Dirty Little Secret

There are a lot of phrases that can piss me off.

“Name calling is no big deal.” (Nah, it’s just a form of bullying and we all know that’s not a problem today.)

“Sarah Palin says. . . .” (She’s IGNORANT. And a hypocrite who actually does get state support and health care for a kid and a grandkid.)

“She was asking for it.” (Unless she said, “Will you have sex with me?” she wasn’t asking for it.)

“Teaching kids about birth control will make them have sex.” (Well, a lot of them already are having sex, so why not let them be safe? And do you really think the ones who have chosen not to for moral reasons are going to jump right into it because they can do it without getting pregnant or AIDS?)

“Well, the Bible tells us that homosexuality is wrong.” (It also says lying, drunkenness  and premarital sex are equally wrong – care to condemn those with the same brush?)

And today’s personal favorite, “I’m not a feminist, but . . .”

Usually the “but” is followed by some feminist tenet like equal pay for equal work or praise for a gutsy woman like Kathryn Bigelow. It makes me want to scream. Unless you are one of those uber-Christians who take the Bible literally in EVERY aspect (not just the aspects you like) Quiverfull people or a Taliban member, you have no reason not to call yourself a feminist.

A feminist is a person who supports feminism, which Merriam-Webster defines as:

1 : the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes
2 : organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests

— fem·i·nist
\-nist\ noun or adjective

— fem·i·nis·tic
\ˌfe-mə-ˈnis-tik\ adjective

What part of that scares people? It doesn’t say you have to hate men, be pro-choice, be a lesbian, work outside the home, skip make-up, hate sex or whatever other stereotypes are  out there. You just have to believe that women are equal to men – that your daughters deserve the same educational opportunities as your sons, that your boss can’t grab your ass and laugh about it, that your vote counts just as much as anyone else’s, that you should earn the same pay for doing the same job and that you are equal partners in your relationship.

Is there anyone reading my blog who doesn’t believe that?

Well, then, welcome feminists! Who wants a margarita?

(Notice my language restraint? Because you never know when Lovebug could start reading)

Kim is not my friend or relative. Kim is Kim Gandy, the president of the National Organization of Women. I joined NOW in college. That’s right, I don’t just call myself a card-carrying feminist, I actually am one. Or, at least I used to be. Apparently my views are starting to differ from mainstream feminism.

Kim Gandy is all over CNN, claiming that Obama’s Cabinet picks don’t include enough women. For the record, there are five – the same number as Clinton and Bush’s first cabinets. Sure, I’d love it if the Cabinet matched the population with a nice 50-50 split, but the world would have to change a lot before I’d go on CNN to complain about it.

In a world where rape victims are blamed and then stoned to death (even Fox covered it), where a quarter of women in the US are victims of domestic violence at some point in their lifetimes and where Viagra is more likely to be covered by insurance than birth control pills we have more important things to complain about on national television.

I suppose it’s possible that she did complain about those things and (typically) this is the only complaint that the media embraced. But even if that’s what happened, I still want her to shut up. Shouldn’t the president of NOW be more media savvy than I am?

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a feminist. I remember my first political act in the name of feminism, though. I was in first grade.

Since this was back in the dark ages, we actually had free play time in my first grade classroom (yet we still managed to learn to read, write, spell, add and subtract. . .amazing). Every day the boys played with the blocks. Every day the girls created puppet shows or drew pictures. Until one day, when  I we thought that the blocks looked awfully fun. So we went to the block area. And the boys told us that we couldn’t play. Completely offended, I marched over to the decrepit substitute teacher. Who told me that girls didn’t need to play with blocks.

I don’t remember what I actually said to her, but I remember my initial feeling of disbelief. She must not have understood me. I patiently explained to her that we girls WANTED to play with the blocks and that the boys wouldn’t let us. She not so patiently replied that blocks were for boys and that I should go do another puppet show. Realizing that I would have no help from the authorities, I decided on a different tactic: Violence.

Dragging the braver girls with me, I marched over to the block area and began kicking down buildings. The boys were stunned. And then angry. Flushed with the thrill of power, I didn’t care that every boy in my class was ready to hit me. I told them that I would keep knocking down their buildings until they let me play with the blocks too. Being nice, smart little boys they took me at my word. Blocks were for everyone then on.

Thirty years later, I still believe I am a feminist. I still believe everyone should get to play with the blocks. And yet I judge Sarah Palin. Not simply because I see most of her political views as abhorrent (no abortion for rape and incest victims? no sex ed? letting the business model take care of health care when they’ve done such a stunning job with mortgages?), but because I don’t think much of her mothering skills.

It’s not because her children – for the most part – are quite young. It’s not because her infant has Down’s Syndrome. I’m sure she has lots of wonderful nannies and older siblings to take care of the little ones. While I personally can’t imagine being away from my kids that much, that’s her business. What I can’t stomach is her decision to thrust herself onto the national scene while her seventeen year old daughter is pregnant. Either she’s so naive that she really believes the press will leave the poor girl alone (I guess she missed how cruel they were to Chelsea Clinton during her awkward years- not that it seems to have hurt the pretty Stanford and Oxford graduate) or she doesn’t care.

And even if the press does leave Bristol alone, she’s still going to have to go through the whole thing without her mother. I taught an awful lot of children of teen moms and all the ones who were happy and had great kids also had very involved parents. And there’s no way you can tell me that Sarah – or her husband – is going to have a lot of time for Bristol right now. And if she wins, she’s not exactly going to be able to help with babysitting. Hell, she probably won’t even have much time and energy for emotional support. And while all new mothers need lots of emotional support, I think young ones need more.

As I watched Palin talk about how Bristol and Levi were going to take on all of these adult responsibilities, I couldn’t help but think of how cold she sounded. Very “you decided to go against our beliefs by having sex, suffer the consequences, you’re an adult now and I’m done.” And I think that’s shitty – especially since this possibly could have been avoided if she’d been taught about birth control. But anyway, I think this is a lousy time to drag your family into the national spotlight.

And while as a feminist I feel like I shouldn’t care about Palin’s family, and that I should cheer that even nightmarishly reactionary women are breaking glass ceilings, I just can’t.

I haven’t gotten very political on this blog. And trust me, it’s not because I’m not a political person. I honestly can’t tell you why this made me change my ways and give up my general separation of blog and political state.

It’s about Hillary. And feminism. And stuff.

Look, I don’t care if you hate Hillary for her political views or her odd marriage. I don’t care if you make jokes about her personality or her political decisions. But if you’re making jokes about Hillary really being a man? Or giggling while someone shouts, “Iron my shirt!” Then you’re an asshole. Because would you joke about Obama “really being white”? Or would you laugh if someone shouted, “Plow my field!” during one of his speeches? Maybe you would. And if that’s true, then go have fun in your cave. But if what I said about Obama REALLY offended you, why doesn’t it offend you when Hillary gets the same treatment?

Possibly because you’re like the woman who commented on The Soccer Mom Vote who claimed that feminism had ruined her life. I wondered how. Was it the right to vote? Own property? Get paid the same wages for equal work? Not being sexually harassed at work? Having maternity leave? Having rape victims not being treated like sluts? I was really dying to know how feminism had ruined this woman’s life.

I am so tired of hearing about “whiny” feminists. Did you know our maternity leave policies are on a par with Lesotho’s? That only 16% of our elected representatives are women? That date rape still happens?

What’s your take? Do you call yourself a feminist? Or do you think I’m being hysterical?

(all stats taken from this week’s Newsweek)