You're Taking it Personally: The Godwin's Law of Sexism

A guest post by Jenn Gorham

I work at the Fredericton Sexual Assault Crisis Centre (FSACC). I love my job, but one of the weird by-products of working at FSACC is the awkwardness of telling people where I work. It manifests in different ways, but one of the most challenging for me is when the discussion of what I do turns into a debate on sexism or sexual violence. Typically something is being discussed that I comment on, my comment then makes someone uncomfortable, we have a back and forth, and then my position is dismissed because, “you are taking this too personally, you are being sensitive because of where you work.” End of discussion. The Godwin’s Law of sexism.

I understand what has happened. My contribution to the discussion has made the person uncomfortable. And when we are uncomfortable, we can react defensively. Often people confuse pointing out a sexist comment (song, movie, comedy etc) with an accusation of being sexist. Jay Smooth at Ill Doctrine had a great vlog similar to this around racism.

For example perhaps I have criticized Eminem for being misogynist. The other person points to the song he performed with Rihanna (trigger warning!). We debate the merits of whether this song/video was actually empowering to women in domestic abuse situations. I point out that this seems hypocritical coming from the man who not only wrote but still performs the song Kim (lyrics here - HUGE trigger warning). Because the person is a fan of Eminem they see my criticism as an attack on them personally and at some point, the person feels the need to point out my sensitivity due to where I work.

Still, I am always floored by this statement. I am on the phone with someone who has survived childhood sexual abuse and is struggling to get through their day. I am sitting across from your teenage daughter who is telling me her boyfriend is pressuring her to text him a nude picture and she is crying. I work every day with people who have been impacted by sexual violence. Don’t you want me to take that personally? Don’t you want me to be upset by this and say, “This is wrong! And we are going to do something about this? We are going to try to stop this from happening to others!” Don’t you want that? I do. If my sons went to someone because they were in pain, looking for support, I want that person to take it personally and be caring and empathetic.

I also want that person to know what they are talking about. The volunteers at FSACC go through an intensive screening process that includes two interviews, a reference check and 60 hours of training. 60 hours. They cannot miss one session or they do not make it. I coordinate and run this training. In New Brunswick no public service group requires this level of training around the issue of sexual violence – not doctors, nurses, Fredericton police, RCMP, guidance counselors, social workers, or addictions counselors. No one. In fact it was such a gap in services that FSACC was asked to create a training program for these groups. My co-worker Jenn R. and I then developed and deliver Sexual Assault Crisis Intervention Training (SACIT), a 40 hour training course which we have delivered province-wide to police, nurses, counselors, and social workers.

All of this training and education is based on volumes of academic research spanning a spectrum of the human and social sciences to neurobiology. It is meticulously researched, updated and monitored by committees of experts on a consistent basis in order to ensure that it is ethical and includes the most current research and best practices.

I am really good at my job. Really good at it. So yes, I do take it personally, and I also know what I am talking about.

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The above was a status update on Facebook, posted here with Jenn's permission. To learn more about the Fredericton Sexual Assault Crisis Centre (including how to get involved as a volunteer or donor), please contact them.

Parenting and the Holidays

A guest post by Mary Wilson

The gift-giving holiday season can be terrifying, especially for a feminist mother of two girls. There are so many opportunities for family to unknowingly offend my feminist sensibilities with pouty-lipped dolls or a toy purse... Last year they got a set of toys that were plastic pink cleaning supplies. And they loved it, so I couldn't say a damned thing.

My husband and I celebrate Christmas. We both identify as agnostic and were raised with Christian traditions. We do not attend church and do not plan on raising our kids with any particular religious traditions. We're not spiritual people.

Basically, we're in it for the presents. And the family time. And the booze. 

We were fortunate enough to be able to host my family this year. This means that we will not be seeing my in laws until the new year. That means that they made up for their absence with some pretty big gifts.

I have learned that it is better for everyone involved if I curb my feminist gift requests when my in-laws are concerned. It makes everyone much happier. I've also learned that my girls are growing up in a world with rigidly defined gender roles. It seems that no matter how hard I rail against it, my kids are still subject to these definitions. My youngest is in to pink princess dresses and my oldest is in to playing Mommy. They both love princess things and dancing. I have accepted all of these as useful skills that will help them grow as human beings. I try not to dwell on the gendered overtones and I try to supplement these activities with traditionally male activities (read: toy cars, playing ball).

The most I can do is expose them to as many women and girls in non-traditional roles as possible and hope they are able to form a well rounded concept of gender roles that aren't too rigidly defined. Most of the women in their lives are not too bogged down by gender roles. 

We escaped this holiday season without any sexualized baby dolls and their favorite gifts are their race track with a loop, Lego, and a set of plastic cupcakes. My oldest has a birthday coming up and has asked for a purple princess cake. I will try to balance that out with a less gendered gift.

I am terrified that my kids will grow up buying into rigid gender roles. I have no idea what to do if they are "girly" but I also don't want to stifle any part of them. There is such a fine line between guiding them and pushing them. I know I will cross it repeatedly as a mother and there are times when they will need that push but I try my best to be conscious of it. That way when I cross it it will be deliberate and I'll be prepared for the backlash from my strong-willed children.

Feminist parenting seems to be about picking my battles, both with society and with my children. I won't always come or unscathed but it is important to try to know which battles will be worth the wounds. Usually ill-conceived gifts from generous but clueless relatives are not worth it. Fake a grateful smile and bury those gifts at the bottom of the toy box.

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Mary Wilson is a mom, wife, geek, and crafter, but not necessarily in that order. She is raising two preschool aged girls in small-town Nova Scotia with the help of a husband and a greyhound. She has an undergrad degree in philosophy and women's studies and currently works for an e-commerce site making how-to videos for YouTube. She has no idea how any of the above happened but has decided to roll with it.

So it Begins

A guest post by Mary Wilson

I feel a little foolish writing parenting posts. There is no shortage of parenting advice online. One of the biggest genres of blog is the mommy blog. This is our village, and we're raising children in the only community we know.

In that vein, all parenting advice is bullshit and never applies to all kids or all parents. I have bought and read 5 parenting books and regularly read parenting blogs in the almost 5 years since I became pregnant with my first child and though I have learned useful bits from each of them, none had "all" the answers. No one had all the answers, and anyone who claims otherwise knows fuck all about parenting.

So, here I am, ignoring my own misgivings and writing about parenting. Please, take anything and everything I say about parenting, motherhood, and childcare with a substantial grain of salt. I have no experience with early childhood education, child psychology, or any other academic study of the development of children. I speak from my own experiences as a young, white, middle class, able-bodied, cisgender mother of two equally able-bodied white children. I will do my best to check my privilege at every opportunity and please point it out when my privilege is showing. There are experiences that every parent shares and I want to provide my take. Writing about parenting is more to help me put my experience into perspective than it is for me to tell you how you will experience parenting.

So, on to the parenting. I’ll start at the beginning because I have a well practiced rant about pregnancy and a woman’s body. This does not necessarily go under “parenting” because experiencing pregnancy does not automatically make you a parent, and being a parent does not mean you experienced pregnancy. It’s just a convenient starting point.

I loved being pregnant. I loved feeling the little being inside me moving and growing. I didn't love the aches, the pain, the heartburn. I knew going into both pregnancies that there is a physical toll to be paid for undergoing that much physical change in such a short time. That said, there wasn't much that I truly hated about being pregnant.

I only really hated one thing.

I hated being treated like an incubator. I hated that not only did I have to share my body with this potential person, the obvious physical signs of pregnancy meant that I was sharing my body with the world. Intellectually I knew I would be giving up some autonomy to the potential person sharing my body but I was not emotionally prepared to have that autonomy taken by my family or anyone else for that matter.

Being pregnant and the resulting barrage of “you can’t/shouldn’t do that!” reminded me that few people trust women to make their own decisions about their bodies. Pregnant women are constantly told “Don’t” by people totally uninvested in their health or well-being. While pregnant the only opinions that matter are the same opinions a pregnant woman would take into account while not pregnant. Health decisions (including diet and physical capabilities) should be made between a woman and her doctor or midwife, and even the doctor or midwife should be challenged if she or he recommends something that the pregnant woman doesn’t think will help.

Pregnancy is a confusing time with so many physical and emotional changes it really helps to trust your instincts, trust how you feel and listen to your body. If a woman doesn’t know how she feels or what her body is saying to, that’s ok. Everyone is allowed to feel shitty, elated, or confused, especially when being blasted with puberty-level hormones.

If you are pregnant, or intend to become pregnant there are many things you need to consider but the second most important thing (after “am I ready/do I want to be a mother”) is “Am I ready to share my body even more than I already do?”

***

Mary Wilson is a mom, wife, geek, and crafter, but not necessarily in that order. She is raising two preschool aged girls in small-town Nova Scotia with the help of a husband and a greyhound. She has an undergrad degree in philosophy and women's studies and currently works for an e-commerce site making how-to videos for YouTube. She has no idea how any of the above happened but has decided to roll with it.

His Right to Choose

A guest post by Jessica Prominski

“Abortion”—the context and meaning of this word has been in the media, legislation, and public discourse. Nations and states have discussed, decided on, and revised abortion legislation for decades. And yet, the discussion never seems to end.

First, I am a self-identified heterosexual woman and I identify as feminist. I am pro-choice. This has an impact on the way I view pro/anti-choice legislation and abortion. However, while my feminism is about choice, it’s also about inclusion and addressing limitations of supporting rigid gender roles and gender expression.

I was reminded of the consequences of supporting and teaching rigid gender roles when I was talking to a previous sexual partner about abortion. We were not having sex (defined here as penetrative intercourse) but I am fascinated with people’s responses to abortion and discussions around choice. My partner previously identified to me that he is pro-choice. When I asked him what he would think or do if I got pregnant, I was surprised at his answer. My previous partners indicated they would not only support but would actually prefer me getting an abortion should pregnancy become a reality for us.  However, he indicated that he sees pregnancy and parenthood as a crucial responsibility and does not agree with using abortion as a form of birth control. He said he would do everything he could to encourage me to complete the pregnancy and deliver the baby. When I asked how we could ever afford to take care of a baby, and co-parent a child (we have not been together very long) he said I didn’t have to be involved in the child’s life if I didn’t want to but he would be responsible for his mistake and take care of the child to the best of his abilities.

I suggested the idea of adoption as a solution to my hypothetical pregnancy. He said he would not be okay with adoption and would be responsible for the child he created, even if it’s not the ideal time in his life for parenthood.

I told him that while I would talk to him about it and consider his perspective, the choice to complete or terminate a pregnancy was mine, because the child would be inside of my body. I told him that there is no way I could complete a pregnancy and deliver a child and then say “see ya never” and leave him to parent alone so that’s why I would prefer abortion at this time in my life. He said if I got an abortion, he would never speak to me again. I was shocked … I’ve never had this response before and didn’t know what to say.

For a few weeks, I thought about this conversation and wasn’t sure what I’d do if we did have sex and I got pregnant (maybe this is still why we haven’t had sex). But all of this thinking brought me to thinking about the rigidity of gender roles. I have been noticing limitations for gender expression and roles for women but have not considered how rigid and difficult expectations of gender expression are for men. But men feel pressure too—to be a gentlemanly but unemotional, aggressive, logical, responsible provider and sexual being.

Masculinity is defined extremely rigidly in much of the global community. I believe young men have been taught that they are decision-makers that have power and should make all decisions, even if it is outside of their rights or they do not have the knowledge to do so.  We hear so much in the media about men who are dead-beat dads and men who don’t pay child support, and how bad and devastating single-mother-led-families can be on children. This becomes ingrained in our thoughts and behaviours. And this is where I think my partner was during our discussion about abortion. Most men are simultaneously taught that they are biologically determined to be sexual and unemotional, safe sex isn’t important, and that they should avoid being dead-beat dads, which is completely illogical given how each of these demands overlap. They are supposed to want sex often, whether it is inside of a committed relationship or not, that they should be hard-working, unemotional, dominant in relationships, and that they should at the same time, be responsible fathers if pregnancy becomes a reality. Men receive mixed, confusing, contradictory messages about masculinity similar to those that women receive about femininity, and neither can seem to win.

If men support abortion, they will be perceived as supporting murder and ignoring their “responsibilities.” If they support adoption, they are taking the easy way out and will be called pussies and powerless. If they support a pregnancy and are a responsible father, they are expected to be: (1) a good provider and hard-worker, yet also spend enough time with children to make sure they don’t have the “devastating” impacts of a single-parent-led-family, (2) unemotional but supportive, and (3) dominant leader of the household without controlling every single decision of their children. Expectations for men and definitions of masculinity, especially in terms of parenting and having children, are impossible to fulfill which is why perhaps so many men identify as pro-choice but then if a pregnancy became a reality in their relationships, they struggle to find a solution supported by society and other men and a situation in which they feel comfortable supporting while still feeling “masculine enough.”

Some of the hesitation around having sex might have been because we were not together long or perhaps because we weren’t “officially together”, just seeing each other. However, some of it might rely on the fact that we would had some conflict in approaching an unplanned pregnancy. In fact, if we did have sex and I did happen to get pregnant, given his response, I don’t know if I would even tell my partner about my decision to have an abortion.

And I know that’s not necessarily fair and not a situation I would like to be involved in, so I’m struggling a little bit. It might just be the way things have gone, but our decision not to have sex is mutual, and I think our conflict about abortion is a contributing factor. Which is hard. We have an intense physical chemistry and I would like to have those intimate moments together. Maybe this is something that will change over time or as we grow more comfortable with each other we would be able to have a different discussion. 

Ultimately, this partner and I stopped seeing each other but remain close. 

***
Jessica Prominski is currently a Master of Arts student in Equity Studies and plans to begin her Masters in Social Work in the next two years. She is a case manager at a women's shelter in Hamilton and does diversity education for Hamilton Health Sciences. Jessica is also a Board of Directors member for a shelter in Mississauga, Media Coordinator for Slutwalk Hamilton and is doing policy work on violence against women through Rainbow Health Ontario.

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Cross-posted at The Good Men Project

All of My Eggs in One Basket

A guest post by Tricia Morris.


Recently I went to a talk at the University of New Brunswick (Fredericton) about reproductive justice. A couple of humans from the law school spoke, along with a clinic escort, and a few other notable feministing folks from around Fredericton. In many ways, the talk was amazing. It is always inspiring to be around so many people who respect people’s bodies and the choices they make about them. I learned some interesting things about laws that regulate abortion here in New Brunswick, and I chatted with a few people who I want to be my new friends. Great.

There were parts of the event, though, that left me feeling so frustrated. A lot of the discussion seemed to center around autonomy, and the idea that if “it’s my body, it’s my choice.” I know it’s a bit unusual to find this frustrating. All of the humans who sat behind me offered appreciative “mmmmmmmhm” noises after someone spoke about autonomy and choice. As a “pro-choice” human I’m supposed to talk about how it’s my body and thus my choice, but I just don’t want that to be my only option anymore. Bear with me! Here’s my thinking:

During a presentation, one of the presenters spoke about how sophisticated the Right is getting in their recent discussions of abortion. The Right is, time and time again, coming up with arguments and laws that significantly threaten people’s ability to make reproductive choices in New Brunswick. And people who were on the fence about abortion are being convinced by these laws and arguments. The Right is using pro-women and pro-family rhetoric to denounce abortion, and they’re being sneaky about it (see, for example, this gem). They’re co-opting activists’ language, and they’re using pro-lady lingo to advance super gross right-wing agendas. The Right is gaining even more ground, and the world is getting even scarier here on the East Coast of Canada. . . It was, needless to say, a great presentation. At the end of their presentation, the presenter offered a thought that stuck with me: those of us who support abortion need to step it up. The Right is getting even more sophisticated with their arguments, and as pro-choice folks we need to follow suit.

I could not agree more. I need more than the arguments I’ve got right now. So many of the arguments I hear in support of a human’s right to choose abortion end up like this: “It’s my body. I’ll do what I want with it!” Yes. Sure. But in many ways this argument also frustrates the hell out of me. I know that is not a popular thing to put out there—that you’re frustrated by current arguments about autonomy. But I am. I have a problem with them, in part, because I think they get heard in much the same ways as a child’s answer to an argument is heard (e.g. “It’s my truck! I don’t have to share it!”). The arguments aren’t working for me very well any more. People already know how to tell me how wrong I am—why sharing is good, and how I should be using my truck, and where the truck comes from. It’s not that I don’t think autonomy is an important thing to talk about. I definitely do. It’s just not enough for me anymore to say that autonomy is synonymous with the tagline “my body, my choice.” If the only defense I have against people who want me to carry a fetus to term against my will is that it’s my choice, then I am so afraid that I’m going to lose the argument. The Right is getting more sophisticated, and I’ve got so much to lose and the only argument I’ve got at my disposal is an argument that the Right already knows how to dispute. That is so scary.

The Right already knows how to dispute the argument, in part, because they played such a big role in creating it. Individual choice is the cornerstone of a neoliberal/capitalist market—the individual makes rational choices and takes personal responsibility for their actions. If abortion is positioned as a rational choice that humans make about their bodies, the Right has a ready-made opposition. We live in a world where we consistently call some humans (notably cis women, but other humans too) “overly emotional,” “crazy,” “untrustworhy,” “irrational,” and a whole host of other things that invalidate our abilities to make rational choices. Only straight, white males make rational choices. So when the only argument I have for abortion is that it is “my body, my choice” we have a problem: the Right already knows how to tells us that overly emotional and irrational people can’t make reasonable choices.

Here’s the other part: I don’t even think I believe the arguments about autonomy anymore. I know I’m supposed to say “It’s my body!” . . . but I don’t even believe myself as I’m saying it anymore. Maybe it’s because every single day I get cues that tell me that my body isn’t mine, and I’ve internalized it in such a bad way that I don’t believe in bodily autonomy anymore. Maybe my body belongs, just a little bit, to the guy who grabbed my butt this morning or to the woman who judged me with her eyes when I ordered a cheeseburger or the human from 40 Days for “Life” who told me not to be an abortion. And that’s about patriarchy, and I want to fight it all with arguments about autonomy. I do! But when I think about autonomy as being equal to individual choice, it just isn’t a productive conceptualization of autonomy for me. What does it mean when we argue for autonomy? What does that look like? I don't think these are questions we talk about enough.

In so many ways, I rely on others. I rely on community, and family, and a whole host of other human bodies in order to “be myself.” Arguments that I should control my body ignore that, in so many ways, this body isn’t out there on its own making choices. It is constituted through my interactions with other bodies. It relies on other bodies. “Being me” requires so many other people to make that possible. I understand that there is a certain level of danger in positioning abortion as a ‘community’ issue, or as an issue that is not about individual women’s bodies. I understand that there are risks to talking about bodies without recourse to the autonomy argument. But this argument is, itself, so fucking dangerous. Not only is it an argument the Right knows how to combat, but it is also one that isolates me and individualizes the problem of my unwanted fetus. In community, together, can’t we think of new ways of talking about abortion that don’t leave me isolated and making an individual choice in a scary world that calls me irrational? I just can’t put all of my eggs in that one basket.

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Tricia Morris is a feminist and fiction lover who lives in Fredericton, New Brunswick. She is starting a nursing program at the University of New Brunswick in January, which she hopes will lead to more amazing conversations about abortion, friendships with seniors, and subversive knowledge about the healthcare system that will help humans get what they need.
Heh? Heh.