The writing on the wall, er, stall

One week from today, I will teach my first class in a course designed entirely by me. The only parameters: the class must involve a research component and introduce the students to multiple genres (i.e. other than the academic essay). Most instructors choose a theme or topic around which to build their class. My topic is the Women's Movement. Here is my course description:
will explore how informed writing can affect (and has affected) social/political
WR121: The Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves

This course will explore how informed writing can effect (and has effected) social/political change in the United States, as viewed through the lens of the Women’s Movement from the 19th century to the present. This is not, however, a class for or of interest only to women – in the context of this course, women will be considered as a social group with a history of advocating for legal rights and other privileges. We will examine the various waves of feminism, looking at why some movements were successful (the passage of the 19th amendment, granting suffrage) while others were not (the never-passed Equal Rights Amendment), as well as what the label of “feminist” means today. Political cartoons, op-eds, speeches, biographies, and blogs will be among the genres we study, and the course will culminate in a fieldwork-based group project where students will design an advocacy campaign for a local women’s organization. No prior knowledge of the Women’s Movement or feminism is required.


Now, when I came up with this, I was under the impression that this year, as it had been in previous years, the freshmen would be able to read the various section descriptions and select a topic that interested them. I was also assuming I'd have a class of mostly women, like last semester (ratio of women to men was 13:1). However, neither of these assumptions is true. For the first time, freshmen advisers slotted students randomly into sections regardless of their majors/interests and according to my class list, I will have 6 men and 9 women in my class.

Upon learning these things, I initially freaked out and considered going with a different topic. Oh God, I thought, what if I get a bunch of kids who think Hillary Clinton is a feminazi? Or think women should remain barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?

But I'm sticking to my guns, folks. My boss supports me, though acknowledges that making my course palatable and accessible to a variety of 18-year-old viewpoints will be, to say the least, a challenge. But as one friend reminded me, making freshmen write about something outside their comfort zone is not a terrible objective. My junior year in college, I took a Women's Studies course to fulfill a requirement and I was way more into it than I thought I would be. Do I have a secret agenda to make all my students militant feminists? No. But do I think it's important for college students, regardless of gender, to learn about the victories and defeats of one of the most significant, complex and (arguably) ongoing American social movements? Absolutely.

And while I'm not superstitious, something happened to me yesterday that I'm interpreting as a sign that I made the right choice. I found something tucked away in a book from college -- a transcription of graffiti from a ladies room bathroom stall of the (no longer existent) Cross Campus Library at Yale. I stared at this graffiti conversation and watched it evolve over several semesters before finally deciding to write it down. And yesterday, I found the scrap of notebook paper. The graffiti "debate" was as follows and try to imagine lots of different handwriting, Sharpie colors etc:

When do I turn into a woman?

What is a woman?

Never

When you kiss a frog

When you sway your hips

When you decide or discover you are one

When you have a child <----that's ridiculous, not all women can have children

or want to

It's when you love yourself

When you can look back & want to move forward


I found this so compelling then and reading it again now, am still struck by it, especially the last comment, the one that silenced the other scrawlers: When you can look back & want to move forward. Isn't that why we study the history of anything?

Anatomy is destiny

I consider myself to be a fairly progressive, forward-thinking woman. A feminist, even, loaded and complex as that label has become. I have read "The Second Sex" and "The Feminine Mystique." When I worked for Glenn Horowitz Bookseller in New York, I handled a lot of amazing feminist-related documents, like Susan B. Anthony letters, suffrage posters, and early birth control literature by Margaret Sanger. Fascinating stuff.


But I'm just going to come out and say it-- feminism is complicated. It's got more waves than Kirk Cameron's hair circa 1985. And sometimes I like getting different treatment because I'm a girl. Like the other day, when I got a cup of coffee at a gas station and tried to pay, only to have the guy at the register wink and say, "For you, free." I'm guessing this doesn't happen as often for dudes.

I guess this technically makes me a supporter of cultural feminism, which "emphasizes the difference between women and men but considers that difference to be psychological, and to be culturally constructed rather than biologically innate." In other words, I like to celebrate my femininity and in some social situations, I don't want to have to act like a man or expect to be treated like one.

When it comes to having doors opened for me, I certainly don't expect it -- but when it happens, I can't say I'm not charmed by the gesture. I always sincerely offer to pay for my half of a date, no matter if it's date #1 or date #307. But if a man insists on treating me...well, I'm not really in a financial position to turn down a free meal.

Do I think it's fair to be paid less than a man for doing the same job? Of course not. But I'm not thrilled about the prospect of being, say, drafted into the military, which liberal feminists would see as fair in an equal society.

Anyway, not sure why this is on my mind lately...."feminism" is a term thrown around a lot, and while few women I know would object being called feminists, it's a word that means different things to different people and should be used judiciously.

Millionaire Matchmaker: A Cultural Low Point

I don't watch television that often lately, mainly because my TV got damaged in the truck when I moved from NYC to Boston and the picture is crappy. But this has turned out to be a blessing in disguise, since unsurprisingly watching the boob tube numbs the creative juices I need to write.

Occasionally, however, I give in to temptation and watch some out-of-focus Rock of Love (the girls actually look more appealing NOT in HD clarity). And then the other day, I accidentally stumbled upon Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo.


Watching this show made me feel icky inside for a number of reasons. And yet, like a 5-car pile-up on the freeway, I found it hard to turn away and subsequently ended up watching 3 episodes in a row. And then felt like I needed a scalding hot shower.

First of all, I find the matchmaker, Patti Stanger, to be fascinatingly devoid of charm. She's abrasive and rude and her opinions about courtship and male-female roles in relationships would make any self-respecting feminist's jaw drop. This woman needs to be bitch-slapped by Gloria Steinem stat. She's also weirdly insecure and especially catty when dealing with female clients, i.e. successful women who've made millions actually DOING something constructive with their lives.

The men on the show are, for the most part, grotesque. On a recent episode, the world was introduced to Jimmy D'Ambrosio, an egomaniacal club owner from Chicago who always refers to himself in the 3rd person as "Jimmy D." Alex Edelstein is a big fan of blingy cufflinks and Sammy Hagar-style hair:

Money is the only thing these guys have going for them. So it's stomach-churning to then watch scores of women at Patti's "mixers" throw themselves at them. Each episode follows the millionaires on dates, which usually go poorly due to the blatant superficiality of both parties. The men feel entitled to only date hot women and choose usually based on looks, and the women unapologetically are only there because of the guy's money (and feel entitled to only date rich men because they are beautiful).

It's all very depressing. You would think millionaires would want to find someone not interested in them just for their money, but the men who seek out Patti's services are so lacking in social skills and charisma that their millions are their only selling point. They literally have nothing beyond the promise of a comfortable lifestyle to offer. And the women have become so jaded that they've decided to settle for rich, boorish and unattractive.

Patti claims to have a "99% success rate," but I'd like to see how she tabulated that. She doesn't help people find love -- she helps shallow men and women find trophy wives and sugar daddies, respectively.

Personally? I'd take Bret Michaels over these dudes in a heartbeat, hair extensions and all. At least he seems to have a sense of humor about himself and a refreshing awareness of his show's absurdity.

Say what you want about Fox....

but it has provided us with some amazing cultural gems. As a news network, obviously, it is a complete joke, but from an entertainment perspective it's hard to deny their uniquely lowbrow contributions.

Take the Fox Reality Network, for example: an entire cable station that just plays reality television, 24-7. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't like watching reruns of "When Animals Attack" after a few dozen beers. A network that shows you this has got some balls:

But my favorite program on Fox, which according to my DVR might no longer be recording new episodes (sniffle) is "Battle of the Bods," a show where you can actually feel the Woman's Movement receding as you watch. The premise? Five scantily clad women parade around a stage and a panel of men in a soundproof room rate their bodies. The girls try to guess the men's rankings in a few different categories, such as "Face" and "Breasts." If they guess right, they win a small amount of money. But first, they cattily argue over who has the best ass and the straighter teeth. On national television. What would Gertrude Stein say?

The host, Olivia Lee, is like a D-grade version Cat Deeley of Fox's "So You Think You Can Dance." They are both tall, blond, and have over-the-top Brit accents.

Cat Deeley



















Olivia Lee



Is Olivia's dress from Forever 21? It wouldn't surprise me, given that "Battle of the Bods" appears to have a production budget of about $.48.










Seriously, the set looks like a sleazy hotel lobby:


Yes, in that photo you are actually seeing adult women in the 21st century comparing ass-cheek cellulite. I have to agree with Slate's Troy Patterson that the show is "innovatively vile." I can't begin to imagine what would motivate anyone to go on this show. It's like negative minutes of fame. Still, perhaps out of my incomprehension over how such a show exists, I have watched many an episode, slack-jawed.

On the other hand, "So You Think You Can Dance" is a great piece of reality television. I love its vaguely Eastern-European vibe -- there's something distinctly foreign about the show's aesthetic.

And who wouldn't want to be drunk at a wedding with Nigel and Mia Michaels? Nigel would be the sleazy uncle who makes inappropriate comments about how nicely the bride has developed, and Mia would wear a crazy miniature hat and hoard passed appetizers in her purse.

Personally, I'd like Fox to develop a show hosted by these two:















Rainbows would melt.









The best part about being on a reality show, though, has to be the exit montage. It must be so great to watch a video chronicling how awesome you are. I wish at the end of every week, Ryan Seacrest and Cat Deeley would show up in my bedroom and say, "Well, Katie, it's the end of the week for you, but let's a take a last look at some of your best moments."

A song by Chris Daughtry would play and highlights from my week would flash across a spontaneously-materialized gigantic plasma screen: me getting coffee from my local guy in Greenpoint, arguing with a cab driver when I try to pay with a credit card, looking winsome as I play my next Scrabulous move on Facebook.

So in conclusion, I'm glad that Fox exists, despite the misinformation they spread about Iraq Hussein Osama. As long as you've seen "Outfoxed" (and if you haven't, Netflix it now), you can feel fine about watching the upcoming "Real Stories of the Highway Patrol" marathon (check your local listings for exact times).