.too much to love. August 11, 2009

.authored by something.of.substance.

.is love blind?.

The feminist blogosphere is (rightly) up-in-arms over the mockery o f the women on the FOX spectacle “More to Love”.  There is nothing revolutionary about fat-mockery or bigger men chasing big women.  What strikes me as most fascinating about this show is how the women’s preferences are still never considered.  Like other reality “romance” shows,  it is assumed that the object of all these women’s undying affections will be the dud they’ve selected; the supposition  is women always fall in love with whomever extols the most cliché romantic notion of love or with the idea of love itself and that  they have no expectations beyond that.

Women only get their turn to select from (supposedly) eligible bachelors once they’ve been rejected on national television.  For example, every “Bachlorette” only gets a selection of eligible bachelors once sent home on a previous show (and if the public feels sorry enough for her plight).   And, while Luke, the plus-sized player on “More to Love”, does seem like a genuinely nice, three-dimensional sort of fellow, the idea that bigger women  are only attracted to bigger men is as ridiculous as assuming women are only into men for their money.

In his blog, Gender Studies professor Hugo Schwyzer comments that “for men who have not yet extricated themselves from homosocial competition, their own self-esteem and sense of intra-male status may decline in direct proportion to their girlfriend’s weight gain”. In short, the heavier the girlfriend, the worse men feel about themselves. As if women exist solely as self-esteem boosters for men or as though relationships aren’t for the mutual partnership and satisfaction of both individuals but to serve as benchmarks of a socially-limited notion of success.

.wl.: the cult of babies April 15, 2009

.authored by something.of.substance.

.virtually life-like.

And, in yet another fit of retro-inspired, socially-conservative feminist backlash, you can now reproduce online! No kidding. The past decade has already been detrimental to the equality progress of women. The third-wave sexual revolution has been used as an excuse by women to objectify themselves. Shows like “Desperate Housewives”, “He’s Just Not That Into You” and even “Sex and the City” all highlight dating and mating as the universe in which women’s lives orbit. Jokes abound in popular culture about women’s shrill-ticking biological clocks. Whole franchises are built around “catching and trapping” potential husbands with online support groups and associated materials included! Heterosexual women don’t even have a chance at glimpsing a life outside the home.

The site MakeMeBabies is designed to be used by any gender in seemingly any combination. However, the site features a young, ecstatic-looking girl and mildly repulsed guy waiting to see their future offspring. Underneath their photos is this exclamatory headline:

“MakeMeBabies‘ unique technology will show you exactly (well… almost exactly…) what your future child with another person will look like!
We take both your photos, do some magic calculations, and congratulations! You have a new baby!”

Apparently, over ten million fake children have been created and I’m sure guys aren’t lining up to know if they and the Jonas Brothers will make beautifully-blended, DNA-replicated music together.

.WL.: blame the bikini April 6, 2009

.authored by something.of.substance.

(originally posted 2/12/09 on WL)

.don't look now....

A Princeton University psychologist has just announced the results of a study concluding that men view women in bikinis as objects.

In other news, nudity makes men think of sex.

Feminists have long pointed out instances where women are objectified.  After enough time, society became a believer to the point where, today, women objectify themselves in the hopes of catching the eye of some guy.

Although the this truism has pervaded society long-enough for it to be conventional wisdom, Dr. Susan Fiske contends that men “can’t control” their objectification of scantily-clad females.

The study of 21 heterosexual men determined their level of “hostile” sexism- the belief that women have it in for men- or “benevolent” sexism- the belief that women have to fulfill certain gendered roles- through both questionnaire and brain scan.   This study showed that men who were the “hostile” sexist-type did not view bikini-clad women as having thoughts or feelings.

Additional questionnaires provided the additional information that all of the men see fully-clothed women as being in charge of their own actions while undressed and under-dressed women were viewed as needing to be “acted upon”.

Somewhere in here I’m sensing a new rape defense: “I really couldn’t help myself!  She needed me to attack her!”.

.if you can’t beat them, BFF them. April 5, 2009

.authored by something.of.substance.

And, in case you weren’t sure that feminism was all but dead, Facebook is bringing back Party Barbie with a technological vengeance.

As I logged into my Facebook.com home page today, one of the perpetually pervasive ads in the right-hand column caught my eye. Forget that the “ads” are placed there based upon key words they find anywhere in your profile or that this Big Brother approach to marketing creeps me out and let’s focus on the ad itself for a moment:

Be Barbie’s BFF

Hey, remember me? I haven’t seen you in ages! Life has been crazy lately: Fashion Week, huge parties, boy drama. Fan me and let’s chat!

Become a Fan of Barbie: All Doll’d Up

Not only does this advertisement presuppose that I have warm and fuzzy feelings of nostalgia for Barbie but that, because I’m female, I’m seriously and into fashion, parties, boys, or any combination thereof. Barbie always did have tunnel vision.

.WL.: the clothes don’t make the (wo)man April 4, 2009

.authored by something.of.substance.

(originally posted on WL 9/21/08)

This year’s Primetime Emmy Awards had five hosts, all reality television hosts and all nominated for their hosting skills. Talk about having to sing for your supper. Among the hosting hosts were Heidi Klum, former Supermodel and current face of “Project Runway”, and Tom Bergeron, the new Bob Saget of “America’s Funniest Home Videos” (a show I had no idea was still running!). The opening shot featured all five reality narrators appearing on stage together, in a row and sporting the same black suit, white button-down shirt and skinny black tie. Even Heidi Klum had a fitted version of this classic male staple.

.everyone, still clothed.

After running through a terribly unfunny dialogue, all five turned their attention to William Shatner and Heidi’s suit. Confused? I was. I’m not certain why William Shatner was worked into the opening skit, but he was called out, walked up on stage and began bickering with Tom Bergeron, the only male host remaining center stage with Heidi, about Heidi’s suit. Below is a rough paraphrase of the conversation:

William and Tom: “We thought you’d be wearing less clothes!”

Heidi: “I wanted to be one of the guys and I wanted to wear what everyone else was wearing!”

William and Tom: “But, we want you in less clothes!”

End of discussion.

Commence with William Shatner pulling on Heidi’s clothes from one side and Tom Bergeron pulling on them from the other. Amid Heidi’s prostrations, they literally ripped the suit off her body to reveal a low-cut, tight, sparkly black hot pants / sleeveless top number underneath. Just what the Emmy Awards needed: every man’s proverbially fantasy and every woman’s proverbial nightmare.

.truth in advertising?. February 8, 2009

.authored by something.of.substance.

.rock of bust.

I have known for some time that ad agencies don’t always have my best interests at heart. They tell me I’m fat, promote alcoholism, push marriage to a “perfectly compatible” match, laugh at the length of my eyelashes, and shame me into thinking I need to rid myself of all my gold jewelry for cash and clean the house more cheerfully. They tell men to enhance their erectile tissue, spontaneously regenerate hair (on their heads, only) and immediately purchase a sporty new luxury gas-guzzler. The point of advertising is to sell something to you or me, Mr. and Ms. American-Materialist-Consumer-Beast. Our job is to watch, develop a neurotic need and keep the capitalist train rolling.

Advertisers at-large have no problem telling me who they think I am…or should be. According to the commercials aired during the shows I DVR (to watch at my leisure or sometime in the middle of another insomnia-ridden night) I am most likely a single sci-fi aficionado in need of both the number to both a gay chat line and a distance-learning program (not to mention the time the next episode of Battlestar Galactica airs). I am offended by these suppositions of my character. Liking “The X-Files” doesn’t categorize me as a sci-fi superstar any more than watching trashy celeb-“reality” shows on VH1 speaks to a supposed void in my IQ. In fact, it was while gleefully taking in this anti-feminist trash that I was truly insulted.

.keep your commentary to yourself. August 11, 2008

.authored by something.of.substance.

they’re wide open

Every time the Olympics are aired- summer or winter- I doubt I’ll watch Yet, I always find myself in front of the television captivated by the nationalistic drama perpetuated by cheering for the best-of-the-best athletes in the world. This evening, I happened to catch one of the women’s beach volleyball matches. The US team consisting of Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh were taking on the Cuban team of Fernandez and Larrea (whose first names were never made evident). During the match, the commentary provided by two male sportscasters was particularly appalling. Interspersing shots of “live” volleyball action with a constantly running barrage of gossip about the American team members, the chatter turned quickly from volleyball and game specifics to gossipy asides of both US women’s love lives and future speculation that neither “almost 30″ year-old woman would compete in the next Olympics because of her perceived “sense of urgency at needing to start a family”.

As if it isn’t bad enough that the official female beach volleyball uniform of the Olympics is the rather immodest (and impractically-shifting) tiny sports bra and panties versus the male uniform of tank and shorts, these women are seen as fodder for more than lewd looks.The male-perpetuated gossip club that is sports commentary has provided in-depth and endearing vignettes on the training schedules, philosophies and beliefs of the American male athletes. The female athletes, however, all seemed to be featured in tales worthy of any day-time soap opera: stories of nude photography, broken relationships, eating habits and baby-fever portray these impressive women as neurotic, lustful and perhaps most importantly, not serious about their sport as a lifestyle.

.manifesta of a “bad girl”. August 10, 2008

.authored by something.of.substance.

I am the Bad Girl Next Door.

My hair is not a color found in nature. I have had more metal pierced through my skin than some battle cruisers. My tattoos don’t feature flowers, pixies or iconography of Jesus Christ. My wardrobe features very few trendy pieces; I have never owned a pair of leggings or hot pants. My lingerie is not color-coordinated. My make-up is not caked on to hide my natural complexion, alter my imperfect features or disguise my ethnicity. I refuse to stand in the mirror calculating how far from the Golden Ratio my facial features fall and ruminating on the types of plastic surgery that would correct their imbalance. I danced barefoot at my prom.

I don’t make polite conversation well. I have no problem disagreeing with the political ideologies of others. I make bad jokes and still think I’m funny. I can honestly say I don’t know how to flirt. I don’t care if you have money and I certainly plan to spend my own and not yours anyway. On occasion, I pay. I speak up when you use racial slurs, ethnic puns or make no-taste fat jokes. I do not laugh off any suggestion that I do any certain thing or act any certain because “I am a woman”. I am the first to answer questions in class. I do not back down when I know I’m right. I listen because I want to, not because I’m placating you to boost your ego.

.no girls allowed?. July 30, 2008

.authored by something.of.substance.

This misogyny thing that people still perpetuate is so tired. Girl-on-girl bashing is so passé. Hearing women proclaim (always with a sense of entitled pride) that they “can’t stand other females” is so boring. Snore.

We all know at least three people like who I’m talking about: girls who call every girl they meet and don’t take an immediate love to “sluts” and “whores” and “bitches”, girls who make a point out of loudly announcing how much they can’t stand “drama!” (always with an exclamation point) and girls who just plain diss and dismiss every other girl they meet.

Having spent a majority of my undergraduate years at an all-women’s institution (it’s not a “girl’s school”, folks), I would have been hard-pressed to make friends if I discounted an entire class of people based on sex. And, I do mean sex: gender seems to make the difference in this equation. Men who are transitioning or identifying as female don’t fall under the umbrella of disdain. Neither do women who are identifying as male.

Blind hatred is nothing new. Anyone remember the Holocaust? Yup, they hated people simply for being Jewish. Or homosexual. Or Bulgarian. Study the Spanish Inquisition? People were tortured and killed for the “crime” of not being Catholic. Or, hey! How about the World Trade Center bombings on 9/11? I recall that some Islamic extremist-fundamentalists flew planes into American buildings because they hated us for being American. Gee, isn’t your hatred so revolutionary and fetching?

.read.- Bitch magazine July 29, 2008

.authored by something.of.substance.

Bitch, the title of the quarterly produced journal of “Feminist Response to Pop Culture”, is, of course, a double entendre. Obviously, the bold-face exclamative title refers to the most common reference for opinionated women that this publication may or may not be attempting to reclaim. But, the word “bitch” also references the rant that a so-called Bitch has to proclaim.