So I was sitting at the kitchen table just now, nursing my hangover, and reading the Toronto Star and the Globe and Mail. Newspapers are a kind of security blanket for me; I'm definitely going to miss them when I move out. I don't always read them; I just like to know they're there if I want to read them. Anyway, to the point, here's the Star article, and here's the Globe one, and I'm going to blather about my thoughts. It's probably going to be incoherent and long.
Last night we went to a pretty divey bar, we being me and two coworkers. I've never hung out with anyone from TJ's outside of work, so it was new all around. Anyway, the last time I'd been to this particular divey bar I was nineteen, and some skeezy men in their forties tried to teach me and my friends to play pool. It was hip hop night or something yesterday. I hate to racially stereotype, but I find that black guys tend to show their interest by staring intensely. Whatever works for you, I guess, but I find it pretty discomfiting. Pretty often they don't even smile at you if you look right at them. It objectifies me--yes, I dressed up a certain way to be looked at, but admiration and a naked sexual desire are two different reactions.
There's a quotation from Michelle Landsberg in the sidebar to the Star article about girls today thinking that sexual power is empowerment. I think it's about control; women have the illusion of control over their sexuality, but it's a scary world out there. There's so much sexual violence, and still that double standard about sluts and players.... What is empowerment, anyway? I feel empowered when I feel attractive, but maybe I'm just responding to society's demand that women BE attractive objects, and am feeling fulfilled because I've succeeded.
My current job does not really put a premium on book smarts; the career I'm hoping for doesn't either. It's unlikely that I'll ever feel empowered by respect for my brains. It's not that I MIND being admired for my looks--I had enough of an ugly duckling phase to make compliments a minefield of insecurity and booming ego highs, but I do enjoy attention--I just wonder about the implications. And my discomfort with a penetrating male gaze speaks to a basic unwillingness to be so... cheapened.
Which sort of brings me around to the second article (which, incidentally, reminds me of that Family Guy episode when Brian's off somewhere, and Lois gets all weepy because his favourite commercial is on). Intellectually, I know that sex, and a vagina in particular, is not dirty and unnatural, but I feel the effects of the media and ribald jokes that tell me different. It's lead to a weird disconnect about sex in my mind, which is only exacerbated by the sexual power stuff perpetuated by Cosmopolitan and similar garbage that tells me I should want and flaunt. So, dirty and slutty and wrong? Or sexy and powerful and natural? And if it's the latter, how do I make that stick in my head enough to be able to ignore all the other shit that comes my way?
I had stilettos and red lipstick on last night. If I'd been sexually assaulted, there's a teeny part of my brain that would whisper that it was at least partially my fault. Just because I know better than that doesn't mean it wouldn't be there. Is it empowering that I can go to a skeezy bar and get drunk, or would it be more empowering to not make myself an object like that? Rape is about violence and power. Cosmo runs articles about boosting your man's ego. Don't emasculate him. It's biological. Knights in shining armour.
In my fiercer moments, I'm fine with the male ego taking a hit when I assert my independence. In my weaker moments, I fear the backlash. I'd like to find a balance between fearless and cautious.
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