Feminizz

Watching all this presidential race blather between Hillary and Obama really reminds me that we women still have a long way to go, baby. For all his changechangechange and hopehopehope talk, Obama really isn't very nice to Hillary, as a woman. I refer to that seminal moment during the debate where he and Edwards ganged up on Hillary, and he tossed her a bone as he condescendingly said, "You're likable enough."

As a woman myself, I am sensitive to that kind of condescending talk. I know the sting of trying to play rough with the boys and the boys showing no mercy. But somehow, there is something fundamentally flawed in that 'no mercy' approach that equates a kind of strength and rightness and victory with might and power used, well, mercilessly. It applies in sports, it applies in wars and in the predator/prey world of nature, but really, is that the kind of world we want to be building here? Isn't it what we should be leaving in the past, as we truly try to create a future based on hope and change and peace and love and all that hippie twaddle that still makes my heart sing?

My childhood friend Bernadette and I used to play badminton, endlessly, on summer afternoons, ponking the birdie back and forth in long volleys over her mother's clothesline. The point was to keep the volley going, not to beat each other. But we were both spirited athletes, and we made it challenging, though not impossible, to volley the birdie back. And then one day Greg came along and we invited him to play, and he did not get into the spirit of the marathon volleying, no, he slammed it here and there so that he would win points. But the fact is, he did not get the point, that we were not playing for points, and he got bored fast and we were so relieved when he left. Because it wasn't any fun playing his way.

When I was about 6 years old, I had gotten a new pair of sneakers. They were red, and I felt FAST in them. I ran up and down the side walk in front of our house in short sprints, feeling oh so fast. Finally a boy came along, he was a bit older than me, and feisty little thing that I was in my new red sneakers, I challenged him to a race. I was so fast in those red sneakers, I knew I would blow his doors off. And, yeah, he blew me away, and I got a reality check but I was not daunted.

In third grade I challenged some boys to a race on the playground at recess and I almost won that one except I had on stupid--but pretty--black patent leather shoes. They were the shoes that went with my former Easter dress, a lovely low-waisted light lavender frock with lace up the front that I happened to be wearing that day. And right at the finish line out there on the playground of the old school house with the great view of the mountains that we third graders were relegated to while the new school building was being built, right there at the finish where I had victory in my long legged stance, I slipped in those silly, but pretty, shoes and fell on my ass and lost. But the point is, except for the girly shoes, I would have won.

I think my attitude about challenging males might have formed with the man in the wheelchair. I think my tiny toddler self was quite insulted and angered by his brutal treatment of me, and when I challenged a boy, I was also challenging that tyrant in the wheelchair who came into my life one day and started bullying and bossing me. I could kick and kick at that wheelchair but never dent it, I could even land a shot on his leg and he would never feel it, but if I stupidly let myself get too close he would scoop me up in his big scary arms, and beat the crap out of me. And my mother backed him up because he was The Man. So, I was pretty much primed for feminism when it came along.

The really big deal for us girls came in 1970, when I was in 7th grade, and we were suddenly allowed to wear pants to school. After that, I never looked back and I rarely ever wore a dress again. Jeans from there on out, except for later on in high school when different colored corduroy Levis became popular. Prior to that we had been allowed to wear pants for One Special Day Only in 6th grade. That was the day we were all heading out to plant trees on the new nature trail. I was so excited! Except it rained that day, and we frail female flowers were told we had to stay in while the rough tough little boys got to go out in the rain and plant the trees. I think you can guess how angry this wild little mixed-breed Indian was that day, seething with that hot Italian blood that always got me into so much trouble with the family. Man, was I mad, fuming mad, steam out of my ears mad.

I know feminism has changed a lot since I cut my teeth on it back in the 70's. Back then we wanted to not be judged by what we looked like, and these days it seems like it is all about what we look like. We wanted to not have to wear skirts and make up and bras and shave our body hair. We wanted the focus to be on the inner person, and on allowing everyone the opportunity to participate in the activities they chose to participate in, regardless of what they had between their legs. For girls of my generation, the big breakthrough was Title IX in sports, a law that said schools had to let girls play on boys' teams if there was not a girls' team offered in that sport. It meant equality would be real, instead of a beautiful dream. In my school, it meant girls could now run cross country with the boys, and boys could compete on the gymnastics team with the girls. There were no girls gunning for the football team, or for wrestling, though currently, in my daughter's school there is a girl wrestling with the boys, and she kicks ass.

I know feminism has broadened to say if girls want to wear stupid, but pretty, shoes they can and that does not make them any less of a feminist. That if a woman wants to be a stripper and play with men in that way that does not make her any less of a feminist. What feminism is really saying is women can be who they are, whatever they are and however they dress, and still have the right to be taken seriously. To not be treated like children, or like toys. Inclusion has gotten hyper inclusive, and that is a good, if yet idealistic, thing! But back in our days, it was those shoes and those degrading, to us, professions we were trying to escape. High heels and girdles and make up and finding validation in the approval of men. It seemed so clear to me then--because we had less choice then than we do now.

My friend Bernadette joined the Navy after high school. The recruiter lured her in by telling her she could be a jet mechanic, and she was so psyched by that. Once she made it though basic training, however, she was relegated to clerical jobs, one after another. She ended up stationed in Japan and one of her duties was to sign up the men for the fire fighting course. Since she was asked so many questions about the course, she applied for permission to take the course on the grounds that she would then be able to adequately answer the questions. They let her take the course, but they would not let her be a fire fighter. They put a picture of her wielding the fire hose in the navy newspaper--did they find it somehow kinky? Knowing what I now know of men, I have to say, Probably! She sent me a copy, anyway, she was so proud she was the first woman to take the course, but she had to settle for that. She had to settle for being a short-lived novelty topic, a possible turn-on, the chick who took the fire fighting course.

Whatever feminism is anymore is all mixed up to me. I can't keep up with the changes and the permutations. But I do understand this much, and clearly--that what has not changed is the core truth that regardless of gender we should be able to do whatever it is we aspire to do. Women are still breaking through those barriers. And other people are still trying to hold them back. I have read in the press of Republican supporters of McCain publicly referring to Hillary as a "bitch", but no one has yet dared to use the n-word about Obama, in public anyway. As if to say, it is okay to be sexist, but we are too enlightened--or scared--to show our true racist colors. We are scared of the men of color but we are not scared of the women, because they are just women, silly women in silly shoes and the make up and the hair and all the rest of it they use to deny us our power. Because women are powerful, and every one of us who has a mother knows in our heart of hearts the utter beauty and terrible truth of that all-encompassing power. But you know what else? Where sexism lurks, racism isn't too far behind. Along with anti-Semitism and all the rest of the hateful 'ism' demons that are eager to destroy a peaceful world.

Or what is the phrase I read once? Yes. Cutting off someone else's head to make yourself feel taller.

Until next time, I remain, your friend, Rozenkraai