Internalized Misogyny

Talking to Amy and analyzing the interesting and multivarious personalities in the fam, and I remembered a thought experiment that my 1977 women’s studies class introduced me to—“how would you be different if you were the opposite sex?”—an interesting question (but not what I’m doing right here, although I think I might be a lot more like Dave). So my thoughts ran in a well-worn pattern: No non-gay (or otherwise non-traditionally gendered) man I’ve ever met has considered this question. Because male = normal human whereas female = other, yada yada [insert traditional second wave feminist rhetoric here—“second wave” meaning “straight white educated middle-class older”]. Why does that equation/non-equation resonate so closely with my experience? I thought to myself. Because when I was very young, I answered, I read omnivorously from Freud and Jung to Hemingway to Vonnegut to Dostoyevsky to Dickens to Mailer to Joyce, amazed at their insights into the human condition, and my “click” moment of consciousness raising was when I began to notice (at probably about 13 years old) the occasional statement such as: “women are not like us,” or “the female experience is diametrically opposite what has here been described”*, or the even more obvious and simple absence of women from the awareness of these great thinkers except when sex was concerned (an absence painfully and blatantly apparent after the moment of that "click").

Which was as far as I had gotten until now. Pain—so how am I human then?—and profound alienation from the Enlightenment culture and the canon and so forth that I loved, that I was steeped, soaked, and buried in, because dang, when Freud talks about defenses against anxiety, I get it, gut-deep, and when Melville talks about the whale coming up from fathoms below the boat, and even when Hemingway looks with male eyes at his lover’s pregnant belly and then out at the hills like white elephants, I get that as well, even at 13 or 14, because I am human too. It was my feminine protest—that great phrase Freud invented meaning (to him) resentment at not having a penis, but which really means envy of all the advantages and power in this culture associated with being male.

But all these years I never really took it to the next level. It felt like simply too much injustice to deal with—I wanted to point at the sexism and keep pointing until it was finally, adequately, acknowledged. Or I took these men’s unconscious subjectivity and bias too seriously, at face value, and couldn’t move beyond it.

Here is my recent 51-year-old emotional insight: In reality, these great thinkers were describing the human (inclusive) condition, under varying circumstances (and “male” was not always the most important one), and therefore their insights were/are applicable to me, because, although female, I am human too. Their sexist blind spots are regrettable, but totally and completely understandable, given the era(s) in which they lived. I don’t have to be wounded by them anymore. I’m not being betrayed. Their sexism--that is, their belief that men were human and women were "other"--is not much different than Joyce being Irish or Tolstoy Russian, and I can look at it, acknowledge it, and move on. I don’t have to believe it anymore.

That's the weird thing that I didn't know, and just barely realized. I believed it for too long.

*not that these are actual quotes, but similar ones wouldn't be hard to find

THS Acappella Choir

Beautiful Christopher in his first tux:

And a brief excerpt (Offenbach's "Neighbor's Chorus"):


Grandma and Grandpa came, and Grandma Gene. We had banana splits afterwards.

Red Red Rose (More Choir)

You can hear the high tenor (Chris' part) throughout this section, especially at the end.

John's Fall Harvest

Look what John has done this fall--peaches, tomato juice, white grape juice, purple grape juice, pear jam, and apple juice. He's used up all the quart jars and sent us scrambling for more. Now he's making applesauce and preserving it in pint jars because we have tons of pints and we only use that much applesauce at a time (this way it won't go moldy in the fridge). He says there's one more batch of tomato juice and he's done for the season.

Apple Rain!

So we went down to the Farm to pick apples and make juice. Usually that is a multi-day effort (well, they had been picking for a few days before), but this time, because of the hard frost which froze all the twigs and leaves, the apples were dropping (like apples!), and Kendrick got up in the trees and shook the fruit down onto tarps and it was much speedier than picking them all off the branches by hand. And then we made juice that same afternoon. We weren't there for the whole effort, but we got 20 gallons and John was able to pack it all into the freezer except for one batch to bottle and a gallon to drink straight.

Apple Juice!

Betsy and Ethan are ready to work at the orchard--and get busy with John picking up the fallen apples.
J.Lynn picks up the fruit that Kendrick shook out of the tree:
We're done! Grandpa carts the equipment back down the lane to the barnyard:
The Lane:
Bryce and Shane wash apples while Cindy rinses out the 5-gallon jugs:
J.Lynn, Kelly, Pesi, and Grandpa run the apple press:
Trent and Tana jug the juice. Yum!
And one gratuitous picture of Ethan.

Rainbow

I was going to write a post on health care reform, but rainbows are easier.

Dave Came to Visit

Here John and Dave eat Smores from our new fire pit (above), and Mike visits with Dave, Nicolle, and Ethan:
Roasting marshmallows:
Brett drinks coke:
Marshmallows are serious business:


Colette makes a new friend:
Backyard camping:

I really like the firepit. It is lightweight, cute, and $59 at Lowe's. But dang, we've got to finish that one little corner of the garden (or at least get the buckets full of rocks out of sight).

Grandkids are Teh Cute

Colette has a new bike (above), and Johnathan still loves elephants:
Ethan gets cuter and cuter:

Sweeties!

John Teaches Wilderness Writing

We went to a very nice meeting of the Central Utah Writers Project at Daniel's Summit southeast of Heber City. John taught a mini-version of his wilderness writing schtick, including the coyote trap (above). It was fun to see him in professional action.

Here is Strawberry Reservoir, in the distance:

Angels

...when they're sleeping, of course.

Happy Birthday John

We had another party for John. Susan and family from Billings are on their way through to see Jack graduate from Marine Corps boot camp in San Diego. Here are Chris J, the backs of Ian L, Claire, and Cary, and the huge buffet (fueled mostly by Barbara and kids bringing salads galore--also notice that John has three cakes, above):
Chris, John, and Sergene:
Johnathan gets into the cake:
Susie, Cary, Susan:
and Karma Sue:
I took pictures of everybody, but since I hate the flash, the rest were too blurry to post. Barbara and Ross were there, as well as Mike, Amber, and Connor, and Susie and all her family.

Happy Birthday Nicolle

...and John of course (same day). Rob and Nicolle had tix to The Daily Show in New York, and Nicolle called me yesterday after they got out. Fun! We've got the kids while they're gone.

UK 05 Pahty

So we ended up with a small party between the Saturday 2nd and priesthood sessions. It was great to see Corey and her husband, Rachel, Emily and Jude, and Anna. We thought there would be more, but I know Conference weekend is busy for everybody.

Harvest

First frost the other night (after 90 degree weather on Monday), so John decided it was time to bring in the grapes.
Hero liked being outdoors.
...but the guys were sort of grumpy about it (don't be fooled by John's "smile." He was grumpy).
Chris has a turkey feather in his hair. Our neighborhood turkey seems to be solitary now. It is rather sad. Last year there were two picking up the fallen crab apples and using the vegetable scrap-bucket as a buffet bar on the back deck.

October Roses

Sergene says the TV weather predicts snow tomorrow. So enjoy the roses which will never be full-blown.