Recently in Guilty Pleasures Category
Stringer Bell is confused. "Whaddaya mean The Wire's not feminist?"
The Wire, the HBO series that ran for five seasons, will apparently live on, despite its shelf life, in a class at Harvard. And Professor William Wilson, the self-admitted "huge fan" who will be teaching the class, is high off of The Wire's Kool-Aid:
"I do not hesitate to say that it has done more to enhance our understanding of the challenges of urban life and the problems of urban inequality, more than any other media event or scholarly publication," Wilson told the audience before poking fun at himself, "including studies by social scientists."
As a racial justice advocate who loves politics and sexually diverse representations of people of color, one can't help but be a sucka for The Wire. (Also, I am not going to lie. I might have dedicated a Facebook status, or ten, to good-God-what-have-you-done-to-me Idris Elba.) But when you fasten your feminist goggles and take another gander, you are bound to get bamboozled, psyched out and sucka-punched by yet another attempt to be progressive -- hold the feminism.
Elizabeth Ault, a bad-ass feminist at the University of Minnesota, begins to sum up The Wire's gender problem in the title of her paper: "You Can Help Yourself, But Don't Take Too Much": African-American Motherhood on The Wire. At one point she states,
The Wire is quite capable of creating sympathy for the struggles of men... shows us characters like alcoholic police officer Jimmy McNulty, strategizing drug kingpin/real estate developer Stringer Bell, and corrupt (okay, maybe just stupid) cop Thomas Hauk, and doesn't dictate how we interpret their storylines; rather, much of the show is full of precisely the sort of representational ambiguity that obviates calls for "more positive representations" and earns the "authentic" plaudit--except, again, when it comes to black mothers, women without the social or cultural capital of those men.
Then she goes for the jugular:
The institutions that The Wire is so devoted to condemning have failed these women too. In order to make its damning assessment of urban politics within its own institutional context of Time/Warner-owned HBO, The Wire must make some compromises. In this case, black mothers' sexualities, their subjectivities, their desires, and therefore their fitness as parents is the price the show, like so many before it, is willing to pay.
Her paper has not been published yet. But it's chock full of good stuff about the director's decision to opt-out of "woman of color feminism" and her analysis of the director's reinvestment in "heteropatriarchal family." I don't know what Wilson has planned on the syllabus, but he needs to give our girl Liz a call. Because the urban inequality problem he rails on about is gendered.
As a lot of you already know, I'm getting married (this Saturday, eek). And I'm not going to lie, while there was definitely a lot of feminist-minded thought behind my planning process, there was also a lot of...well, other stuff. I succumbed to buying wedding magazines despite their gross consumerism, bought a pair of nearly-unwearable - though fabulous looking - shoes, and decided to have flower girls even though I didn't want a wedding party simply because I think my cousins' kids are adorable. It doesn't surprise me that I bought into some wedding culture stuff - after all, some of it is fun - but it was wedding blogs that did me in. Truly.
I've always been a bit of a dork over design, and wedding blogs were just the thing to bring my love of things aesthetically pleasing together with my control freak planning side. Whether it's "wedding porn" (yes, people call it that) shots of brides and table settings or DIY madness, I wanted it all. My Google Reader nearly collapsed under the weight of my bridal RSSness.
And though there's no doubt that some of the blogs I've been frequenting buy into the wedding industrial complex in a way that makes me massively uncomfortable (Martha Stewart Weddings, I'm looking at you!), I also found some sites along the way that we're amazingly helpful not just from a planning point-of-view, but from a feminist one as well. Like A Practical Wedding, Offbeat Bride, and IndieBride (no blog, but the forum is great) - these sites helped me keep my sanity with their sage advice and senses of humor.
When the wedding is over and my planning all finished, there's no doubt that I'll have to leave some of these blogs behind - after all, how many wedding cake shots can one look at? But there are a few that I'll keep reading, because the women who run them are funny and smart and remind me why I love the internet. Also, because I like pretty pictures.
Another guilty pleasure - wedding flowers! The picture above is a sample centerpiece from my dope florist, Sarah of Saipua - who incidentally has a really great and hilarious blog herself. Pretty, no?
Others have written before about their (un)feminist guilty pleasure of watching television shows like American Idol and America's Got Talent, and the problematic practices these shows often have behind the scenes. Despite the obvious cheesiness, as well as the more problematic and unfeminist aspects of these shows, there's something about them that keeps me tuning in. I don't know if it's the dramatic story-line videos that make me feel like I am actually getting to know the contestants and identifying with their struggle, or just the reminder that there are other people out there who are pursuing their dreams without letting the threat of criticism or rejection prevent them from doing so. Or maybe it's watching people sweat through songs and the undeserved power I feel in being able to judge from the safety of my own home a skill I don't have or plan on getting anytime soon...ever. ;-)
Anyway, I'm invariably less than satisfied by the feminist values, but usually I suck it up and take from the experience what guilty-but-oh-so-sweet pleasure I can. Until now. This just cannot fly.
As I move into my third week of Professor Foxying, I realize I've been doing some pretty heavy, relationship-type stuff. Since lord knows sex is not all about relationships, I'm going to do a couple of pure sex questions. And FYI - I always change the names. Hope you enjoy!
Professor Foxy,
I feel sort of silly asking this. I have heard so often how the woman on top position, in male/female sex is often the best way for the woman to reach orgasm through intercourse. I just can't seem to get the hang of it. Do I move up and down? Rock? I feel like I can't relax into it up there because I'm working so hard. It also feels a bit uncomfortable when I sit all the way up or lean back. I'm not sure if I'm doing something wrong, or if it's just not for me.
Thanks so much!
-Girl usually on bottom
Hello Girl -
There is no one best position. Some women like on top, some like on bottom, and most will never orgasm with penetration alone. For the overwhelming majority of women, it is all about clitoral stimulation. There is also not one best way to move. A third will move this way, a third that, and a third another way all together. What I can say is this, climb on top, close your eyes, touch your clitoris and try moving in different ways. Try not to focus on how you are moving, but really how it feels. Penetration is like fudge on ice cream, it makes ice cream taste better, but rarely works alone.
Dear Professor Foxy,
Though I've never been tempted to write for sex advice before, I trust feministing enough to try!
I'm in college, and have a relatively new boyfriend. He's great, and we're very open about things with each other, but he doesn't have very much experience in the bedroom. In fact, I'm not sure he knows where all the lady parts are. He's willing to learn, but I'm not sure how to go about "teaching" subjects like sex or oral sex. Perhaps you could offer some advice?
Thanks!
Gertrude
Hi Gertrude -
I really like both your teaching instinct and your desire to improve your sex life. Make it a game and phrase it about you. "Baby, I want to learn how to please you more. Can you show me how you like to be touched, stroked, sucked?" Get naked and touch yourself in front of each other. Then try it in with each other. The other part is to use positive encouragement: "I love it when you. . ..." "Honey, yes that is it." Just plain moaning. This makes it easier to then say "a little faster" "A little to the left"
Dear Dr. Foxy,
I am a married, heterosexual woman. I really love receiving anal sex - we've done it only a few times, but I loved it each time and fantasize about it all the time. What prevents me from asking for it more often is the fear that frequent anal sex can "stretch out" the anal sphincter, leading to incontinence or other health problems. Is that just a silly (and possibly homophobic) urban legend? Or is that a real risk? And if it is a risk, if there anything that can be done to prevent it? I avoid putting sex toys in my anus too often for the same reason.
Thanks,
Anonymous
Hey Anonymous -
I searched for some good studies on this issue and could not find any. So I did the next best thing, I went to happy hour with a few of my favorite gay boy bottoms (often used for shorthand for the receptive partner when men have sex with other men). And after several martinis, we agreed that this is just a silly, definitely homophobic urban legend.
No really, anal penetration is fine for you or him. There are some steps you should definitely take to keep it safe. Water-based lube is a necessity. Both on the outside of your anus and on the implement or penis. I also suggest your husband use a condom, even if you don't use condoms for vaginal penetration. Three words: feces in urethra. I would also do post anal sex clean up with a moist towelette (Tucks is a good idea) versus rougher toilet paper. If you are using fingers, either use latex gloves or make sure fingernails are clean and short. A good test is to run the nails across your palm.
During my searching, I also found this great advice from Duke University. It is great for novices and experts alike.
If you start to worry about anal incontinence or general tightness/control, try anal Kegels.
My coworker Veronica had this cartoon from Married to the Sea shared on her google reader and it reminded me about my obsession with Craigslist's Missed Connections.
Maybe it's the secret romantic in me, or just my super-nosy side, but I love having a sneak peek into other people's lives and lusts. If you aren't familiar with Missed Connections, it's where people can leave posts for someone they might not even know, but who caught their eye. For example, if you see a really cute girl on the metro on your way to work, but can't get up the courage to talk to her? Post a missed connection, describing yourself and her, and tell her through the anonymity of the internet what you really think. Maybe if you're lucky she'll respond and you can live happily ever after.
And then there is always the secret hope of finding a missed connection post about you! It's kind of like the modern day love note.
My gay boyfriend Merv and I, caught on the scene (well more like at my apartment) probably after getting our thizzle dance on.
Now this is really really bad. It is so bad that I can't even believe I am admitting it. And not just because of the rampant misogyny in rap music videos (which is over the top, grotesque and unapologetic), but because I am considered a hip-hop head that should stick to the *real* shit mayne! There is just something about certain mainstream pop-like rap tracks that get under my skin and stuck in my head and before I know it I am head bopping with the best of them and sometimes even wearing my hat to the side with some electro-glasses on.
Mind you most of what I am listening to isn't even hip-hop, there might be some rapping but it is basically R&B and it has a groove that I can't resist. For example I love this Lil Wayne track with Lloyd, it just gets me up and singing. And it isn't just the super mainstream stuff, I like whatever young people are listening to all over the country. I just left the Bay and although it has seen its heyday, boy can I get down with some hyphy music, like E-40 or Mac Dre.
I have written about negotiating my feminism with my love for hip-hop, so this is something I have given a lot of thought to. And frankly, sometimes I can handle it, but most of the time I am thinking, was that really necessary? And there are moments that are so over the top (like Nelly's Tip Drill track) which is just too much for me and I am grossly offended and ready to boycott the artist.
Does this music have sexist attitudes in it? It sure can and a lot of times yes. But it is also what my friends and my community listen to and not all of it is horridly offensive. Some of it is just cute. I actually got into commercial rap by hanging out with lesbians (well that and working in public schools for 5 years). I am not going to make a case for some type of reverse signification where we are reclaiming the music. We aren't, we are human and we like good beats with cheesy bass lines and corny lyrics and relate to the universal themes of sexual attraction, love and heart break.
I have no idea how I will continue to reconcile my love for mainstream commercial hip-hop since I am aware of its nefarious corporate packaging, mistreatment of members and a form of music that people of my generation (from the golden years of hip-hop) consider to be responsible for ruining hip-hop as we know it. However, I will make the argument that I don't think rap/hip-hop is any more sexist than other male dominated forms of music. So maybe your guilty pleasure is cock rock and mine is faux mainstream gangsta' rap. Either way, if you see me dancing somewhere and you are like, "omg is that Samhita from FEMINISTING" just know I recognize the potential contradiction, but also, like everyone else like to have a good time, dance with my friends and have taken myself to the task of mastering the balancing act of hip-hop love and feminist self-preservation.
Most of the time when we write about photographing people on the street, we're talking about dudes who are cat-callers and harassers. But part of my daily internet consumption -- in between the New York Times and feminist blogs and everything I read for my job -- is a healthy dose of street fashion blogs. From Monterey to Minneapolis, Tokyo to Helsinki, many major cities (and some smaller towns) have a dedicated street photographer who sets out every day to document the local style. (Perhaps the most well-known street-fashion blog is the Sartorialist -- not my personal fave, but a classic. For an overview of lots of cities, check out Street Peeper.)
I like that these are fashion photographs featuring people who are not bone-thin, Photoshopped, or posed like marionettes. For someone like me with a weakness for fashion, street-style blogs seem like a lesser evil to the glossy fashion magazines, which always intersperse articles about clothes with articles trying to convince me that five almonds and an espresso is the breakfast of emaciated champions. While every street-fashion photographer is an editor -- in that s/he chooses which people to snap on the street -- I like to think that it's a bit more unmediated than Vogue's fashion spreads, which only highlight clothes from the latest absurdly expensive designer collections.
I know this is a bad (un)feminist guilty pleasure. And I don't even have a good excuse, like Miriam did in talking about reggaeton and feeling some kind of cultural affinity to it. But ever since I discovered spanx (recommended by another feminist blogger actually) I have been addicted to them. What are they? Basically, a girdle, a "power panty" if you will, something that holds in all in so you can put those super ultra tight unforgiving dresses on.
Alright, full confession. I think I am sexy with or without spanx. But feeling sexy everyday is sometimes difficult. I have things to do, like go to work, blog, eat, hang out with my friends, etc. What I don't have time to do is obsess over how I like in this or that which I do my best not to do as a feminist, but it is hard when you are constantly inundated by images of thinness, whiteness and richness. And frankly, if you saw me on the regular you wouldn't think I give it that much thought, I dress pretty casually. But when Friday night rolls around and I want to go out on the town, sometimes I like to look extra fancy and sometimes it feels better to wear something that holds it all in. It just gives me that ounce more confidence. So I go from "damn I look good" to "DAMN, I look HELLA good."
According to this post on Gawker, I should stfu and go to the gym. But you know what? I go to the gym. Mainly for stress reduction, but I go and it doesn't make me look like a super model. It just makes me look like me. Which is fine. But I don't appreciate the insinuation that I am cheating or eating too much and as a result I need spanx. What I am doing is functioning in a world that hates fat people so much that young girls don't eat and even a woman as strong as me, sometimes doesn't feel like she looks super. It is normal and I don't hate myself for it, one bit!
So yeah, I wear spanx. They are simple, they are comfortable and they avoid giving me that thigh chafe us thick legged gals get when our thighs rub against each other all night long. I understand why it is not perfect that a strong, beautiful woman such as myself has days when I don't feel fully fab about my body, but shit I am human.
It's back folks! This series which I kicked off a few months back with the Millionaire Matchmaker edition. As a refresher:
In this series we're going to share a few of our own (un)feminist guilty pleasures. It's those pop culture things that you love, even though deep down inside you know that they might conflict with your feminist values. Maybe it's a show that makes your Women's Studies 101 alarm go off, but you just can't stop tuning in every week. Maybe it's a celeb gossip blog, or an immature movie marketed to teen boys, or high-fashion magazines where all the models look half dead. Maybe you're just human, and humans are complex occasionally hypocritical beings. Maybe you have created your own unique definition of what it means to be feminist that includes all of these guilty pleasures (and much more).We at Feministing believe there are ways to maintain a critical eye towards these (un)feminist things while still enjoying them. It can even be fun! We think you believe this too and we are psyched to see what guilty pleasures you have to add to the mix.
So on that note, to today's edition, which is reggaeton. Now maybe it's because I'm Cuban, but nothing gets me dancing faster than some good old reggaeton. We're talking Daddy Yankee, Don Omar, Wisin y Yandel, Aventura. I love most of it, but especially the songs with a great dance beat. Unfortunately, a lot of my favorite reggaeton tunes have horribly sexist and offensive lyrics. You name it, it's there. Talk about brutal sex, the objectification of women, machismo at its worse. None of this is unique to reggaeton, and a lot of it comes from the roots of reggaeton, which is a fusion of Jamaican music like reggae and dancehall with Latin American music like bomba, plena, salsa, merengue as well as US hip hop and R&B. (Go here for a great explanation of what reggaeton is, and its history).
That's why reggaeton is my (un)feminist guilty pleasure. I can't stop listening to it, because I enjoy it too much (I even have a pandora station that I'm listening to right now!). Occasionally I just pretend that I don't understand spanish so I can ignore the lyrics, but its tough. What do we do with art forms like music that might use these kinds of sexist troupes? Boycotting the artists does little to remedy the underlying issues of sexism and misogyny that lead to these lyrics. Luckily, there is an alternative for reggaeton lovers who can't handle the misogyny anymore: Ivy Queen, a female reggaetonera has been gaining popularity. Now, being a woman does not guarantee that her music won't include any of the same sexist ideas, but from what I've listened to, it's a big improvement.
What music is your (un)feminist guilty pleasure?
To kick off this brand-new series, I'm going to start with the guilty pleasure that spurred it all, the Millionaire Matchmaker. Now we could probably dedicate a whole post just to Bravo and the gamut of shows they have which fall into this category, but for now I'm going to focus on this one.
I love it. I've watched every episode, including maybe some re-runs. The show is reality style, focusing on Patti Stranger, the matchmaker herself (she comes from a long line of matchmakers). She specializes in taking really rich men and helping them find hot sexy women--to marry. While almost everything about her service (and the show) is based on sexist and debasing stereotypes about women, she makes it pretty clear that this is not an escort service. She even has some endearing things to say about the matchmaking profession, and how if she could do this for free around the world, she would. By the end of the season I started to almost believe her.
Her manhandling of the men on the show also appeals, as she tries to whip them into the shape she thinks they need to snag a woman. And some of these guys are weird.
In the end it definitely makes my feminist alarm bells ring at high volume, especially when I found the link to the service's site. Talk about leggy blonds. But it's fun to be outraged by Patti and her crazy techniques, to poke fun at the awkward bachelors and at this same time hope that someone might find love.
Stay tuned for more (Un)Feminist Guilty Pleasures from the Feministing crew!
Introducing a new Feministing series: (Un)Feminist Guilty Pleasures!
In this series we're going to share a few of our own (un)feminist guilty pleasures. It's those pop culture things that you love, even though deep down inside you know that they might conflict with your feminist values. Maybe it's a show that makes your Women's Studies 101 alarm go off, but you just can't stop tuning in every week. Maybe it's a celeb gossip blog, or an immature movie marketed to teen boys, or high-fashion magazines where all the models look half dead. Maybe you're just human, and humans are complex occasionally hypocritical beings. Maybe you have created your own unique definition of what it means to be feminist that includes all of these guilty pleasures (and much more).
We at Feministing believe there are ways to maintain a critical eye towards these (un)feminist things while still enjoying them. It can even be fun! We think you believe this too and we are psyched to see what guilty pleasures you have to add to the mix. Stay tuned for my first contribution to the series (and the inspiration for it altogether).
