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Friday Boobs
In the early nineties Bono said “We thought we were a punk band, for about 2 seconds” (paraphrase) and I’ve hated U2 since. (Actually, I didn’t like them before that either, even though I can be TYPICAL and say Boy was a pretty good record.) I felt alienated; they were suggesting that “yeah, we liked what is important to you, we got it and everything, but we’ve moved on and look at us now. Now we’re cool.”
So it isn’t like that when I say I was a feminist for two seconds. I didn’t get it, and I still want to be one. I wish I was a feminist more than anything. I did a semester in grad school for theology because I think feminist theology is maybe second only to queer theology in terms of, you know, solving all of life’s problems. My tongue is set firmly on the bottom of my mouth here.
But my tenure as a feminist was stalled after reading Luce Irigaray and learning that cutting the umbilical cord gives a child its primary name, namely the navel, a sufficient identifier, and the addition of the proper name is superficial and more than that (from Kristeva I got that), it was probably an act of violence, a further stripping of language from women — here meant in Irigaray’s sense, not patriarchal language [langue] that is spoken, what we’re used to and what makes sense to us, but language [langage] that preserves the body (as Helene Cixous advocates for) and doesn’t make sense to us — language being a source of power and being stripped from women as a matter of process since day one, the naming after the removal of the umbilical cord replaces the umbilical cord with the phallus.
Something about this argument struck a nerve, really jived with me even though I can only peripherally understand it, and I shot out of the academic building with passion and academic vigor. I told my women friends how screwed they were and most didn’t care and some were like, “Eat a fat one, you aren’t a feminist” because when I say “women friends” I more-or-less mean girls I was cheating on and the girls I was cheating on them with — so my logos wasn’t exactly an ethos from their perspective. And anyway their feminism prioritized the practical side of things, eg. not shaving or shaving, attending stitch-and-bitch and most of all being supportive. The biggest dilemma for them is, “Can we support Condoleeza Rice?” In my opinion, this orientation is more fuel for the fire; it promotes a consumerist culture that only reiterates the phallogocentric language structure and in that way renders women voiceless. In my view, this view ensures that there can be no Condoleeza Rice.
But I think I was discouraged from all of this by the cool reception I got from women, and also by the sheer difficulty of trying to comprehend feminist intellectuals who make it a point to work outside of the patriarchal system that I am fully steeped in. I mean, it’s (awesome and) bad enough that Mary Daly doesn’t admit men into her classes at BC, but the way Kristeva crafts a sentence makes Mark C. Taylor seem easy to read. Don’t even get me started on Edith Wyschogrod (who isn’t a feminist, I guess, but [hey Josh and Chris] check her out in video here discussing Levinas — and watch the male moderator continually move her microphone, ie. allow us her voice). What I’m saying is that if women were going to diss me for exploring feminism as the most fundamental source of injustice, and this stuff is going to be so difficult to understand, then I better hang up my jockstrap, or put my jockstrap back on (not sure). I don’t blame the women in my life for this, of course. I exactly do not blame them, and I’m not trying to suggest that they are in any way wrong. All women are right all the time. I don’t say that in a dismissive, fight-ending way. I just mean, yes, tell me your story and in the narrative web I hope the woman-speaking body will become real. To me.
It’s always about me. Thanks for reading this. I know you didn’t ask for my testimony.
At any rate, I kind of don’t pay a lot of attention to feminist currents anymore.
But there is a really awesome new bloggish called Delirious Hem, chock full of poets (women poets) describing their relationship to feminism. It’s personal stuff, smart stuff, really clever at times and really aware of the problems of communicating this way, and the problems of not.
Christine Wertheim on Christine Wertheim says:
Q: What kind of work and words are mine? What kind of work and words are feminist?
A or Q?: Words that stay in process avoiding being solidified, reified, turned into stable objects? Words that allow themselves to express their rage as being’s-mothered, s-mOUthered, vO|ded, avO|ded, vO|ced? Words that don’t what to come. Words that don’t want to be put into a mOUther. Words that want to be left alone. What about them? Are they feminist?
Tags: anne boyer, delirious hem, I'm an idiot
first
first
Mary Daly! I read her book GynEColGY. Or something like that. And Dworkin’s Pornography. And what else? All sorts of other stuff. I had Valerie Solonaris’s(Sp?) SCUM Manifesto in the appendix to my US History paper junior year of high school…haha. Society for Cutting Up Men.
Then, I read Susie Bright. And Avital Ronnell. And got into Diamanda Galas’s (she used to come all the time into a restaurant where I worked on second avenue, she was the sweetest lady in the world) performances as well as Karen Finley. And Karen Phaler from Karen Black. And Kathy Acker.
I keep meaning to post about Susie Bright’s ebook on Dowrkin’s recent writing on being raped. Both are available online- meaning Dowrkin’s piece and Susie’s long booklike response you can buy from her website.
But really, now that I’m old and boring and shit and read 90 percent fiction as opposed to 10 percent theory, the only thing I can say is- if you don’t call yourself a feminist, than you should have to give up your ability to vote. (I’m being hyperbolic I think). And have birth control. And safe abortions. And go to Harvard. And so on. And have a job. I guess what I’m saying is, all the academic languagey stuff is fun if that’s your thing but really, it’s the practical things that matter to me.
That said, I also wanted to post about “The Agonized Face” by Gaitskill. Sigh. I have lots of htmlgiant goals. And too much other crap going on in my life. That could change.
Mary Daly! I read her book GynEColGY. Or something like that. And Dworkin’s Pornography. And what else? All sorts of other stuff. I had Valerie Solonaris’s(Sp?) SCUM Manifesto in the appendix to my US History paper junior year of high school…haha. Society for Cutting Up Men.
Then, I read Susie Bright. And Avital Ronnell. And got into Diamanda Galas’s (she used to come all the time into a restaurant where I worked on second avenue, she was the sweetest lady in the world) performances as well as Karen Finley. And Karen Phaler from Karen Black. And Kathy Acker.
I keep meaning to post about Susie Bright’s ebook on Dowrkin’s recent writing on being raped. Both are available online- meaning Dowrkin’s piece and Susie’s long booklike response you can buy from her website.
But really, now that I’m old and boring and shit and read 90 percent fiction as opposed to 10 percent theory, the only thing I can say is- if you don’t call yourself a feminist, than you should have to give up your ability to vote. (I’m being hyperbolic I think). And have birth control. And safe abortions. And go to Harvard. And so on. And have a job. I guess what I’m saying is, all the academic languagey stuff is fun if that’s your thing but really, it’s the practical things that matter to me.
That said, I also wanted to post about “The Agonized Face” by Gaitskill. Sigh. I have lots of htmlgiant goals. And too much other crap going on in my life. That could change.
You cannot be a Ben Oglivie fan and call yourself a feminist.
You cannot be a Ben Oglivie fan and call yourself a feminist.
baseball player?
baseball player?
indeed, the worst kind: a Milwaukee Brewer
indeed, the worst kind: a Milwaukee Brewer
Milwaukee is beautiful.
I think the academics doing the languagey stuff dictate what is practical. Like, it trickles down the ivory tower. (Cum on, that’s a pretty good one, and it just goes to show how much needs to change.)
I think the academics doing the languagey stuff dictate what is practical. Like, it trickles down the ivory tower. (Cum on, that’s a pretty good one, and it just goes to show how much needs to change.)
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‘Cum on’???
And I haven’t been to Milwaukee but Oglivie wasn’t beautiful. Neither was Pete Vuckovich.
‘Cum on’???
And I haven’t been to Milwaukee but Oglivie wasn’t beautiful. Neither was Pete Vuckovich.
Adam talks purdy.
Adam talks purdy.
I’m unaware of the social implications of the context of this sentence in regards to patriarchal language. I dumb.
I’m unaware of the social implications of the context of this sentence in regards to patriarchal language. I dumb.
I don’t agree. And I’m sure I’m wrong and I SO need to change, on a daily basis, need to, as don’t we all strive to better people…?
I think- wrongly, I am wrong- that the practical influences the higher up. Like rap influences academia now. Go the proletariat! I think I win.I had two vodkas.
I don’t agree. And I’m sure I’m wrong and I SO need to change, on a daily basis, need to, as don’t we all strive to better people…?
I think- wrongly, I am wrong- that the practical influences the higher up. Like rap influences academia now. Go the proletariat! I think I win.I had two vodkas.
God bless Wisconsin working class towns and their baseball teams. What else do they have? Laverne and Shirley? Be nice.
God bless Wisconsin working class towns and their baseball teams. What else do they have? Laverne and Shirley? Be nice.
sometimes i think i’m a lesbian in a man’s body. but that’s not quite accurate. rather, i’d like to be a guy with less hair (even my toes are hairy) with suckling-activated lactating breasts and a non-viable vagina. then i would feel normal. but preferably all human animals would be hermaphroditically endowed while still retaining the tension-inducing flavor of opposite genders, or hell, how about a trinity of genders. then three-ways would be fulfilling for each partner of the party. also it wouldn’t feel so weird to wear woman’s clothes and put on make-up as it does now. there’s nothing more anti-patriarchal and holistically unifying than a skirt. pants by their very nature are divisive and in that sense phallic. dualities are also divisive and thus phallic. we need a three-pronged dialectic that, when synthesized, culminates in a rhizomatic unity. honestly though, i thought i was going to see some boobs in this post. but if i had boobs (like i wish i did), i wonder if i would be intimidated by the objectification of other boobs whose archetypal spherehood mine own would have to live up to, or if i would just be happy to see boobs. i guess what i’m saying is (and i wouldn’t have rambled this long if this topic, or i should say one that is both parallel and tangential to it, hasn’t occupied my thoughts over the years) is that i’ll never know what the significance of being a feminism is from the standpoint of a woman living in a patriarchally dominated society, nor will i ever know the glory of living in a universe of tri-gendered hermaphrodites, which (i am speaking from the heart here) makes me sad. but you really lost me at the beginning with the whole umbilical/navel discussion, if only at the level of pragmatics. would no one have a name? or would everyone be named navel?
sometimes i think i’m a lesbian in a man’s body. but that’s not quite accurate. rather, i’d like to be a guy with less hair (even my toes are hairy) with suckling-activated lactating breasts and a non-viable vagina. then i would feel normal. but preferably all human animals would be hermaphroditically endowed while still retaining the tension-inducing flavor of opposite genders, or hell, how about a trinity of genders. then three-ways would be fulfilling for each partner of the party. also it wouldn’t feel so weird to wear woman’s clothes and put on make-up as it does now. there’s nothing more anti-patriarchal and holistically unifying than a skirt. pants by their very nature are divisive and in that sense phallic. dualities are also divisive and thus phallic. we need a three-pronged dialectic that, when synthesized, culminates in a rhizomatic unity. honestly though, i thought i was going to see some boobs in this post. but if i had boobs (like i wish i did), i wonder if i would be intimidated by the objectification of other boobs whose archetypal spherehood mine own would have to live up to, or if i would just be happy to see boobs. i guess what i’m saying is (and i wouldn’t have rambled this long if this topic, or i should say one that is both parallel and tangential to it, hasn’t occupied my thoughts over the years) is that i’ll never know what the significance of being a feminism is from the standpoint of a woman living in a patriarchally dominated society, nor will i ever know the glory of living in a universe of tri-gendered hermaphrodites, which (i am speaking from the heart here) makes me sad. but you really lost me at the beginning with the whole umbilical/navel discussion, if only at the level of pragmatics. would no one have a name? or would everyone be named navel?
One must cut the cord. I’ve had two cords cut in front of my face. I hate bioligical explanations, but certain problematic societal issues are tied into biology, but not excused. How do we differ understanding from excuse? It’s tricky.
I’ll pretend I’m a tri-gendered hermaphrodite for you, Keith. Also, I thought maybe there would be boobs in this post too and I got really excited and then felt a let down, not a “let down” like when my milk would gush into my breasts (that’s called a let down too) but more like, aw, I’m not the only one who misses boobs friday! (I kept it going on -with love and gusto-way longer than anyone else..) And I was wrong.
That said, I cracked myself up thinking about being a teenager sitting around reading GYN EcoloGY by Mary Daly.
One must cut the cord. I’ve had two cords cut in front of my face. I hate bioligical explanations, but certain problematic societal issues are tied into biology, but not excused. How do we differ understanding from excuse? It’s tricky.
I’ll pretend I’m a tri-gendered hermaphrodite for you, Keith. Also, I thought maybe there would be boobs in this post too and I got really excited and then felt a let down, not a “let down” like when my milk would gush into my breasts (that’s called a let down too) but more like, aw, I’m not the only one who misses boobs friday! (I kept it going on -with love and gusto-way longer than anyone else..) And I was wrong.
That said, I cracked myself up thinking about being a teenager sitting around reading GYN EcoloGY by Mary Daly.
Hi Adam — As far as I can tell from this post, what you’re saying is that you’re not a French Feminist. Can you allow for the fact that there are many types of feminism (within and outside of the academy), some of which you subscribe to?
I’m glad you like the forum!
Hi Adam — As far as I can tell from this post, what you’re saying is that you’re not a French Feminist. Can you allow for the fact that there are many types of feminism (within and outside of the academy), some of which you subscribe to?
I’m glad you like the forum!
maybe i interpreted the navel statement too literally? or not literarily enough?
yeah pr, you were the last stronghold of boobs friday.
i’d be a tennis player for you.
maybe i interpreted the navel statement too literally? or not literarily enough?
yeah pr, you were the last stronghold of boobs friday.
i’d be a tennis player for you.
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