEN Barron Trump (a child) but when u simply point out that Malia Obama (an adult) is underage drinking(illegal) & being a total disgrace, acting like trash, just like her parents, y’all freak out. Please 🙄Stay classy Obamas— U are NOT missed. 🤮#MAGAThis isn’t the media’s first time criticizing Malia Obama for acting like her peers either. In November 2017 she was accused of being intoxicated at a Harvard football game in an article titled, “‘Drunk,’ Smoking & Kissing! Wild Coed Malia Obama Caught Partying at Harvard.” She was also dragged through the media in 2016 when she was caught on film smoking what appeared to be pot at Lollapalooza, a music festival. In that instance, headlines ranged from the scandalized, “EXPLOSIVE VIDEO: Malia Obama CAUGHT On Camera Smoking ‘Pot’” to some sites even going so far as to say Malia was going to be sent to rehab.
This also isn’t the first instance of sexist media coverage involving a daughter of a president (the media also ruthlessly criticized the Bush daughters while they were partying in college). To me, this seems to reek of exceptional overreaction given the allowances made to the actions of other male, adult political figures.
For example, a comparison that has emerged online is the double standard of the right critiquing Obama for her behavior, while many of these same critics were quick to give Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh a pass for his teenage drinking in the 1980s. Kavanaugh's underage drinking only came out as a side story to the much larger accusation of sexual assault by Dr. Christine Blasey Ford that was brought before the Senate during his confirmation hearings. While Kavanaugh denied Blasey Ford's allegations, he readily admitted to underage drinking, saying, "Yes, we drank beer. I liked beer. I still like beer." Following Kavanaugh’s confirmation, some of his supporters even celebrated with beer on social media.
This recent media controversy (if you can even call it that) reminded me of difference feminism. In particular, Kingsley R. Browne’s article Sex and Temperament in Modern Society: A Darwinian View of the Glass Ceiling and the Gender Gap, in which Browne attribute certain characteristics to men and women based on the idea those characteristics are intrinsically attached to one’s sex, as well as our discussion of Carol Gilligan’s gender-linked analysis of ethical orientations.
Malia Obama, as a woman, has less freedom to behave like a young adult because of the limitations and expectations ascribed to women. She is expected to act maturely, as a caregiver, and without any sexual desires. So, when she is caught kissing boys and drinking alcohol while under the age of 21 it is “scandalous”, and when she smokes pot she is “bound for rehab.” But, when Brett Kavanaugh readily and, some may argue enthusiastically, admits to drinking underage and engaging in sexual conduct it’s just boys being boys.
Personally, the only opinion I have on Obama’s drinking is jealousy over the fact she gets to drink $80 rosé at a Miami beach club at 20, while I was forced to drink bagged wine in a frat basement at the same age.
Housework: female destiny or self-choice
Since the Industrial Revolution and the advent of large-scale mechanization production, productivity and economic growth have relied not only on physical power but also on intellectual power as well. One result is that jobs that do not rely solely on physical capacity have also been available to women as well as men. This transformation means that many jobs do not exist as the exclusive privilege of males. Biological differences between men and women can’t constitute an excuse for refusing to employ female workers in many jobs.
Transformation of work during the Industrial Revolution opened up the possibility of a woman working and using her full intellectual. But, it also created tremendous economic pressures on the individuals and families. Some persons lost their jobs, especially men, and they were forced to find other jobs and learn new skills. They got the reason for women to stay at home again. Therefore, female workers are still confined by factors that do not constrain men – especially marriage and the responsibility for children.
Simone de Beauvoir claimed in The Second Sex:
The girl’s character and behavior express her situation: if it changes, the adolescent girl’s attitude also changes. Today, it is becoming possible for her to take her future in her hands, instead of putting it in those of the man. If she is absorbed by studies, sports, a professional training, or a social and political activity, she frees herself from the male obsession; she is less preoccupied by love and sexual conflicts. However, she has a harder time than the young man in accomplishing herself as an autonomous individual. Besides, even if she chooses independence, she still makes a place in her life for the man, for love.Human beings must acknowledge the creativity and huge achievements of women in all walks of life. But many women watch their early dreams and aspirations move farther and farther away, afraid of getting close to them and not knowing how. Are women so kind and tolerant that they would rather give up their studies or a career for a family and children, or is it that women’s ambitions have long been suppressed by society and families?
Simone de Beauvoir deems that women have difficulties devoting themselves to their fields of interest because women are easily distracted by men. More importantly, a woman will often be afraid of missing her destiny as a woman if she gives herself over entirely to any undertaking. This kind of consideration come from a girl’s early childhood education and social expectations. Parents bring a lovely doll to their baby girl, and it is a hint for her future role as caretaker of her future baby. When a girl is crying, parents rush to their baby girl and comfort her. Girls used to be taken care of and learn from that that they cannot stand on their own and need others to realize their ambitions.
It is truly a pity that every generation of women holds back her own accomplishments for her family since she only owns one life. And individuals are very good at using situations as the excuses. For example, women often cry that my family pushes me into the way that I am, or my husband does not want me to work. But upon self-reflection, we come to realize that everything is the consequence of self-choice.
U.S. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is a classic example. When she was trying every effort to enhance the legal states of women, her husband Martin David Ginsburg was her firm backbone and was always there for her. In a 2018 American documentary film RBG, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s daughter Jane jokes, “my father did the cooking and my mother did the thinking.” In fact, Martin David Ginsburg was a taxation law expert graduating from Cornell. And he was a law professor at Georgetown University Law Center in Washington, D.C. and of counsel to the law firm Fried, Frank, Harris, Shriver &Jacobson. They are both outstanding in their field. Isn’t it a more harmonious state to work together for each other's future? Do women really have to sacrifice for anyone?
Some may argue that they are elites of the middle class. So they are more open to a modern style and have more choices. For poor families, there must be a wife to take charge of housework. At this moment, being housewife is the destiny of many woman. If all women bend to this idea, then, women will never get away from the patriarchy that limits their achievements. Economic pressures may bring a family lots of troubles. But doing housework is not a duty for women alone. Couples can bear the responsibility of taking care of family and making money together. Negotiating with each other is better than sacrifice someone in two. Whatever the decision is, it should not be the consequence of persuasive talking. Only when women learn to use their own initiative to talk with their husband equally, will women gain bigger chance to achieve dreams in the workplaces consist of the law of jungle.
From this perspective, the destiny that Simone de Beauvoir described is actually the destiny which is imposed by patriarchy. Thus, the problem that we have to focus is really the independence in the mind.
I have a friend who is an exchange student from the top university of China. Once she told me that her ideal life is acting like a housewife. I was shocked at that moment because I never thought that this was the future or life that she desired. She is a talented and excellent girl with an amazing capacity for logical thinking and already has enormous legal knowledge. More importantly, she is the most high achieving among exchange students. So when she told me that becoming a decent lawyer was not her goal, she forced me to think about a question. Why should we force a woman to become a person we like? In the same way, we should not force a woman full of ambitions to stay at home waiting for her husband. Therefore, as long as the mind is free, it will not be imprisoned by so-called destiny. Mental and intellectual freedom is what feminists are chasing. Whereas, it must be achieved by women’s great endeavor.
Since the most significant reason for working or not is self-choice, then every woman possesses the right and ability to pursue her own life. Society, family and mental pressure should not constitute the excuse for escaping self-choice. If you are tired, that’s wonderful. Because you are going uphill in pursuit of your dreams.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
The #MeToo movement we aren't discussing
During our last Feminist Legal Theory class, students threw out some topics to cover for the last few weeks of school. I suggested sexual assault during the nightshift, and I was a little surprised when I had to elaborate on it. Why hadn’t my fellow feminists heard of it before?
Surely someone from the blog has written about it. So I got a little curious and checked the posts under the “immigration” label. Search result: zip, zero, nada. However, my peers did cover sexual assault in the fields, which has been viewed as the rural equivalent of sexual assault during the nightshift. That coverage is a step in the right direction in terms of making these sufferings a part of the #MeToo conversation, but I see that we have much more work to do.
Before I go any further, let me give you a brief explanation on what exactly I’m discussing here. Sexual assault during the nightshift is a phrase used to describe the many forms of sexual violation that janitorial women face while cleaning our corporate offices and government buildings in the middle of the night. Their shifts begin while everyone else is already home and in bed. They work alone and often times, the perpetrator is their own supervisor. The supervisor uses his position of power to violate the women. He knows the areas of the building that do not have cameras and he knows no one else is in the building to see or hear the assault take place. Many of these survivors experience inappropriate comments, unwanted touching, and rape - what so many other women of the movement had been forced to tolerate and endure for so long.
With so many courageous women coming forward naming their perpetrators (shoutout to #MeToo and #TimesUp), I couldn’t help but wonder why the female janitors weren’t a part of the conversation. Has the movement become too “Hollywood” with allegations against our most powerful men in entertainment, news media, and politics? I mean it is Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Bill Cosby, Larry Nassar, Bill O’Reilly, Brett Kavanaugh, and our very own POTUS - just to name a few. The famous perpetrators and their victims get the coverage, but so many other women are stuck in the same power dynamic. We’re fighting the same fight, yet the janitorial women’s suffering has fallen on deaf ears. If you’re asking why, so am I, and we’re not the only ones. It’s a difficult question and no one really has an answer.
But it’s important to note that the intersectionality of these women are embedded with identities that are often excluded or ignored: poor brown or black (single) women or (single) mothers, who most often, do not have legal status in the United States. These are the forgotten survivors of #MeToo.
While many victims are forced into silence with threats of termination or reports to immigration, not all of the women remain silent. For those who do report the incident, employers often turn a blind eye to it. For instance, ABM Industries, the largest janitorial company in the U.S., recently made a $5.8 million settlement in a class action lawsuit filed by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC). The EEOC discovered that ABM Industries received 40 sexual assault reports from their janitor employees over a 20 year span and did absolutely nothing in response, putting their employees at risk and perpetuating rape within the company. Without an employer that protects its victimized employees, many are forced to stay with the company until they find other work. They simply cannot afford to lose their income.
These survivors have also attempted to publicize their experiences before #MeToo came about. In 2015, Frontline aired Rape on the Night Shift, a documentary that exposed this problem. Since then, these survivors have spoken at events like the Women’s March, and they pushed policies to prevent sexual abuse on the night shift. In fact, last year, California passed a law that required janitorial companies to provide sexual harassment training for all employees. Last September, the survivors came together from Florida, New York, and California, to march from San Francisco to Sacramento in support of AB 2079 - a bill that would require janitorial companies to use their janitorial staff to give the sexual harassment training to one another. The secretary treasurer of the janitorial union behind the march, Alejandra Valles, explained the importance of the bill:
Surely someone from the blog has written about it. So I got a little curious and checked the posts under the “immigration” label. Search result: zip, zero, nada. However, my peers did cover sexual assault in the fields, which has been viewed as the rural equivalent of sexual assault during the nightshift. That coverage is a step in the right direction in terms of making these sufferings a part of the #MeToo conversation, but I see that we have much more work to do.
Before I go any further, let me give you a brief explanation on what exactly I’m discussing here. Sexual assault during the nightshift is a phrase used to describe the many forms of sexual violation that janitorial women face while cleaning our corporate offices and government buildings in the middle of the night. Their shifts begin while everyone else is already home and in bed. They work alone and often times, the perpetrator is their own supervisor. The supervisor uses his position of power to violate the women. He knows the areas of the building that do not have cameras and he knows no one else is in the building to see or hear the assault take place. Many of these survivors experience inappropriate comments, unwanted touching, and rape - what so many other women of the movement had been forced to tolerate and endure for so long.
With so many courageous women coming forward naming their perpetrators (shoutout to #MeToo and #TimesUp), I couldn’t help but wonder why the female janitors weren’t a part of the conversation. Has the movement become too “Hollywood” with allegations against our most powerful men in entertainment, news media, and politics? I mean it is Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Bill Cosby, Larry Nassar, Bill O’Reilly, Brett Kavanaugh, and our very own POTUS - just to name a few. The famous perpetrators and their victims get the coverage, but so many other women are stuck in the same power dynamic. We’re fighting the same fight, yet the janitorial women’s suffering has fallen on deaf ears. If you’re asking why, so am I, and we’re not the only ones. It’s a difficult question and no one really has an answer.
But it’s important to note that the intersectionality of these women are embedded with identities that are often excluded or ignored: poor brown or black (single) women or (single) mothers, who most often, do not have legal status in the United States. These are the forgotten survivors of #MeToo.
While many victims are forced into silence with threats of termination or reports to immigration, not all of the women remain silent. For those who do report the incident, employers often turn a blind eye to it. For instance, ABM Industries, the largest janitorial company in the U.S., recently made a $5.8 million settlement in a class action lawsuit filed by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC). The EEOC discovered that ABM Industries received 40 sexual assault reports from their janitor employees over a 20 year span and did absolutely nothing in response, putting their employees at risk and perpetuating rape within the company. Without an employer that protects its victimized employees, many are forced to stay with the company until they find other work. They simply cannot afford to lose their income.
These survivors have also attempted to publicize their experiences before #MeToo came about. In 2015, Frontline aired Rape on the Night Shift, a documentary that exposed this problem. Since then, these survivors have spoken at events like the Women’s March, and they pushed policies to prevent sexual abuse on the night shift. In fact, last year, California passed a law that required janitorial companies to provide sexual harassment training for all employees. Last September, the survivors came together from Florida, New York, and California, to march from San Francisco to Sacramento in support of AB 2079 - a bill that would require janitorial companies to use their janitorial staff to give the sexual harassment training to one another. The secretary treasurer of the janitorial union behind the march, Alejandra Valles, explained the importance of the bill:
Is it going to be somebody in a suit and tie or someone who looks like them? It makes the difference between whether that woman is going to live in silence or whether that woman’s going to actually report it.While making their 100 mile march, the survivors stopped by our campus and I had the privilege to speak with them individually, listen to their experiences and struggles, and hear why AB 2079 is instrumental to their line of work. Walking away from that experience, I realized how privileged I am to be in a position to advocate for these women and to have an audience that listens. Moreover, I, like many of my peers here at the law school, are also in positions to walk away from our employers if we experience the things these women fear every shift. At the end of the day, all they were asking for was to work in an environment that is safe and holds perpetrators accountable now and for future generations. Is that too much to ask for?
Anti-Blackness in the Panjabi community
Kala shah kala, mera kala hai sardar, goreyan nu daffa karo
Dark-skinned, dark-skinned, my beloved is dark-skinned, the fair-skinned can get lost
These are the lyrics to a popular Panjabi folk song traditionally sung at weddings and other such celebrations. Although the song itself is progressive and encourages society to change its views around colourism, this month, a Panjabi language film entitled Kala Shah Kala is being released and features the main lead in blackface. The character is shown to be struggling to find love due to his kala rang (dark colour).
This is not the first time the Panjabi film industry has done this to tell stories about the issues dark-skinned Panjabis face. The 2016 film Bambukat featured the female lead in blackface to tell the story of how her family treats her differently than her fair-skinned sister. Countless Panjabi songs speak of the ideal woman being slim, shy, and above all fair-skinned. Some singers even sing of their “progressive values” saying they would be okay with dating or marrying a girl with a dark complexion. Beauty is synonymous with fairness.
So, we need to talk about anti-blackness in non-black communities of colour. Today, I will be speaking specifically about the Panjabi community.
Many South Asian communities struggle with what is referred to as the “colonial hangover”- an obsession with fairness and whiteness, a desire to increase their proximity to whiteness in whichever way possible. This is also referred to as a desire to continue ghulami (slavery) for the white man even after the British left South Asia. The Panjabi community is no different.
Young children (mostly girls) are stopped from playing in the sun lest they get too dark, and are told that no one will marry them if they are not fair. Fairness creams and skin bleaching products are consumed in enormous amounts to satisfy this obsession with white skin. My grandmother’s sister is in her 70s and still uses a skin lightening cream called “Fair and Lovely” daily. She recently sent some to my 80 year old grandmother and encouraged her to begin using it as well so that she would look less dark. Dark skin is considered so ugly and undesirable that even in old age people actively try to get rid of it.
In the diaspora in North America parents tell their children to stay away from black children in school because they think those children are a bad influence and will corrupt their own children. By refusing to associate with black people, many first generation Panjabi immigrants try to appeal to white people and increase their proximity to whiteness to gain social power. Under white supremacist systems, it benefits people to assimilate and act as much like the ruling class as possible.
Many non-black people of color take advantage of the model minority narrative to show mainstream society (white people) that although they are not white, they are better than black people because they are better at serving whiteness. The stereotypes that Asian children are good at math and computer science are embraced because it makes the communities look productive and non-threatening to white supremacist systems.
On the other hand, second generation children born in North America are engaging in more and more appropriation of black culture. While their parents wanted to gain social power in the land they immigrated to, the children grew up seeing and experiencing racism and violence from their white peers and became alienated from mainstream society. They learned to identify more with black culture than white culture, and quickly began to convince themselves that they too were black. Panjabi kids in North America began to consume rap music, dressing styles, wearing their hair in corn rows, and appropriating African-American Vernacular English (AAVE). Many have convinced themselves so strongly of their own blackness that they see no problem with saying the “N word.”
Perhaps one of the most visible examples of this appropriation is Lilly Singh, also known as Superwoman, the YouTube sensation from Scarborough, Ontario, Canada. As others have mentioned, although she is of Panjabi heritage, she frequently wears her hair in corn rows, uses AAVE, and mimics the accents of people from Trinidad and Tobago to promote her own brand and make money. It is important to note that once she is no longer creating content to profit from, she can stop “being black.” When it is more profitable for her to look white, she does so. When making appearances on television shows like Jimmy Kimmel Live, The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, and Chelsea, the cornrows, clothes and accent are gone. Instead, we see straightened hair, mainstream clothing and her Canadian accent.
None of this is remotely acceptable. While on one hand people pretend to be black to gain cultural capital, this same group is able to stop being black whenever they want and many times perpetuate the same sort of racism upon black communities that white people do by perpetuating stereotypes. I have heard Panjabi men often talk about how they want to date black girls but they would never marry a black woman. They participate in the hypersexualization and dehumanization of black bodies the same way as others.
Following the death of Trayvon Martin and the emergence of the Black Lives Matter movement, many second generation Panjabi children sat down and talked to their families about the anti-blackness in their community for the first time. For some, it helped change minds. But it was not enough. Anti-blackness not only still exists in Panjabi communities, it is thriving. We have to call it out every time we see it, no matter how uncomfortable the conversation is and how many people are offended.
In my own family, when my grandmother describes a beautiful girl, she will always mention that the girl was fair-skinned. It seems fairness is a prerequisite for beauty. This is where I began calling her out some years ago. Each time she says it, she looks at me and stops herself now that I’ve done it more than a few dozen times.
Sometimes, the customer is wrong
I spent the year prior to beginning law school the way I imagine many other millennial humanities majors do: working at various part-time jobs while living with my parents. After leaving resumes at what felt like every business in my hometown, I was called to interview for a hostess position at a local restaurant and brewery.
Reading off of the standard list of questions, the interviewer asked what I thought about the mantra that “the customer is always right.” A predictable question with a litany of acceptable answers. “Excellent service is crucial to running a successful business.” “This job is about putting others first, going above and beyond for them.”
But this question irked me for some reason. Perhaps because I had already accepted a different job, I felt like being excessively honest. I responded that I wouldn’t go so far as to say “always,” because while good service is important, there comes a point when employees’ comfort and safety outweigh pandering to an irrational customer. The interviewer seemed surprised. She acknowledged that management cared about the employees’ well-being, quickly adding that customer satisfaction is still the most important aspect of their operation.
Reflecting on the question, my mind had snapped back to a situation at my previous job, as an English instructor in Peru. I had a student, a much older man, who would arrive at the school obnoxiously early every morning (before the rest of the class was around). Initially, we would converse casually until the other students trickled in and I could begin the lesson. However, this "friendship" soon snowballed into him mumbling comments about my body in class and badgering me to go out for drinks with him.
I demurred day after day, perfecting the art of avoidance: lingering downstairs, “pouring my coffee” for 15 minutes, asking the secretary questions, and organizing dry erase markers. This was not a very punctual class either, so most days I had to start teaching with only this student in the room.
My boss was a British man, only a few years older than I was. For context, whenever I didn’t have a class to teach, he would task me with standing outside handing flyers to passersby because “sex sells.” Unsurprisingly, when I told him about the creepy student situation, he joked that I should reciprocate the advances to help guarantee the guy’s continued enrollment. It was due to his pressure that I went to lunch with the student after class one day, supposedly to practice his English (we needed to have a reputation for “going the extra mile”).
I realize that teaching is not like a typical service job, and students are not usually thought of as customers. However, in a private school setting, there can be the same pervasive culture of maintaining cash flow and improving reputation at any cost to employees. This is to say that, for many women, putting up with difficult people for the sake of good business can go much further than plastering a smile and remembering to fill the water glasses regularly.
Recently, a restaurant security camera video went viral. It depicted a waitress, Emelia Holden, tackling a male customer who had groped her. She was hailed for standing up for herself, refusing to be disrespected. Other women who had been harassed before in the restaurant industry said that seeing the video had “empowered them to react more assertively next time.” Holden reported that she was confident in her reaction, knowing she would have the support of the restaurant owners and her coworkers.
For every story like this, there are many left untold of women who ignore harassment or laugh it off. A friend of mine working as a server once complained about a regular customer who always tried touch her inappropriately. Because the customer was a close friend of the restaurant owner, her boss refused to do anything about it.
While some advocate for assertiveness in the workplace as a way for women to avoid being taken advantage of (lean in?), it would be naïve to assume that employees all have equal bargaining power to their employers. Women can be assertive and demand respect, but often only insofar as their employers allow it. Many part-time and low-wage workers are at will employees, meaning that they can be terminated without cause. This, along with other factors such as language barriers and immigration status, can lock women into a harmful work environment.
It is unclear whether legal solutions would play a role in solving these issues, considering that many do not have the time and resources to commence a lawsuit. However, some suggest that steps be taken in training management on sexual harassment, in the hopes of reducing internal problems and building support for employees. Another option is to employ more women in higher up positions in this sector, with the idea that they may be more empathetic to issues like harassment.
Ultimately, I am probably reading too deeply into an old adage that doesn’t necessarily imply so much. But abiding by the contention that the customer is always right promotes the idea that profits are all that matter, disregarding the reality that women are more likely than men to experience harassment in the course of work. Some even argue that the way the service industry is run keeps women in a subservient position and normalizes sexism. While many things may be improving, these traditions perpetuate the reality that many women must suffer in order to maintain employment.
Reading off of the standard list of questions, the interviewer asked what I thought about the mantra that “the customer is always right.” A predictable question with a litany of acceptable answers. “Excellent service is crucial to running a successful business.” “This job is about putting others first, going above and beyond for them.”
But this question irked me for some reason. Perhaps because I had already accepted a different job, I felt like being excessively honest. I responded that I wouldn’t go so far as to say “always,” because while good service is important, there comes a point when employees’ comfort and safety outweigh pandering to an irrational customer. The interviewer seemed surprised. She acknowledged that management cared about the employees’ well-being, quickly adding that customer satisfaction is still the most important aspect of their operation.
Reflecting on the question, my mind had snapped back to a situation at my previous job, as an English instructor in Peru. I had a student, a much older man, who would arrive at the school obnoxiously early every morning (before the rest of the class was around). Initially, we would converse casually until the other students trickled in and I could begin the lesson. However, this "friendship" soon snowballed into him mumbling comments about my body in class and badgering me to go out for drinks with him.
I demurred day after day, perfecting the art of avoidance: lingering downstairs, “pouring my coffee” for 15 minutes, asking the secretary questions, and organizing dry erase markers. This was not a very punctual class either, so most days I had to start teaching with only this student in the room.
My boss was a British man, only a few years older than I was. For context, whenever I didn’t have a class to teach, he would task me with standing outside handing flyers to passersby because “sex sells.” Unsurprisingly, when I told him about the creepy student situation, he joked that I should reciprocate the advances to help guarantee the guy’s continued enrollment. It was due to his pressure that I went to lunch with the student after class one day, supposedly to practice his English (we needed to have a reputation for “going the extra mile”).
I realize that teaching is not like a typical service job, and students are not usually thought of as customers. However, in a private school setting, there can be the same pervasive culture of maintaining cash flow and improving reputation at any cost to employees. This is to say that, for many women, putting up with difficult people for the sake of good business can go much further than plastering a smile and remembering to fill the water glasses regularly.
Recently, a restaurant security camera video went viral. It depicted a waitress, Emelia Holden, tackling a male customer who had groped her. She was hailed for standing up for herself, refusing to be disrespected. Other women who had been harassed before in the restaurant industry said that seeing the video had “empowered them to react more assertively next time.” Holden reported that she was confident in her reaction, knowing she would have the support of the restaurant owners and her coworkers.
For every story like this, there are many left untold of women who ignore harassment or laugh it off. A friend of mine working as a server once complained about a regular customer who always tried touch her inappropriately. Because the customer was a close friend of the restaurant owner, her boss refused to do anything about it.
While some advocate for assertiveness in the workplace as a way for women to avoid being taken advantage of (lean in?), it would be naïve to assume that employees all have equal bargaining power to their employers. Women can be assertive and demand respect, but often only insofar as their employers allow it. Many part-time and low-wage workers are at will employees, meaning that they can be terminated without cause. This, along with other factors such as language barriers and immigration status, can lock women into a harmful work environment.
It is unclear whether legal solutions would play a role in solving these issues, considering that many do not have the time and resources to commence a lawsuit. However, some suggest that steps be taken in training management on sexual harassment, in the hopes of reducing internal problems and building support for employees. Another option is to employ more women in higher up positions in this sector, with the idea that they may be more empathetic to issues like harassment.
Ultimately, I am probably reading too deeply into an old adage that doesn’t necessarily imply so much. But abiding by the contention that the customer is always right promotes the idea that profits are all that matter, disregarding the reality that women are more likely than men to experience harassment in the course of work. Some even argue that the way the service industry is run keeps women in a subservient position and normalizes sexism. While many things may be improving, these traditions perpetuate the reality that many women must suffer in order to maintain employment.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Combatting the attorney archetype
Growing up, my family instilled the belief in me that if I worked hard enough, I could make any of my dreams a reality. Attending law school was that dream for me. I believed my capacity to empathize, combined with my ambition and the skills I would learn in law school would make me an effective advocate. However, those outside of my immediate family seemed to have a different impression of my place in law school. Their comments persisted throughout my time as a law student.
"But . . . you don't seem like the lawyer-type." This is the sentiment I hear over and over again when I tell community members that I am a law student. Every time I hear that comment, I cannot help but question what qualities I am missing that make it difficult for others to perceive me (or even respect me) as a law student.
It further shakes me to my core to think that seemingly masculine traits have become the new "gender neutral" characteristics that have embodied the archetype of lawyers. Not only does this signal that women must change themselves to succeed in the legal profession, but an inherent message is sent to women that “feminine” qualities have little to no value in the workplace. It seems like I have to choose between being a lawyer or being myself.
But is it really true that adopting masculine characteristics would make me a better lawyer? Is it really true that masculinity is synonymous with professionalism? An earlier blogger on this forum, Alcestis, posted about how they didn’t agree that “becoming a man in a ‘man's world’ will help produce a better and more efficient working environment.” Just because someone embodies "feminine" characteristics, doesn't relegate their opinions and contributions as meaningless. In fact, these unique traits may help provide valuable perspectives and solutions to increase efficiency and effectiveness in the workplace.
When I think about my future as a lawyer, I think about this balancing game women must play to fit into their office culture. I also think about the importance of incorporating more "feminine" features into the work environment.
Going forward, while I will continue to hold myself to highest professional and ethical standards, I will not mute who I am as a person to fit into an office. While I don't want to be relegated as outsider, I think it would be worse to change who I am and incidentally perpetuate the devaluation of femininity in the workplace. I may not be the lawyer type, but I will do everything in my power to fight the one-dimensional notion of who a lawyer is and can be.
"But . . . you don't seem like the lawyer-type." This is the sentiment I hear over and over again when I tell community members that I am a law student. Every time I hear that comment, I cannot help but question what qualities I am missing that make it difficult for others to perceive me (or even respect me) as a law student.
When I think about who I am as a person, a number of different traits cross my mind. For example, I would say that I am empathetic, independent, nurturing, and ambitious. Our socially constructed categories of masculinity and femininity would place independence and ambition in the former category and place empathy and nurturance in the latter category. This separate spheres ideology becomes problematic when people assign value to those categories and decide what qualities are valuable and which ones are not.
I always saw myself as an amalgamation of different qualities, but now these traits were being broken up into categories and instead of syncing up harmoniously, these traits were being weighted, categorized, and assessed differently by others – especially in professional settings. These traits had been set up on opposing sides, with the socially constructed traits of femininity (which I thought of as personal strengths) being considered professional weaknesses and liabilities. In light of this, I constantly wonder who I should be.
In their germinal law review article, Rand Jack and Dana Crowley Jack posit that a number of female professionals, especially female attorneys, have the same internal tension of defining themselves in their profession.
One solution women have adopted is to mute their “feminine” characteristics. Pixar recently released a new animated short film that illustrated this issue. Purl is the story of a ball of pink yarn who begins work at a male-dominated office. The men in the office make it clear to Purl that she doesn’t belong in the office. They ignore her ideas and exclude her from office activities. In an effort to avoid being shut out, she decides to change who she is to fit into her office’s culture – going as far as changing her appearance and speaking in a deeper voice. To her surprise, it worked.
But as Jack’s article finds, even when women mute their feminine characteristics and attempt to assert more masculine characteristics, they are stuck in a catch 22 because no matter what they do, they can never really "get it right".
I always saw myself as an amalgamation of different qualities, but now these traits were being broken up into categories and instead of syncing up harmoniously, these traits were being weighted, categorized, and assessed differently by others – especially in professional settings. These traits had been set up on opposing sides, with the socially constructed traits of femininity (which I thought of as personal strengths) being considered professional weaknesses and liabilities. In light of this, I constantly wonder who I should be.
In their germinal law review article, Rand Jack and Dana Crowley Jack posit that a number of female professionals, especially female attorneys, have the same internal tension of defining themselves in their profession.
One solution women have adopted is to mute their “feminine” characteristics. Pixar recently released a new animated short film that illustrated this issue. Purl is the story of a ball of pink yarn who begins work at a male-dominated office. The men in the office make it clear to Purl that she doesn’t belong in the office. They ignore her ideas and exclude her from office activities. In an effort to avoid being shut out, she decides to change who she is to fit into her office’s culture – going as far as changing her appearance and speaking in a deeper voice. To her surprise, it worked.
But as Jack’s article finds, even when women mute their feminine characteristics and attempt to assert more masculine characteristics, they are stuck in a catch 22 because no matter what they do, they can never really "get it right".
If a woman chooses to reject the usual lawyer image and follow a less combative form of participation, she may be labeled too feminine, and others may doubt her fiber as a tough lawyer. A woman attorney must walk the fine line between being feminine and being assertive. . . If she is too feminine she is accused of trying to use it to her advantage and is therefore resented, but if she is equally assertive to her male counterpart, she is accused of being too aggressive.This identity strain is an added burden on women in the workplace. As women, we exert so much energy to define the "right" persona for our office culture, that it inhibits time, effort, and energy from focusing on the work we were hired to do.
It further shakes me to my core to think that seemingly masculine traits have become the new "gender neutral" characteristics that have embodied the archetype of lawyers. Not only does this signal that women must change themselves to succeed in the legal profession, but an inherent message is sent to women that “feminine” qualities have little to no value in the workplace. It seems like I have to choose between being a lawyer or being myself.
But is it really true that adopting masculine characteristics would make me a better lawyer? Is it really true that masculinity is synonymous with professionalism? An earlier blogger on this forum, Alcestis, posted about how they didn’t agree that “becoming a man in a ‘man's world’ will help produce a better and more efficient working environment.” Just because someone embodies "feminine" characteristics, doesn't relegate their opinions and contributions as meaningless. In fact, these unique traits may help provide valuable perspectives and solutions to increase efficiency and effectiveness in the workplace.
When I think about my future as a lawyer, I think about this balancing game women must play to fit into their office culture. I also think about the importance of incorporating more "feminine" features into the work environment.
I believe that people should not have to mute characteristics society has devalued to fit in. Lawyers need to be fierce, professional, hardworking, and competent advocates. Those traits and femininity are not mutually exclusive. In fact, femininity may even enhance features essential to lawyering.
Going forward, while I will continue to hold myself to highest professional and ethical standards, I will not mute who I am as a person to fit into an office. While I don't want to be relegated as outsider, I think it would be worse to change who I am and incidentally perpetuate the devaluation of femininity in the workplace. I may not be the lawyer type, but I will do everything in my power to fight the one-dimensional notion of who a lawyer is and can be.
Sunday, February 10, 2019
On "older women"
I watched the documentary RBG on Friday and I was struck by this line, spoken by the two youngish women periodically interviewed about the significance of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, "Who is more disdained or told to go away than older women?" They then contrast that norm with Justice Ginsburg, on whose word everyone hangs.
This so resonated with me because the older I get, the more I feel disdained. I don't think women have the gravitas that older men enjoy. No, the older women get, the more their clout diminishes. It's the reverse of what I perceive men experience as they age. I'm also recalling something I read back when Bernie and Hillary were vying for the Democratic nomination: Bernie was the cute grandpa, but Hillary was the crazy old woman.
This so resonated with me because the older I get, the more I feel disdained. I don't think women have the gravitas that older men enjoy. No, the older women get, the more their clout diminishes. It's the reverse of what I perceive men experience as they age. I'm also recalling something I read back when Bernie and Hillary were vying for the Democratic nomination: Bernie was the cute grandpa, but Hillary was the crazy old woman.
Why is this?
Saturday, February 9, 2019
Denying women credit for their critical roles in military combat
In part because I have a step son in the military, and in part because women's proper role in the military has been a subject of great controversy over the years, I took special note of this story in yesterday's New York Times, Her Title: Cryptologic Technician. Her Occupation: Warrior. Richard A Oppel, Jr. reports on the life and death of 35-year-old Shannon Kent, who was killed a few weeks ago in a suicide bombing in northern Syria. Oppel writes that Kent, officially a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy, wore body armor and carried an M4 rifle and a Sig Sauer pistol when she was on patrol with special forces like the Navy SEALS. Oppel's point: "for many years women have been doing military jobs as dangerous, secretive and specialized as anything men do."
Oppel quotes extensively Shannon Kent's husband, recently retired after a 20-year career with the Green Berets:
Women like Shannon Kent certainly challenge the image of women as the inferior sex, as somehow less capable than men. She also challenges gender stereotypes that would consign women to domestic roles. Lastly, they remind us that women often don't get their due--they don't get full credit for their contributions, including the risks they take. The story leaves me wondering, among other things, how much a Chief Petty Officer earns, compared to a Navy SEAL. Is Kent's death benefit any less than the other military personnel who died alongside her in that suicide bombing?
Don't miss prior posts under the military label, most on the very topic of women being excluded from combat roles and/or not getting credit for effectively performing those roles.
Oppel quotes extensively Shannon Kent's husband, recently retired after a 20-year career with the Green Berets:
She’d tell me, ‘You can say what you do in two words, but I have to explain over and over to people what I do, and half of them don’t believe me.’ ... As the years went on, she wished she could just say, ‘Hey, I’m Joe, and I’m a Green Beret.’
In many ways, she did way more than any of us who have a funny green hat.
* * *
Her job was to go out and blend her knowledge of cryptology and sigint [signals intelligence] and humint [human intelligence] to help the task force find the right guys to paint the ‘X’ on for a strike or a raid.
She understood how all the pieces came together. She wasn’t just relying on local informants. She knew how to fill in the gaps through her knowledge of different intelligence capabilities. She was kind of a one-stop-shop for finding bad guys.Kent spoke half a dozen Arabic dialects and four other languages. Kent was also a mom; she leaves behind two children, ages 3 and 18 months.
Women like Shannon Kent certainly challenge the image of women as the inferior sex, as somehow less capable than men. She also challenges gender stereotypes that would consign women to domestic roles. Lastly, they remind us that women often don't get their due--they don't get full credit for their contributions, including the risks they take. The story leaves me wondering, among other things, how much a Chief Petty Officer earns, compared to a Navy SEAL. Is Kent's death benefit any less than the other military personnel who died alongside her in that suicide bombing?
Don't miss prior posts under the military label, most on the very topic of women being excluded from combat roles and/or not getting credit for effectively performing those roles.
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Notes on an intersectional feminist’s unabashed love of “The Bachelor”
In the words of the inimitable Roxane Gay, I, too, am a bad feminist. The best part of my month is receiving my Ipsy “glam bag.”[1] I never hesitate to ask a man to carry heavy things. If a guy on a dating app doesn’t text me first, we will likely never speak. But, chief amongst my sins, is the religiosity with which I have followed “The Bachelor” franchise since my senior year of college.[2] And I mean the whole franchise. “The Bachelorette,” “Bachelor in Paradise” - if Chris Harrison is forcing boringly good-looking people to hand out roses, I am there with dip and the few friends I have roped into watching with me this time around.[3]
An ABC fixture since 2002, “The Bachelor” is based on one (straight, white) man’s “journey” to find “true love.” In order to do this, the show finds him 20-30 ladies who are objectively attractive - that is, the majority of them are pretty, thin, again white, and blonde. Each week that year’s Bachelor – lately a fan favorite from the previous year’s “The Bachelorette” – thins his herd of women through the notorious “Rose Ceremony,” in which he asks each lady if they will accept a rose, and thus continue in the competition for another week. Before the ceremony, the Bachelor goes on “dates” with the women. Sometimes, that date is one of the coveted “one-on-one” dates, which is exactly what is sounds like with the addition of a dramatic date activity (like bungee-jumping), a fake dinner, and several camera-people. More often, it is a group date, which ends up being mostly the same, but with a higher chance of drama due to infighting among the contestants. When it gets down to four contestants, the dates get more intimate with hometown visits with the ladies’ families, and, of course, the overnight dates. The finale is supposed to consist of the Bachelor proposing to one of the last two contestants, and thus dumping the other. Fun!
“The Bachelor” and its progeny have consistently been the subjects of criticism and mockery, and why shouldn’t they? The show is excruciatingly heteronormative, with its insistence that a man always proposes to a woman (even on The Bachelorette!) during the finale. With the rise of Instagram stardom as a potential, lucrative post-show career, not being there “for the right reasons” is hardly even scandalous anymore. There has never been a black Bachelor. But, just how bad of a feminist does loving this seemingly anti-feminist show make me?
In defense of the franchise itself, it has been inching towards self-awareness on some of its issues. This season features Colton Underwood as the Bachelor, and, as the show will not let you forget, he is a virgin. Colton is otherwise attractive and nice enough, if a little boring. Facially, the fact that he is a virgin at 26 is surprising. This overemphasis on his virginity has likely led to some interesting discussions and even simple thought exercises about societal expectations of sex and when we expect one to have it. Colton, of course, is not the only member of the “Bachelor Family” who is/was a virgin on the show. Nearly every season, there seems to be one, and nearly every season it is a big deal, something to be confessed as a possible roadblock, or even deal breaker, for the relationship. Sex is the norm on this show - we expect The Bachelor or Bachelorette to sleep with the people who make it to the “fantasy suites." We applaud it, even. This feels at odds with middle America’s – you know; the people we would expect to love "The Bachelor” - sometimes Puritanical view of pre-marital sex. I am of course referencing conservative pushes to challenge Roe vs. Wade, decisions like Hobby Lobby that allow employers to refuse to include birth control coverage in healthcare plans, and the general reluctance to expand access to birth control and comprehensive sex education.
Still, while the show can be read as somewhat sex positive, it also reinforces stereotypes and double standards with respect to societal expectations of men and the amount of sex they should have had by that age. A few seasons ago, on Kaitlyn Bristowe’s season of The Bachelorette, Kaitlyn was slut-shamed for having sex with one of the contestants before the fantasy suite episode. She ended up telling some of the other men about her tryst, most likely at the behest of a producers trying to ensure as much drama as possible. This lies in stark contrast with the teasing Colton is subject to for being a virgin. This is a clear double standard, and many fans and columnists have not forgotten Kaitlyn’s treatment. Maybe, hopefully, this is a sign that the show is making some progress on its views about sex. More likely, it is because producers are hungry for a story.
Colton’s virginity may have been the catalyst for one of the most genuine conversations on the show. Last week, contestant Caelynn Miller-Keyes opened up to Colton about being sexually assaulted in college. Raw, emotional conversations are not a new thing in the world of the Bachelor. Two seasons ago, the Bachelor team managed to get footage of the Bachelor dumping the girl he initially proposed to because he was in love with the technical runner-up. This one felt different though. Miller-Keyes has had practice with this conversation, as fighting for stricter Title IX protections was part of her platform when she competed in Miss USA. Miller-Keyes told her story eloquently, and, perhaps recognizing that much of this conversation would be played on TVs across America, was careful in punctuating specific details. For example, she spoke about how the first hospital she went to refused to administer a rape kit, which, she emphasized, is illegal. Colton, for his part, handled the situation well, mentioning that his ex, and first love, is also a survivor.[4] As a fan, I admit that I love making fun of this show. However, The Bachelor team deserves praise for the way they handled filming and editing this conversation, and thus ensuring that people Bachelor Nation at least had to think about the issues survivors face after a sexual assault, and how a decent man should treat such an admission.
The Bachelor franchise is problematic, even without a critique on its racial dynamics. However, like any piece of pop culture, it can lead to important discussions about gender dynamics, societal expectations, and sometimes even serious issues such as sexual assault. Granted, I don’t always watch in hopes of such discussion. But when it does provide that opportunity, it has the potential to reach audiences who hadn’t dedicated much time to such issues, a result which ends up fostering feminist discussion.
[1] Five make-up products for $10 a month in a cute little bag! Amazing!
[2] I graduated college in 2013.
[3] Which is not to say I haven’t watched alone. I definitely have.
[4] His ex-girlfriend is Olympian Aly Raisman.
An ABC fixture since 2002, “The Bachelor” is based on one (straight, white) man’s “journey” to find “true love.” In order to do this, the show finds him 20-30 ladies who are objectively attractive - that is, the majority of them are pretty, thin, again white, and blonde. Each week that year’s Bachelor – lately a fan favorite from the previous year’s “The Bachelorette” – thins his herd of women through the notorious “Rose Ceremony,” in which he asks each lady if they will accept a rose, and thus continue in the competition for another week. Before the ceremony, the Bachelor goes on “dates” with the women. Sometimes, that date is one of the coveted “one-on-one” dates, which is exactly what is sounds like with the addition of a dramatic date activity (like bungee-jumping), a fake dinner, and several camera-people. More often, it is a group date, which ends up being mostly the same, but with a higher chance of drama due to infighting among the contestants. When it gets down to four contestants, the dates get more intimate with hometown visits with the ladies’ families, and, of course, the overnight dates. The finale is supposed to consist of the Bachelor proposing to one of the last two contestants, and thus dumping the other. Fun!
“The Bachelor” and its progeny have consistently been the subjects of criticism and mockery, and why shouldn’t they? The show is excruciatingly heteronormative, with its insistence that a man always proposes to a woman (even on The Bachelorette!) during the finale. With the rise of Instagram stardom as a potential, lucrative post-show career, not being there “for the right reasons” is hardly even scandalous anymore. There has never been a black Bachelor. But, just how bad of a feminist does loving this seemingly anti-feminist show make me?
In defense of the franchise itself, it has been inching towards self-awareness on some of its issues. This season features Colton Underwood as the Bachelor, and, as the show will not let you forget, he is a virgin. Colton is otherwise attractive and nice enough, if a little boring. Facially, the fact that he is a virgin at 26 is surprising. This overemphasis on his virginity has likely led to some interesting discussions and even simple thought exercises about societal expectations of sex and when we expect one to have it. Colton, of course, is not the only member of the “Bachelor Family” who is/was a virgin on the show. Nearly every season, there seems to be one, and nearly every season it is a big deal, something to be confessed as a possible roadblock, or even deal breaker, for the relationship. Sex is the norm on this show - we expect The Bachelor or Bachelorette to sleep with the people who make it to the “fantasy suites." We applaud it, even. This feels at odds with middle America’s – you know; the people we would expect to love "The Bachelor” - sometimes Puritanical view of pre-marital sex. I am of course referencing conservative pushes to challenge Roe vs. Wade, decisions like Hobby Lobby that allow employers to refuse to include birth control coverage in healthcare plans, and the general reluctance to expand access to birth control and comprehensive sex education.
Still, while the show can be read as somewhat sex positive, it also reinforces stereotypes and double standards with respect to societal expectations of men and the amount of sex they should have had by that age. A few seasons ago, on Kaitlyn Bristowe’s season of The Bachelorette, Kaitlyn was slut-shamed for having sex with one of the contestants before the fantasy suite episode. She ended up telling some of the other men about her tryst, most likely at the behest of a producers trying to ensure as much drama as possible. This lies in stark contrast with the teasing Colton is subject to for being a virgin. This is a clear double standard, and many fans and columnists have not forgotten Kaitlyn’s treatment. Maybe, hopefully, this is a sign that the show is making some progress on its views about sex. More likely, it is because producers are hungry for a story.
Colton’s virginity may have been the catalyst for one of the most genuine conversations on the show. Last week, contestant Caelynn Miller-Keyes opened up to Colton about being sexually assaulted in college. Raw, emotional conversations are not a new thing in the world of the Bachelor. Two seasons ago, the Bachelor team managed to get footage of the Bachelor dumping the girl he initially proposed to because he was in love with the technical runner-up. This one felt different though. Miller-Keyes has had practice with this conversation, as fighting for stricter Title IX protections was part of her platform when she competed in Miss USA. Miller-Keyes told her story eloquently, and, perhaps recognizing that much of this conversation would be played on TVs across America, was careful in punctuating specific details. For example, she spoke about how the first hospital she went to refused to administer a rape kit, which, she emphasized, is illegal. Colton, for his part, handled the situation well, mentioning that his ex, and first love, is also a survivor.[4] As a fan, I admit that I love making fun of this show. However, The Bachelor team deserves praise for the way they handled filming and editing this conversation, and thus ensuring that people Bachelor Nation at least had to think about the issues survivors face after a sexual assault, and how a decent man should treat such an admission.
The Bachelor franchise is problematic, even without a critique on its racial dynamics. However, like any piece of pop culture, it can lead to important discussions about gender dynamics, societal expectations, and sometimes even serious issues such as sexual assault. Granted, I don’t always watch in hopes of such discussion. But when it does provide that opportunity, it has the potential to reach audiences who hadn’t dedicated much time to such issues, a result which ends up fostering feminist discussion.
[1] Five make-up products for $10 a month in a cute little bag! Amazing!
[2] I graduated college in 2013.
[3] Which is not to say I haven’t watched alone. I definitely have.
[4] His ex-girlfriend is Olympian Aly Raisman.
Exposing the race and privilege shield in college sexual assault and rape cases
Brock Turner, Jacob Anderson, Cory Batey, and Tevin Elliott are young American men commonly associated with sexual assault and rape. Despite committing the same heinous and despicable crime, these men faced drastically different punishments, apparently because of their race and respective privileges.
Brock Turner, a 19-year-old white male and Stanford University swimmer, faced multiple felony charges, including assault with the intent to rape an intoxicated woman. Numerous eyewitnesses corroborated the victim’s allegations and testified that they saw Turner forcibly penetrate the unconscious victim behind a dumpster.
Although a jury found Turner guilty of multiple felony rape offenses that typically carry a lengthy prison sentence, Santa Clara County Superior Court Judge Aaron Perksy sentenced Turner to six months in the local county jail, with the possibility of release within three months. In issuing the sentence, Judge Perksy viewed Turner’s alcohol impairment, character references, and lack of prior criminal record as mitigating factors. Moreover, Judge Perksy further justified his decision to award a lighter sentence by expressing his concern around the “severe impact that state prison could have on someone Turner’s age and the adverse collateral consequences on Turner’s life from a felony conviction.”
Similarly, Jacob Anderson, a white male and Baylor University fraternity president, faced charges of drugging and raping a 19-year-old female student. Ironically, this despicable act occurred in Waco, Texas, a city commonly known as “the buckle of the Bible Belt” and at a university with a sexual assault policy that prides itself on “expecting its students, faculty, and staff to engage in behaviors consistent with a Biblical understanding that physical sexual intimacy is to be expressed in the context of marital fidelity.”
However, as James C. Moore of CNN News aptly noted, “the Bible Belt seems often to be unbuckled.” Despite the city and university’s alleged adoption of these noble Biblical ideals, the court showed lenience when punishing Anderson.
Brock Turner, a 19-year-old white male and Stanford University swimmer, faced multiple felony charges, including assault with the intent to rape an intoxicated woman. Numerous eyewitnesses corroborated the victim’s allegations and testified that they saw Turner forcibly penetrate the unconscious victim behind a dumpster.
Although a jury found Turner guilty of multiple felony rape offenses that typically carry a lengthy prison sentence, Santa Clara County Superior Court Judge Aaron Perksy sentenced Turner to six months in the local county jail, with the possibility of release within three months. In issuing the sentence, Judge Perksy viewed Turner’s alcohol impairment, character references, and lack of prior criminal record as mitigating factors. Moreover, Judge Perksy further justified his decision to award a lighter sentence by expressing his concern around the “severe impact that state prison could have on someone Turner’s age and the adverse collateral consequences on Turner’s life from a felony conviction.”
Similarly, Jacob Anderson, a white male and Baylor University fraternity president, faced charges of drugging and raping a 19-year-old female student. Ironically, this despicable act occurred in Waco, Texas, a city commonly known as “the buckle of the Bible Belt” and at a university with a sexual assault policy that prides itself on “expecting its students, faculty, and staff to engage in behaviors consistent with a Biblical understanding that physical sexual intimacy is to be expressed in the context of marital fidelity.”
However, as James C. Moore of CNN News aptly noted, “the Bible Belt seems often to be unbuckled.” Despite the city and university’s alleged adoption of these noble Biblical ideals, the court showed lenience when punishing Anderson.
A Texas district judge allowed Anderson to plead to a lesser charge of unlawful restraint. Under this lesser charge, the court only required Anderson to pay a $400 fine and attend substance abuse and psychological treatment sessions. Anderson faced no prison time and escaped being publicly listed as sex offender, much to the general public’s dismay.
When looking at Turner and Anderson's cases in isolation, the race and privilege undertones behind their sentences may not be readily apparent. However, when comparing their sentences to other sentences for similar crimes, the role of race and privilege becomes painstakingly obvious.
For example, consider Tevin Elliott, a 20-year-old African American male and Baylor University football player. Elliott faced charges of sexual assault and rape, charges that were practically identical to the ones fellow Baylor student Jacob Anderson faced. However, their sentences differed significantly, as the judge sentenced Elliott to the 20 year maximum. Unlike Anderson, the judge gave Elliot no opportunity to plead to a lesser charge and denied his request for probation to raise his sons.
Similarly, Corey Batey, a 19-year-old African American male and Vanderbilt University football player, faced charges of sexually assaulting and raping an unconscious woman. Although the charges and evidence provided in Batey’s case closely resembled those against Turner, the outcomes varied starkly. While Turner was convicted of multiple felony charges and sentenced to only six months in a local prison, Batey was found guilty of three felony counts of rape and aggravated sexual battery. He was sentenced to 15-to-25 years in prison.
Shaun King of The New York Daily News highlights that Batey’s sentence was “3,000 percent longer than what Brock Turner was a given for a comparable crime.” King further emphasizes this harsh racialized reality by stating that “One man is black and the other is white. I won’t even ask you to guess which is which. This is America.” Unlike Turner’s case, the judge in Batey's case failed to consider the potential impact of incarceration on Batey’s future or the presence of any other mitigating factors.
While the racial implications of these sentences are themselves deeply troubling, what is even more unsettling and under-appreciated is their negative impact on female victims. Failing to hold these men equally accountable merely because of the color of their skin and socioeconomic status atrociously devalues the pain and trauma of their victims.
When looking at Turner and Anderson's cases in isolation, the race and privilege undertones behind their sentences may not be readily apparent. However, when comparing their sentences to other sentences for similar crimes, the role of race and privilege becomes painstakingly obvious.
For example, consider Tevin Elliott, a 20-year-old African American male and Baylor University football player. Elliott faced charges of sexual assault and rape, charges that were practically identical to the ones fellow Baylor student Jacob Anderson faced. However, their sentences differed significantly, as the judge sentenced Elliott to the 20 year maximum. Unlike Anderson, the judge gave Elliot no opportunity to plead to a lesser charge and denied his request for probation to raise his sons.
Similarly, Corey Batey, a 19-year-old African American male and Vanderbilt University football player, faced charges of sexually assaulting and raping an unconscious woman. Although the charges and evidence provided in Batey’s case closely resembled those against Turner, the outcomes varied starkly. While Turner was convicted of multiple felony charges and sentenced to only six months in a local prison, Batey was found guilty of three felony counts of rape and aggravated sexual battery. He was sentenced to 15-to-25 years in prison.
Shaun King of The New York Daily News highlights that Batey’s sentence was “3,000 percent longer than what Brock Turner was a given for a comparable crime.” King further emphasizes this harsh racialized reality by stating that “One man is black and the other is white. I won’t even ask you to guess which is which. This is America.” Unlike Turner’s case, the judge in Batey's case failed to consider the potential impact of incarceration on Batey’s future or the presence of any other mitigating factors.
While the racial implications of these sentences are themselves deeply troubling, what is even more unsettling and under-appreciated is their negative impact on female victims. Failing to hold these men equally accountable merely because of the color of their skin and socioeconomic status atrociously devalues the pain and trauma of their victims.
Failing to hold these male perpetrators accountable diverts the focus away from obtaining justice for the victim to crafting arbitrary distinctions between perpetrators based on characteristics completely unrelated to the crimes they commit. The disparity in treatment of perpetrators ultimately disservices the victims of rape and sexual assault by resting their violators fate on their appearance and respective wealth rather than solely focusing on the nature and circumstances of the atrocities they commit.
These sentencing inequalities build a system where victims will only receive protection and justice if their perpetrators are people of color because those perpetrators are held to a higher standard and face harsher punishments for their actions. As the Sentencing Project’s 2013 report articulated, African-American males are six times more likely to go to prison than white males.
These sentencing inequalities build a system where victims will only receive protection and justice if their perpetrators are people of color because those perpetrators are held to a higher standard and face harsher punishments for their actions. As the Sentencing Project’s 2013 report articulated, African-American males are six times more likely to go to prison than white males.
But the question still remains: Why should a white male be treated any differently than an African-American male if their actions are virtually identical? Why should race and privilege shield some perpetrators while condemning others to a life sentence?
If a white male’s actions are equivalent in nature to those of an African-American male, they should be equally scrutinized and held accountable to the same high standard. Treating perpetrators differently is extremely unfair to victims, especially those of white male perpetrators. It forces these victims to live in a world where their violators potentially get off scot free.
If a white male’s actions are equivalent in nature to those of an African-American male, they should be equally scrutinized and held accountable to the same high standard. Treating perpetrators differently is extremely unfair to victims, especially those of white male perpetrators. It forces these victims to live in a world where their violators potentially get off scot free.
As the victim in Jacob Anderson's case described it, “[my perpetrator] is now free to roam society, stalk women, and no one will know that he is a sex offender.” Without perpetrators of similar crimes experiencing equivalent negative consequences, how can we expect victims to experience redemption?
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