Friday, February 27, 2009

Act like a lady - think like a man...

Today I thought I could handle a little 'light news' so I went to MSN Canada to see what the headlines were for today. I wish I didn't. The headline 'What drives men to do the things they do?' jumped out at me. Against my better judgement, I clicked on the link.

Comedian Steve Harvey is hocking his new book "Act Like a Lady - Think Like a Man" which is a sort-of psuedo self-help book for women to finally 'get' men, although to what end still remains unclear to me. Perhaps Mr. Harvey is hoping to ride out wave of last weeks blockbuster movie 'He's Just Not That Into You' - apparently if you made it through that film without cringing or gagging, you must have been high. I did not see it due to receiving several phonecalls and facebooks from well meaning friends guarding my piece of mind. A tribute to bold intelligent women it apparently was not...

So what drives men to do what they do? According to Harvey it has been quaintly reduced to three oh-so-simple ideologies: men are driven by who they are (Harvey gives job title as an example; CFO and CEO are repeatedly mentioned), what they do (more references to job title), and how much he makes (are you starting to see a pattern here?). Apparently, these three simple things make up the entire mindset of any and every man and if ladies even have a hope of understanding the men around them, they must find ways to relate to them using these three criteria.

Harvey states: "Think about it: from the moment a boy is born, the first thing everyone around him starts doing is telling him what he must do to be a real man. He is taught to be tough -- to wrestle, climb, get up without crying, not let anyone push him around. He is taught to work hard -- to do chores around the house, get the groceries out of the car, take out the trash, shovel the snow, cut the grass, and, as soon as he's old enough, get a job. He is taught to protect -- to watch out for his mother and his younger siblings, to watch over the house and the family's property. And he is especially encouraged to uphold his family name -- make something of himself so that when he walks in a room, everybody is clear about who he is, what he does, and how much he makes. Each of these things is taught in preparation for one thing: manhood.
The pursuit of manhood doesn't change once a boy is grown. In fact, it's only magnified. His focus has always been on, and will remain on, who he is, what he does, and how much he makes until he feels like he's achieved his mission. And until a man does these things, women only fit into the cracks of his life. He's not thinking about settling down, having children, or building a home with anyone until he's got all three of those things in sync. I'm not saying that he has had to have made it, but at least he has to be on track to making it."

I guess I will start with a question to all of the men out there: "Aren't you tired of all of this shit?" Being a student of feminism, I am intimately aware of the number that is done on females from the minute they are born to teach them their purpose in life, which is to catch a man and have his (preferably male) babies, but thanks to Pierre Bourdieu and other great theorists, I am starting to get a glimpse of what society does to men. What is amazing to me is that the masculine order seems to dispense with its own justification. No one questions these 'maxims' - they just are. If you want to be a man you better have the phallus - not just in your pants, but in your pocketbook, and on your business card. What pressure to grow up under.

One thing Bourdieu states is that masculinity works because it is always under threat. This is why some men feel the need to beat gay men for doing nothing but being gay. It is for this reason they are not allowed to cry - crying is associated with women. And what is even worse, is that any act that men commit in the name of 'manliness' does not get credited to the man doing the act - it gets credited to masculinity in general. If a man defends himself in a fight as opposed to running, he is 'manning up.' Yet it is okay, and even encouraged, that women flee physical conflict. And if men think they get to control their 'manliness' - they are living in a fool's paradise. So many things can happen that take manliness away from a man. If he gets cheated on by his wife, he is a cuckhold. If he gets laid off from his job (something Harvey says was devastating for him), he is a failure to his family name. Any deviance from absolute heterosexuality makes him a fag - not just for that moment, but for all time. Men don't even get to think about it.

I guess what I am trying to ask here is: "Is it fair that men are judged this way?" Is cash and title the measuring stick that makes a man 'a man?' It is almost as horrible as being judged by your waist size or cup size. How am I to raise sons to participate in this system? In regards to 'acting like a lady' and 'thinking like a man' - who says I want to do either? Should men try more to think like women? And how, precisely, do women think?

Such tiny boxes we have to fit in. And the lines get straighter every year. When I couldn't stomach any more of Mr. Harvey's formulaic bullshit, I clicked to the next headline: "8 steps to a flatter firmer you"

What a relief - I was starting to forget how to 'think like a lady'...

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Life is short.

The title of this blog, albeit slightly depressing, is actually a song by Butterfly Boucher that I found myself humming at odd moments today. It took a minute to place it, and I wondered why it was on the brain. There has been a whirlwind of activity in my life lately, with Rob being in China and my visit to Seattle. I also got into the English program (with funding!) - a major goal that took some doing to accomplish. I remember looking at the requirements for a masters in English and thinking 'Jesus, I don't want to cut people open or fly planes or anything - I just want to talk about books...' Now, a year later, I have met some of the most amazing women - some really learned and humble women - and I feel that I have still have so much to learn. But, at least, finally, I can now start. This is a relief because I was thinking that I was never going to get to start my new life. And yes, I do realize how ridiculous it sounds to hear a thirty-five year old woman say this... I am one of those people that constantly is looking to the future - constantly waiting. Like Willy Loman, I am only happy if there is something to look forward to. Which is, as far a personality issues go, not a bad flaw. It is the mother of all my ambition and it chases away the laziness that keeps most people paralyzed. At its worst, however, it makes the present seem like something to be endured, something to grit your teeth and get through, rather than something to be savoured. I find it difficult to stop and feel things - to pause and breathe.

I have been trying to get better about this. My sister told me that every night she prays Maslow's hierchy of needs - "thank you God for giving me enough to eat," "thank you God for allowing me to live in a country free of persecution," "thank you God for my family" - she says that it reminds her about all that she has and makes her worries seem trivial in the face of such a list of fortune. I have tried it, and it works.

But this week, the thing that stopped me and forced me to pause and recollect all that I have to be grateful for was the death of a young friend of Ryley and Lincoln's. She lost her battle with bone cancer on Sunday after enduring endless chemo-therapy, surgeries, and finally the amputation of her leg.

Jessica was beautiful. She was radiant in the way that young girls at that age often are - pink cheeks, a high blond pony tail, corn-flower blue eyes, a charming smile. I remember the last time I saw her before she got sick. We were at the soccer centre and she had just been given a letter of acceptance to play for the Raiders. Club soccer -and she made it on the first day of try-outs. Jessica had one hell of a kick and was a fierce player.

It was the look on her face that sticks in my memory - she was positively beeming. It called to mind how I felt getting my acceptance letter from U of A. They congratulated me on 'my extraordinary academic achievement.' For the whole day, and admittedly several days after, I kept saying to my family 'who has extraordinary academic achievement? Me. I do!' (I even woke Rob up in the middle of the night to remind him in case he forgot) I am not sure what Jessica's letter said exactly, but I do know that she was proud of herself. I am glad that she got to feel like that.

The night Jessica died, I cried a lot. I cried selfishly for the loss of my brother and my father remembering how horrifying sickness and death truly is. I cried for her mother, imagining the wildness of her grief. I thought about a telethon that I briefly tuned into some time way-back-when for the Stollery Children's Fund, or some-such organization, during which a local news celebrity was interviewing a little boy dying of leukemia. He asked him if he thought that God heard his prayers. He replied: "God hears everyone's prayers...just sometimes he says no."

It is the moments he says no that knock the wind out of us. They force us to pause, to re-evaluate. Sometimes, they keep us locked in place for a long time. Grief can seem like it has no end. But then there are those moments where we get everything we hoped for and more - moments where we can be proud of ourselves and happy to be where we are.

This is how I will remember Jessica. Happy and enjoying a moment where God said yes.