Tuesday 31 January 2012

The day I defended our grammatical right to choose, or why people need to stop arguing about the Oxford comma.

You know what I am SUPER sick of? THIS PICTURE:


I appreciate its humour. I really do. The bottom picture? HILAIR. (Okay, I've never said "hilair" before in my life. It felt weird.)

WAIT. WAIT. Do you want to know what I just did? I was seriously IN THE MIDDLE of writing a works cited page for a response paper I was working on...like all it says right now is:

Works Cited  
Freeman, Elizabeth. Time Binds

That's not even the full title!! And I have the book open on my lap as if I'm going to get the rest of the information out of it but I HAVEN'T DONE IT. How did I end up here writing about strippers and Oxford commas? Let's try this again.

Okay. Works cited done. Back to the commas and the strippers. I am not sick of this picture because it's not funny. And I'm sick of it only partially because it's been circulating for like a year or so now and it still pops up in my news feed every once in a while and people are all like "LOLOLOLOLOL punctuation is funny" and I'm all like SERIOUSLY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS SEEN THIS 900 TIMES? STOP LAUGHING. AND ALSO I'VE BEEN TRYING TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO PAY ATTENTION TO PUNCTUATION MY ENTIRE LIFE AND THIS IS WHAT IT TOOK TO GET YOU TO PAY ATTENTION? DEAD WORLD LEADERS IN LINGERIE?

The real reason I'm sick of this picture is because people use it as an excuse to get into a Facebook photo comments debate about the Oxford comma. First of all, debates should just not take place there. Too many people get too many notifications they don't want and inevitably the conversation turns into one person saying "I CAN'T TRUST YOU BECAUSE YOU SPELLED SOMETHING WRONG" and the other person responding "ONLY PRETENSHUS DOUCHEBAGS CORRECT SPELLING ON FACEBOOK," which is hilarious in this instance because the entire argument was about a comma in the first place and also they spelled "pretentious" wrong because only pretentious people know how to spell that. Second of all, THIS DEBATE IS STUPID. Yes, there are instances where the Oxford comma clears up possible misunderstandings, like when you're inviting the strippers, JFK and Stalin somewhere, or when you're having eggs, toast and orange juice for breakfast. (Is the orange juice on the toast or alongside it?!?! What?!?! How can I tell?!?! THINK ABOUT IT, YOU KNOB!) But you know what? Sometimes the Oxford comma is the CAUSE of these misunderstandings. What if I write: "We invited JFK, the stripper, and Stalin"? OMG THAT SOUNDS LIKE JFK IS A STRIPPER. I'm so funny.

So here's the deal. Sometimes using the Oxford comma can cause problems, and sometimes not using the Oxford comma can cause problems. And sometimes these problems are funny! And we should totally giggle about them! But using the Oxford comma (or not) is a stylistic choice. Neither way is right or wrong. If you're following a specific style guide, check with that style guide to see if they use it or not and then do what the style guide says. As Jeff Deck and Benjamin D. Henson point out in The Great Typo Hunt, the Associated Press style guide eliminates "anything deemed unnecessary for communicating an idea," including the Oxford (or serial) comma (81). (LOOK. I cited it. That's how professional I'm being about this.) From what I remember about copy editing for my undergraduate student newspaper, the Canadian Press style guide doesn't use the Oxford comma either. I have just consulted my copy of the seventh edition of the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers and apparently MLA uses the Oxford comma (67), although I don't. Here is what Lynne Truss has to say about it in her book Eats, Shoot and Leaves:
See that comma-shaped shark fin ominously slicing through the waves in this direction? Hear that staccato cello? Well, start waving and yelling, because it is the so-called Oxford comma (also known as the serial comma) and it is a lot more dangerous than its exclusive, ivory-tower moniker might suggest. There are people who embrace the Oxford comma and people who don't, and I'll just say this: never get between these people when drink has been taken. Oh, the Oxford comma..... In Britain, where standard usage is to leave it out, there are those who put it in--including, interestingly, Fowler's Modern English Usage. In America, conversely, where standard usage is to leave it in, there are those who make a point of removing it (especially journalists).... My own feeling is that one shouldn't be too rigid about the Oxford comma. Sometimes the sentence is improved by including it; sometimes it isn't. (84-85)
The woman, who calls herself a stickler and was berated by many (including Deck and Henson) for being too strict with the rules, says it doesn't matter.

So I don't care what you have to say about it. I refuse to argue with you about it. You can use it, or you can leave it out. It's a stylistic choice. And I believe in your right to choose to make your sentences as clear or as opaque as you like. If you want people to think your mother is a pirate, go ahead and write, "I invited my mother, a pirate, and my high school English teacher." (Regardless of whether or not your mother is the pirate, this sounds like a fascinating get-together.) Please respect others' right to make this choice.

The (soon-to-be) Master has spoken. Get over it.

In other news, this video is HILAIR. No strippers. No commas! Just one word.




Tuesday 24 January 2012

The day I finally wrote about blogging and resistance, or why (despite how bleak things seem) all hope is not lost.

So I promised in my last post that I would talk about blogging and resistance. And I will. Right now. This is a terrible introduction and I'm not sure how to transition to my point now. I'm just going to do it.

This term, the mandatory cultural studies and critical theory course is focused on the theme of resistance. And, consequently, I've been thinking a lot about the practicalities of resistance--how can we productively resist? Are there forms of productive resistance that do not involve putting my life and body in danger? If I'm not putting my life as I know it in danger, then am I using my privilege as a crutch? Am I not resisting my own privilege...and if not, how can I productively resist anything? And then, of course, there's the other side of that--if I am in a place where I do not have the privilege to put my life on the line (and by life I mean literal life, as in beating heart and breathing and all that, but also my lifestyle and the realities of my day-to-day life), am I denied the privilege to resist? And should I then be focusing on resisting a system that does not allow equal access to resistance? But what does "resistance" even mean? Is all resistance created equal? Is resistance to gay marriage equal to the resistance to capitalism and neoliberalism demonstrated by the Occupy Wall Street protesters? And how useful is it for me to be sitting here contemplating resistance and the different forms of resistance when I could be out there (wherever there is...I have a feeling it's in that pesky "real world" that I keep having trouble locating...) resisting something? But why should I resist something just for the sake of resisting something?

"Resist" doesn't look like a word anymore.

There's this idea that the Internet represents this open, democratic space--perfect for resistance of all kinds! (No, I'm not going to cite my sources on that one. This is a blog, not an academic paper, and I'm going to milk that for all it's worth. So no citations! HA! You're just going to have to trust me that this idea exists.) And while to some extent I agree with this, because, as this blog proves, anyone can pretty much publish anything they want for free on the Internet, there's still a problem of access. And I don't just mean that there are people who don't have computers or wi-fi or whatever (while that is true). I mean that not all web pages can be found. I mean that powerful companies can purchase "space" on the Internet--not literal space, but highly visible spots on Google's search results and things like that. You can buy visibility online--with money and/or time. I say time because I know there are a lot of really popular blogs and personal sites out there that barely cost any money, but they require a ton of dedication, and most people (myself included) do not have that kind of time.

Sure, with my little blog I have a bit of influence--the 100 or so people who read it are subjected to my opinions and maybe take something from them. But that's an incredibly small portion of the population, and I won't really be able to raise that number unless I dedicate my time to increasing my online visibility. And even then, only certain people, people who are "predisposed" to my kind of thinking, will be the ones that read it. Last week in class, a fellow student showed the following video as part of a presentation. It's a TED talk by Eli Pariser about how Google and Facebook and others are tailoring what you see online--and while they're giving you what you supposedly want, they're also filtering out the other side of the story.


Thanks for this, Shaun!

So things are looking pretty bleak. Maybe blogging is not the be-all end-all of resistance it was once thought to be. (Again, I'm not citing that. I've just decided that's what it was once thought to be. Deal with it.) But then I start thinking about three of the blogs I read for fun, which are incredibly popular and widely read. These are blogs that aren't political by any means--they're funny and entertaining, focused mostly on the ridiculousness of everyday life. And yet, there is a resistant element to all of these blogs. At one time or another, the women who write these three blogs that I'm talking about have spoken out about, and resisted the stigma against, mental illness.


via Hyperbole and a Half

On Hyperbole and a Half, Allie openly discusses her adventures with depression. On The Bloggess, Jenny writes about her personal battle with depression and self-harm. (And Jenny started the silver ribbon campaign to raise awareness about self-harm that took over Twitter a few weeks ago!) On Nicole is Better, Nicole Antoinette talks about depression and her time "in the hole" eating candy canes in the dark--and her support system that pulled her back out. And I think this is incredibly powerful. The visibility that these women have in the blogosphere is incredible, and, I would argue, widespread--they're not stuck with a particular political audience, because these are personal blogs. They're resisting the idea that real, personal lives aren't affected by mental illness and ableism. And the fact that they are willing to speak out, to resist, is mindblowing. Kudos, ladies! You help me keep believing :)

Tuesday 17 January 2012

The day I didn't shower but posted pictures of myself anyway, or why I feel qualified to give Lorelai Gilmore parenting advice.

So I intended to post something new over the weekend, but clearly that did not happen. I had a whole plan! On Saturday I was going to get a ton of school work done and then Sunday I would write a blog post and then relax. But then I got sick. It was like a cold on steroids. There were the regular cold symptoms and then there was this pressure in my sinuses and this shooting pain behind my eyes that made doing pretty much anything besides drinking echinacea tea and watching Gilmore Girls incredibly painful and dizzy-ing. But I'm feeling much better now! Apparently echinacea tea and Gilmore Girls is the miracle cure. I'm thinking it had more to do with the Gilmore Girls, though...

Seriously, though, I have a question for all the hardcore Gilmore Girls fans out there. How pissed does the beginning of the sixth season make you?!?! I try so hard to be happy for Luke and Lorelai because they're engaged and everything but I can't help fixating on the fact that Lorelai is supposed to be the coolest mom ever and she TOTALLY BLEW IT. I know that it's incredibly annoying when people who don't have children start criticizing other people's parenting skills, but Lorelai is not real, so I feel like this should be considered an exception to the rule. So for those of you not in the loop (and for some reason still reading...), Lorelai's daughter Rory gets torn apart by her boyfriend's family (not literally), then hired as an intern at her boyfriend's father's newspaper, then torn apart for her performance there (again, not literally) which is terribly depressing because all Rory ever wanted in life was to be a journalist, then she (literally) steals a yacht with her boyfriend and gets arrested and then she decides to take some time off from school. Now, after all of that, Lorelai decides to REFUSE TO SPEAK TO HER DAUGHTER because...wait for it......................she's taking time off of school. No, not because SHE STOLE A YACHT, but because she's taking time off of school. And apparently really smart people like Rory never take time off or question what they want to do with their lives or anything silly like that. And then Rory's grandfather realizes that Rory is throwing her life away because she's working for the DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) while she's out of school which, again, is completely ridiculous, because the girl is 20 and she's organizing huge charity events and stuff and that shit is really hard and really what boggled my mind more was the fact that politically progressive Rory decided to raise money for the soldiers in Iraq and didn't, you know, mention the fact that she likely does not support the war in Iraq. I mean, I'm sure she supports the individual soldiers, but donating mass amounts of money to the war in Iraq doesn't really seem like a Rory thing to do. Well, except for the fact that unlike her mother, who I usually adore, Rory is a total pushover. Except at the very end of the series. Did you know she goes off and follows OBAMA'S PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN? The first one, not this one. The show's over. Anyway, that's how awesome she is. And ANYWAY, I think it's really shitty parenting when you refuse to support your child when he/she takes a path that is only slightly different from the one you intended for her. Also, seriously, don't live vicariously through your child. Just because you, Lorelai Gilmore, didn't get to graduate from high school and go to college does not mean you should force your daughter to push her way through the education system at top speed if she doesn't want to. And keep in mind that I'm a grad student--one that's never taken ANY time off from school since I started kindergarten--and I'm saying that it's totally cool and normal and probably a good idea to take time off if you feel like you need it. I think that open-minded-ness on my part cancels out the whole unsolicited-parenting-advice-from-someone-with-no-kids thing.

Okay, Gilmore Girls rant over. And yes, for those of you who were wondering, I am aware that these people are fictional, okay? Don't judge me. I don't judge all you people when you rant for HOURS about Harry Potter. Okay, I do. But there's a lot more of you than there are of me!

Anyway, Thursday is my birthday (yay! I love birthdays!) and my parents came to visit me on Sunday night to celebrate. And they brought me one of my most awesome-est SWAGmas presents that I accidentally left behind.

Check it out:






Okay, so I haven't showered today. NO JUDGING. We've been through this already. Stop judging me. Anyway, it's a SWAGmas mug!!! Look at all the SWAG!!!!! And it's like nine kinds of offensive and I get that but I think swag by nature is offensive and I don't really care right now because I don't feel like caring and it's my birthday so again: don't judge me.

I actually did get a birthday present too, but it was underwear and I'm totally not posting pictures of my underwear online. Although I did open the present at a restaurant and I have to say that despite my general open-minded-ness about underclothing and other things, underwear does not belong on the dinner table. It's weird.

Anyway, I had every intention of talking about something smart today and I DO have something intelligent to say about blogging and resistance but honestly I don't have time because I was sick with the cold on steroids and now I'm really behind on my readings and I have to lead a seminar discussion on Friday and go to a professionalization seminar on academic publishing tomorrow and I want to actually have time to celebrate my birthday on Thursday because I effing love birthdays and I love mine even more this year because I'm not old! I realize that sounds counterintuitive but for YEARS I was one of the oldest out of my friends...not only am I a January baby, but Jimmifer is a year and a half younger than me and for some reason he made friends with a bunch of people even younger than him so now a bunch of my really good friends are more than two years younger than me which makes me feel OLD but due to the whole trend of people taking time off from school (see, Lorelai? It's totally normal and acceptable!), a lot of people in grad school are older than me. Especially the PhD students, because barring any child-genius thing, they have to be older than me. Anyway, now 23 doesn't seem so old. And I'm excited. And I need to go read. Ta-ta for now!

Tuesday 10 January 2012

The day of family bonding, or why looking like Jimand isn't the only reason I should spend time with him.

So I had one of those experiences over the holidays where I became a REAL BLOGGER. Something happened when I was with my family, and Jimand said, "You're going to blog about this, aren't you?" And I was like MUAHAHAHA YES I AM. I AM A BLOGGER AND WILL UNABASHEDLY USE YOUR REAL LIFE AS STORY FODDER. (Sidenote: you know what's great? The word "fodder." Fodder fodder fodder.) Anyway, back to the story. For Christmas, my aunt made this slideshow of family Christmas photos--kind of like the ghost of Christmas past, except happy. Anyway, I spent Christmas Day with Jimmifer's family, so I didn't see the slideshow with the rest of my family. So one evening my mom (Mad) decided to show it to Jimmifer and me, despite the fact that Jimand said we wouldn't want to see it (foreshadowing! FORESHADOWING!) So we're watching the slideshow and it's a cute and funny trip down memory lane...and then. And then. And then there appears this picture of Jimand and his siblings sitting around their Christmas tree as children. Jimand, the oldest, is about fifteen or so and has this long hair, probably just longer than shoulder-length. Kind of the same length my hair is now. And holy shit. HOLY SHIT. People have told me my entire life that I looked like Jimand. I'm sure most of you have been told you look like someone in your family before, but you never really see it for yourself, right? But this picture...I looked at Jimand, and I saw me. I got slapped in the face with a good ol' dose of HOLY FUCK I LOOK LIKE MY DAD.

Jimand seems to think I was completely traumatized by this event, which I'm fairly certain he takes as an insult (okay, who wouldn't?), and Mad seems to think that now I'm going to grow up and look like a man. Thanks, mommy dearest.

Anyway, this event, and the spirit of the holiday season in general, got me thinking a lot about family, and what family is and what it means and if there is even a remotely easy answer to these questions that doesn't devolve into some abstract nature versus nurture debate that I am so not equipped to deal with. Anyway, for a lot of us, the past few weeks were a time for "family." But what does that mean? Clearly not all of us spend this family time in the same way. In fact, I spent my "family time" with four different variations of "family" over the holidays. Maybe you could make an argument for five. Or actually six. And that doesn't even cover everyone that is a close blood relative of mine, and that does cover a number of people I am not *technically* related to.

There has been so much talk in North American politics in recent years--and pretty much ever since feminist backlash and gay rights backlash and *insert progressive movement here* backlash has existed, which is like FOREVER--about preserving the "family" and doing what good for the "family" and making sure "families" can be economically self-sufficient, but I'm still unsure what this "family" looks like. I mean, I assume we're talking "traditional" families here--you know, heterosexual couple with two and three-quarters kids or whatever that live in a suburban home all by themselves, just the 4.75 of them. And this preservation of "tradition" is complete bullshit to me and I have so much I could say about how this is clearly homophobic and also classist and racist and sexist (I mean, it's not NECESSARILY sexist but this preservation of the "traditional family" usually requires a mom that stays at home for at least a few years or at the very least expects the family to follow certain traditional gender roles and it's cool if that's what you WANT to do but it's kind of forced on people sooo yeah...sexist) and ableist and pretty much everything else. I admit I spent a considerable amount of time on Saturday night ranting about how the NHL's practice of inviting the team's fathers to go on a trip with the team to an away game is just reinforcing the idea that if your family doesn't fit the traditional idea of what a family is then you're not "normal" and you have to "come out" about why your family isn't the way it "should be." There may have been red wine and ouzo involved in this rant, but still. (NOT mixed together!!! Ew. Ew ew ew.)

However, this isn't specifically what I wanted to talk about. What I've been thinking about is how "family" doesn't even mean what we're told it means WITHIN these so-called traditional families. And about how we try to figure out what our own roles are within our families. Because I've noticed a lot of stuff. I can't speak from experience on what it's like to have a family that doesn't look "normal." (I know pretty much all of my relatives just burst out laughing right now, but I don't mean normal in THAT way--trust me, I've noticed the lack of normalcy--I mean STRUCTURALLY normal. I'm not so maladjusted that I don't recognize batshit crazy when I see it.) My family, particularly my immediate family, is more or less traditional in structure. Jimand and Mad are a cisgendered, heterosexual couple and they were officially married in a church and they bought a home in the suburbs and then had a kid (ME!) and Jimand continued to work full time and Mad stayed home with me for about 10 years before going back to work. And both Jimand and Mad came from fairly similar family structures, with some variations and also quite a few more children. And our little three-person family is awesome. And we see each other a lot, because we're buddies like that (even when Jimand retroactively causes childhood trauma), but that isn't all our family is--we're not some sort of self-sufficient unit. Over the past six years, we've expanded our family and let Jimmifer in, to the point where Jimand mentioned Jimmifer in his retirement speech and my parents get Christmas cards addressed to the four of us and Jimand even buys Jimmifer groceries when we come home to visit...and, come to think of it, he has routinely bought Jimmifer iced tea and orange juice and forgot to buy ME anything...most people aren't aware that when you're an only child, you're still not always the favourite. BEWARE, ONLY CHILDREN. Your partner may replace you in your parents' eyes.

What I understand to be my "family" has entered a sort of grey area. Are Jimmifer and I "family"? Technically, we're not married. But we live together and go to pretty much every family event together and have for years. So is his extended family my family now too? Is your family defined by who you spend the holidays and special occasions with? Like I mentioned previously, that means I have six different families. I think a lot of people would agree that Jimand and Mad and my aunts and uncles and cousins are definitely my family, and Jimmifer's family probably is too at this point. But what about my super awesome friend whom I see only a few times a year (due to geographical and financial issues) but whom I saw nearly every day over the holidays? (Did I use "whom" properly? I always have issues with "who" and "whom"...) I helped her family decorate their Christmas tree and spent the night of Christmas Day with them too. Is she my family? And what about Jimmifer's very tight-nit group of friends from back home? I would argue that they are loyal like a family, they argue like a family and they welcome Jimmifer and I back home every time we visit just like a family would (or should, I suppose). Are they our family? And what about Jimand's best friend and his family? I've known them my entire life and have probably actually spent more time with them than with my *real* family. I realize that's only five. I was separating Jimand's relatives from Mad's relatives because we saw them at different times.

But I think a lot people would still argue that our blood relatives (and those blood relatives we inherit through marriage and other committed partnerships) should still be privileged over friends who we choose as our family. And I don't one hundred per cent disagree, but I'm still not sure. Now here's my nature/nurture confusion. Do we spend time with our families because we're actually genetically connected in some way? How much are we REALLY like our families? Sure, clearly I look a lot like Jimand, and it's funny when I hug my cousin on Mad's side because we have pretty much the EXACT same bodies, so it's like hugging ourselves, but does that mean we're REALLY alike? Or just physically alike? A lot of the time, I find various members of my family grasping at straws, attempting to find things we have in common. Sometimes, I think they probably have a point. Other times...well, let's just say that I'm not so sure that a fondness for salami and dijon mustard sandwiches is something that was passed down from Jimand's ancestors. It MAY have something to do with the fact that everyone on that side of the family grew up eating it together... And sometimes, we end up finding out that things "the family" has in common cross those blood lines. What about when Jimand has something in common with Mad's brother's kids? Or when I have something in common with Jimand's sister's husband? We all look kind of stumped when that happens. Flabbergasted, even! (Okay, no we don't, I just wanted to say "flabbergasted.") But really, do we NEED to validate our relationships with our various family members with some sort of genetic connection? Do we NEED to create some sort of "family obligation" out of these blood ties in order to still see one another?

Instead, let's say:
Hey, I want to continue spending holidays and other occasions with you, because you have been an important part of my life, and you were there as I grew up (or maybe I was there as you grew up), and I want to continue to know you and be there for you. And we have a lot of overlapping memories and stories--even if we weren't actually, we've all heard the same stories about 'back in the day.' But you know what, due to geographical or generational or whatever issues, it's not realistic that we're going to spend ALL our time together, so a handful of times a year is good, and I also want to expand my 'family' to include other people I love and want to share my life experiences with, even if we have no genetic connection. Sure, as a *real* family, we may all like the same movies or sandwiches or beer, but I also have this habit of buying the same clothes as one of my best friends, despite the fact that we live really far away from each and never really shop together. So I don't know which is 'nature' and which is 'nurture,' and I don't care. We have important, and less important, stuff in common. And I love that. I need that.
I love my family, in all its various forms, and I love spending time with them. ALL of them. The ones I picked, and the ones I didn't.


Either way...I LOOK LIKE JIMAND. WTF. (The picture isn't Jimand. I just included it because it was relevant to the theme of this post and Jimand quotes that song. Don't worry.)

UPDATED! (January 12, 2012)

Here is the photo I was talking about, provided by my lovely aunt:


So that's Jimand, by the Christmas tree. And here's me, looking like a Christmas tree:


DO YOU SEE WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. YES. Yes you do. Because it's impossible to miss.

Wednesday 4 January 2012

The day I was feminist enough, or why refreshing, rethinking and redefining feminism can be a disaster or it can be AWESOME.

So I was going to write a post about family and the holidays and all that stuff as my first post back from vacation but then last night I stumbled upon this website and I decided to write about it instead.

The website is called "I'm Feminist Enough..." and it currently features three videos of women finishing that sentence. Like "I'm feminist enough not to judge other women" or "I'm feminist enough to  paint my nails before I go camping." Shannon Washington, the creator of the site, was inspired (or provoked) by Beyonce's comment in an interview sometime in 2011. When asked if she was a feminist, Beyonce said:
I don’t really feel that it’s necessary to define it. It’s just something that’s kind of natural for me, and I feel like…you know…it’s, like, what I live for.... I need to find a catchy new word for feminism, right? Like Bootylicious.
Washington found this rather troubling. What's wrong with feminism? But Washington says that for "many women of color, especially young women, the word 'feminist' provokes an image that is antiquated, overtly-aggressive, anti-male and white." (You have NO IDEA how much it pains me to write "color" instead of "colour" when I'm quoting someone American.) But, uh, to me, "bootylicious" provokes a highly sexualized image of women. Something new and different! (That was sarcasm...) So Washington decided that it was time to rethink and refresh feminism, specifically for women of colour. (HA. Spelled it my way. Paraphrasing is super cool.) And thus "I'm Feminist Enough..." was born! Washington writes:
Using video and still imagery, the 'I’m Feminist Enough…' project seeks to visualize the fresh face of feminism and demonstrate to our young sisters (and brothers) the value of feminist thought in our daily lives in a manner that is simple, sexy, modern and easy. Yes, you can be a feminist but get a kick out having the door held open for you. These actions don’t define your place as a woman, you do.
Awesome. But this isn't just a post advertising this site (although it kind of is...). I have some thoughts about it.

Obviously, I am not a woman of colour (well, actually I suppose that wasn't obvious until right now since you can't see me...), and I want to start by saying that in no way am I attempting to speak on behalf of anyone else. Feminism has not always been kind of women of colour, and it still isn't (remember some of the incidents at Slutwalk?), and I acknowledge that and in no way want to excuse that. However, I do want to think about what feminism means and what movements like this one that "refresh" feminism are doing. This website sparked ideas that I've been thinking about for a long time, so I'm taking my ideas and running with them, but I do not mean to erase the really fucking important shit that Washington is addressing when she talks about redefining feminism for women of colour. 

So I think I could look at this "I'm Feminist Enough..." movement one of two ways. First of all, the cynical way. I could say that these videos are promoting the idea that as long as a woman (or man or anyone else) calls herself a "feminist," then everything she does, from shaving her head to paying her own bills to running a company to painting her nails before going on a camping trip, is a feminist or radical act. And I have a problem with that. Because unless you discover some radical, transgressive way to paint your nails, painting them is not really a feminist act in the sense that it is furthering the cause of feminism. It may be a feminist act in the literal sense that a feminist is doing it. But painting your nails is conforming to the patriarchal definition of femininity. (I don't really know where it started, but my guess is women weren't just born with this natural urge to have pink nails.) BUT. BUT. NO. Don't yell at me and tell me that you are not brainwashed just because you paint your nails. I KNOW THIS. I paint my nails too. (Sometimes. I have really long hard nails and therefore I use them as tools to open things and stuff so they chip really fast and it's annoying. But I paint my toenails a lot.) So yeah. I have a problem when people say that everything a woman does is a feminist act just because she's a woman so obviously she believes in her own equality so if she wants to get breast implants THEY'RE FEMINIST BREAST IMPLANTS BECAUSE NO MAN PHYSICALLY MADE HER DO IT. Uhhh...riiiiiiight. Because in no way are we taught from birth that breasts are purely sex toys for men. That's not something we grew up hearing AT ALL. That's why breastfeeding in public is not an issue at all! Because we haven't overly sexualized breasts! They're totally neutral vessels of baby food! And risking your life to make them bigger and likely also completely ineffective as vessels of baby food has NOTHING TO DO WITH MEN OR SEXISM AT ALL. (Sidenote: I am not saying that all women need to use their breasts as vessels of baby food and that if you don't procreate and breastfeed you fail as a woman. I am also not saying that all women who have breast implants are brainwashed by the patriarchy. I just got a bit carried away with my sarcasm. However, we live in a patriarchal society. And you can't just decide you're outside that and have that be the end of it.)


See? Ryan gets it.

However, I'm not convinced that is the message of "I'm Feminist Enough..." (Although it is the message of A LOT of things which is why I wanted to talk about it. For another totally awesome post on this subject by Meghan Murphy, look here. I totally quoted it in an essay I wrote. It's fun using blog posts as sources in essays. You get to swear and use caps lock a lot.) I want to look at "I'm Feminist Enough..." from another angle, an angle that a like I lot more. I think these videos promote the idea that a woman can be a feminist without having to make her every move a radical one so long as she is aware that many of her actions are not radical or even feminist. And the videos promote the idea that feminists do not have to feel guilty every time they do something slightly "unfeminist," like paint their nails. And sometimes, the "unfeminist" thing to do is the logical one. And sometimes even though it seems "unfeminist," it actually kind of isn't. One woman in the videos said that she's feminist enough to be the chef in her heterosexual relationship because she's the good cook and she's not going to eat her fiance's shitty food to prove a point. She's feminist enough to understand that feminists ARE PEOPLE. (WHOA! What a novel concept!) Feminism is not reversing gender roles. Feminism is not giving up things that make you happy. And feminism cannot be achieved by an individual. Because we're all going to mess up. Not one of us individually can be the perfect feminist. I fuck up. A lot. I like to use the word "bitch." I try not to do it in public too often. But it's fun to say! And no, it's not feminist when I do it. I am not reinventing the meaning of the word "bitch" when I use it as an insult. And sometimes I assume that most straight men think with their penises and that I can get what I want if I dress a certain way or behave a certain way. And that the men won't mind. That's really not feminist. That's manipulative and cruel.

But together, maybe feminists can get more done. We live in a culture that praises people for being individuals, for accomplishing things alone, but can't we get more done together? One of the women in the videos said that she's feminist enough not to judge other women. So if women (and men and everyone else) stop judging one another for their individual little fuck ups and instead focus on collectively working towards a goal (and also focus on LISTENING to one another WITHOUT GETTING DEFENSIVE when we kindly remind each other that maybe calling someone a pussy isn't exactly a feminist action...), maybe feminism still has a shot.

If I was making a video for "I'm Feminist Enough..." I would say, "I'm feminist enough to know that not every move I make is radical or even feminist. And I'm okay with my fuck ups. Because I'm human. But I'm also feminist enough to keep trying to fuck up less."

What would you say? As Shannon Washington said, "There is no right or wrong, just truth." If you want to get involved with the actual movement, and not just my discussion of it, you can find contact info on the "I'm Feminist Enough..." website.