Brave New World & Social Conditioning

EVERYBODY!! Let's explicitly return to social constructions for a post, shall we?

I've been reading Brave New World by Aldous Huxley for the past few days. It's not the pinnacle in difficult literature (mainly I feel like it's something I should have read in high school) but the ideas in it are good. I agree with its place in the high school literary canon and I also think it's a good piece of literature to use to view capitalist society.

Regardless, the novel has some interesting ideas about social conditioning; namely, hypnopaedia, in which the children are taught ideas about their caste and societal functions through whispered repetitions in their sleep.

Which all brings me back to a recent post on Jezebel. The post deals with Natasha Walter's notion that sexism has gotten "worse" over the last few years (since the 1980's and the rash of the power mom). The editor who wrote the post doesn't seem to take that bait, but the commenters certainly did--by agreeing with Walter. Many of them were horrified by the notion of raising a daughter in the current cultural climate. This hypothetical daughter, they argued, would have to live in a culture that sexualizes her by age 5, that demands that she is skinny, that wants her to be hairless, tan, blonde, big-boobed, etc etc etc.

My initial reaction to the Jezebel commenter reactions was: WHAT??! Do we, as women and as mothers (or future mothers), live with absolutely NO agency when it comes to raising our daughers? It seemed preposterous to me that we couldn't prevent the perpetuation of women like Heidi Montag who, if given the resources, will plastic her body to oblivion in order to fit some vague beauty ideal. So I posted as much on Jezebel. And, to some extent, I stand by that comment because YES, I do happen to think that my mother did a good job of raising me outside of some standard idea of beauty and that my college did a good job of waking me up to all the gender problems there are in this world. However, this post posits that sexism has gotten worse in the 2000s and as I grew up in the 90s, I suppose my experience as a feminist is somewhat invalid in the argument about our daughters' futures.

The bottom line is that yes: social conditioning exists, as it does in Brave New World. We might not be whispering our children to sleep with lies about how good it feels to be an Alpha-Plus, but we're entertaining them with commercials that claim they need that new backpack or that all girls love pink. And even if I, as a mother, refuse to let my daughter watch television or look at fashion magazines, one commenter pointed out that the girls at my daughter's school won't necessarily live by such strict rules, and she will be exposed to these ideas in some way.

Backing away from the idea of future children for a minute: the bottom line is the my own experience has told me that I'm socially conditioned by my gender, for better or for worse. This fact was triggered for me while reading Brave New World: in one part, the Director talks about the fact that the lower-caste peoples were conditioned to love sports in the country. This conditioning had a two-fold effect: first, the people would consume transportation to get to the country; second, they would also need to purchase sports equipment in order to participate in these activities. This way, the demand for products is higher and society benefits from everybody's consumerism.

And yes, it seems that women are specifically targeted in this way. Growing up we are inundated with information about our beauty. We need this kind of makeup in order to cover up the circles under our eyes, or we need this kind of pore cleanser to prevent blackheads. Yes, it's true that men aren't entirely unaffected by this kind of gender-based advertising, but the advertising geared towards women typically has the kinds of products that, frankly, most men don't feel compelled to buy. I try to spend wisely because I don't make all the money in the world; however, I have noticed it is a lot easier for my brother to live a spartan lifestyle than me. Aside from our basic differences in personalities (I have an obsession with owning design and art objects that he does not necessarily share), I also find myself needing to buy makeup, clothing, hair products, and any number of basic hygenic products more often than he does. Because of my gender-based consumer conditioning, I incur more expenses than him in the month simply because I am a girl.

I will, of course, exempt all people who live outside of the traditional gender binary in this critique of society: of course men who perform as women have to buy makeup. I'm not saying we're so heavily conditioned that it's physically impossible for us to buy products that are typically intended for one gender or the other. But the point is: if a man decides he wants to buy makeup, he gets a label. And these labels are often pejorative, ranging from the mildest (metrosexual) to the most severe (she-male). One is even at peril when crossing the invisible consumer gender divide. And we have social conditioning to thank for that.

this song: sexy bitch

If you've been reading this blog at all, you have probably figured out by now that I am a humorless femi-Nazi who spends a good deal of time on the internet with other femi-Nazi commenters on Jezebel (hi Jezebel!) Obviously all of this should be foot-noted with "/sarc," but I really feel like I need to start this post off with an appropriate amount of self-awareness and self-deprecation because I'm about to dismantle a song called "Sexy Bitch" by David Guetta featuring Akon. Click on the play button below and give the song a whirl.

A lot of the song is so auto-tuned that I am afraid you will miss the key details of the lyrics, so I have pasted them below:

Damn, you's a sexy bitch

Yes, I can see her
'Cause every girl in here wanna be her
Oh, she's a diva
I feel the same and I wanna meet her

They say she low down
It's just a rumor and I don't believe 'em
They say she needs to slow down
The baddest thing around town

She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before
Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood ho
I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful
The way that booty movin', I can't take no more
Have to stop what I'm doin' so I can pull up close
I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful

(Damn, girl)
Damn, you's a sexy bitch, a sexy bitch
Damn, you's a sexy bitch (x2)
Damn, girl

This chorus is so priceless. The first time I heard the line "I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful" I did a spit-take that looked something like this:

Like whoa. I mean, really dude? You can't find a single word to describe a girl you really like that isn't disrespectful? Here, let me help you out with a list:

Good, respectful words to use to describe a girl you really like

Beautiful

Pretty

Intelligent

Smart

Sensual

Funny

Amazing

Light of my Life

Genuine

Gorgeous

Dreamy

Alluring

Attractive

Magnificent

Marvelous

Sublime

Fit

Wonderful

Nice

Awesome

Good

Great

Lovely

Fabulous

Fantastic

Brilliant

Astute

Sharp

Bright

Sexy (arguable)

Hot (arguable)

...etc. Just type "Beautiful" or "Intelligent" or any one of those words into a thesaurus and you'll find yourself with so many respectful ways to describe a girl you'll probably need a snack before you go through them all.

However, I think I should point out that there are, indeed, words you can use that are disrespectful. And, in fact, you use them in your song.

Bad, disrespectful words you probably shouldn't use when describing a girl you really like:

Bitch

Diva

Booty Movin'

Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood ho

Some words I would also recommend not using (and am afraid you are about to because of this song you just wrote) in any description in any way of any woman in your life, ever, if you want to be respectful:

Cunt

Slut

Prostitute

Whore (in fact, any slang or proper word for a woman who sleeps around or gets paid to go to bed with someone)

Twat

...etc

All right, I think this speaks for itself. I'll leave out explicitly analyzing the line "nothing you can compare to your neighborhood ho" and leave you now. I hope you, dear reader, see that there are many many ways in which to describe a woman respectfully.

crap email in the customer service industry

Recently a friend of mine who works in a customer service segment of a ticketing company forwarded me a crazed email that some disgruntled customer sent in to one of her colleagues. The email is shocking in its vulgarity, creativity, racism, and vitriol. As someone who has been on both ends of the customer service spectrum (I've worked in retail and I've also yelled at a debt collector on the phone), I'm filled with a bewildered appreciation for how truly awesome this email is. So I present it to you, dear reader, with identifying information redacted to protect all of those involved:

Dear [redacted],

I want to thank you for your quick email and now I want you to do me a favor.

Please print out the email that you sent me roll it up in a ball and shove it in your ass.

And the rest of the clowns that work with you can all go fuck yourselves.

Why the fuck would you tell me that the tickets would be available at 3pm [redacted city] time when you no well that there was going to be nothing there.They dont even know who you people are.

Between yesterday and today I spent 4 hours of my life trying to pick up my tickets that have been paid for for a long time and now your fucking with me well I tell you what, either you can get on a plane and come to [redacted city] or you can wait until I get back to the states and you can make it up to me and blow me for four hours.

My question to you sweetie is where the fuck are the tickets? Why would I buy the tickets from you with the knowlegde that I can have the tickets 72 hours before so that I dont have to fuck with all these monkies down here on the day of the show? I know why because I am an asshole and purchased them from you clowns and became a member of a piece of shit fan club. I could have purchased the tickets with someone local and I would have had the tickets weeks ago.

I hope that tomorrow someone shows up with the tickets you fucks!

That´s all for now, Take care, have a nice day and thank you for everything!

P.S. fuck you all!

This email is so inspiring it's got me thinking: perhaps there should be a blog for all of those offensive customer service emails that people have to deal with at work? Would you be interested in reading that?

forever 21: outright proscribing gender roles and pissin' me off

So I recently got a gift card to Forever 21 for Christmas and I decided to spend it last weekend. The Forever 21 was on Michigan Ave (the Magnificent Mile portion, that is) so of course it's on one of those streets in the country that's a bastion of capitalism and consumerism. In other words, it's so mainstream it's kind of painful so I should have expected something to tick off my feminist sensibilities. However, I went in there salivating over the fact that big ballerina tulle skirts are somehow in vogue. Every glittery, cheap looking shirt was a revelation. I was in shopping heaven. At one point, I literally looked at the vast store and all of its many offerings and thought "Oh, the Joys of Capitalism!!!" It's rare that I have a shopping ecstatic state, but I definitely had it that day. Until I got in line to purchase my fare.

That is when I saw the sign on the wall that I've posted above. I should probably explain that I was in the store without having bathed in like, three days, and my hair dye is all washed out right now and I was wearing one of those big North Face winter coats that makes me want to die because it's so unfashionable but it's January here in Chicago and that sucks. The point I'm trying to get across: I did not have my hair done and I wasn't about to go back to the train and sit around with my knees crossed. When I saw a sign on the wall telling me that this franchise not only encouraged me to always look immaculate, it in fact COMMANDED me to do so, I was outraged. I wish I could say I turned around and left the store without buying anything and I never plan to go back--but I really wanted that 11.50 floral shirt. I'm human.

What I did instead was whip out my camera and take an illicit photo before the women of the store could stop me. Then I decided to come home and write a blog post about it. Because damn, is this shit fucked up. Forever 21's demographic ranges from the early teens to the mid twenties, and I think it's pathetic that the decorator of the store would participate in reinforcing such stereotypical gender hierarchy. I know I'm getting what I paid for when it comes to this store. People who shop at Forever 21 typically want clothes that fit neatly into the gender binary, but I just don't think that this society understands the fact that there is little that is "innate" about the genders. Women don't wear their hair perfect and cross their legs at the knee because it's natural to do so--they do it because they grew up in a time and place that told them they were expected to do so. A society that, in fact, might punish them severely if they did not perform these "feminine" duties. So we all thoughtlessly whip around, espousing ideas about how guys are this way and girls are that way, and then paste a sign on a wall in clothing store that dictates that women have perfect hair without thinking about why there is so much violence against transgendered people. FUCK THAT!

I would like to end this post by stating that I will not abide this shit any longer: if I see anything that commands me to live a certain way just because I was born with a vagina, I'm taking a picture of it and ripping the institution a new one!!!!

Boy cut, hipster, thong or bikini?

POSTCARDS FROM YO MOMMA REBLOGGED

on history, being middle class, writing a blog, everything in the history of mankind!

I've been reading a book of essays by Sarah Vowell that my roommate lent me called Take the Cannoli. It's an interesting enough book, one I like but don't love, and only occasionally does her writing hit a nerve. I will say that we don't have too much in common in the way that we live our lives but it's cool to read about someone from Oklahoma who lives in (or has lived in) Chicago and wrote a lot in the 90s.

Regardless, this quote in particular piqued my interest and I thought: this is it. This passage is the impetus for me to write the definitive Blog Entry about Identity and History in the United States as a White Middle Class girl aka The Search for Authenticity.

In one particular essay Vowell writes about a road trip that she and her sister took following the route of the Trail of Tears. They went on the trip because they are part Cherokee. At the end, they meet up with their aunts and uncles in their hometown in Oklahoma. Vowell talks to her uncle Hoy about this life, a man who fought in WWII and never received any education past the third grade because he worked on a farm. During this conversation she thinks, "All these historical forces bore down on him, but he did not break. Still, compared to him, compared to the people we descend from, I am free of history. I'm so free of history I have to get in a car and drive seven states to find it" (p. 156).

Ah, the idea that we are free from history. I wrangle with this concept a lot. Sometimes I feel like such an unspecified mass that who's gonna bother with me? I'm a person who is not unlike a million other people, in that I have a college education and pierced ears and I like to shop at Urban Outfitters. As a member of the educated upper middle class with a family that came to America generations over generations ago, I feel no ties to any particular place. When I go home to North Carolina I hate driving and love the heat. When I come back to Chicago I love the public transportation and hate the cold. When I tell people where I'm from they ask why I don't have a Southern accent. Every time I go to my grandfather's home I find myself searching through photo albums, looking for images of people that preceded me, searching for a narrative of life before myself.

All of these examples are supposed to illustrate the fact that I feel like a tweener: can't stay here, can't go there, don't feel connected anywhere. Sometimes it feels like I'm supposed to aspire to the lifestyles of the rich and the famous. As a pop culture fiend I'm constantly inundated with images of consumerism. I want to travel everywhere, I want to buy everything, I want a big ass house with like, a gigantic venetian glass chandelier. I want to see the entire world anonymously, fitting into every culture like drops in the great flowing rivers of cultures in the world.

But I also just wanted to feel rooted to a place. I want people to know where I am from by looking at me, by the way I talk. I want to feel rooted to a time. I want histories that affect me, causes that inspire me. Fuck, I want to be like the hobbits in Lord of the Rings: constantly dreaming of my ideal place, the shire of the human race, if only I could return there after I dump this ring in that big fiery volcano.

This issue is something I've discussed with my brother before, perhaps more eloquently. What it boils down to is that sometimes I feel like I'm on a gigantic quest for Authenticity. When I'm outside of the South I like to talk about North Carolina barbeque because it makes me sound like someone who is rooted to a place, who knows her background. But the truth is that I rarely eat barbeque. And that one of my earliest memories is barfing barbeque all over my grandparents' floor because my stomach couldn't handle all the meat. And I don't know that much about the Civil War, although I do know where Stonewall Jackson's nickname came from (kind of). I'm free to drift the waves of the internet, of culture, of place, and of time, but all I find myself doing is wistfully hoping that someday I'll find a place where I want to be permanently.

I understand that this feeling is a romanticization of time and place. Do I really want to grow up in a culture where all of the men I know are shipped off to an unfeeling trench war? Do I want to have deal with Prohibition? With slavery? With famine? With even more serious misogyny and sexism?

All I can really say is that I'm too poor to spend the rest of my life globe trotting and too rich to stay in one place without suffering from some sort of unhappiness in relation to the fact that I never "escaped" my hometown, so I'm stuck jumping around until something smacks me in the face and tells me to stay put. Oh, the trials of a poor little rich white girl. I know I sound pathetically privileged but it's the truth. Can any of you relate to this feeling?

In the meantime, a links list

Hello All!

It's January 2010 and I'm not giving much of a crap about the whole new decade distinction just yet. Maybe it's because I recently started another soul sucking corporate job but DAMN SON. I'm probably gonna use company time tomorrow to write something that is really thought provoking and shizNITE but tonight I'm just gonna let everybody in on some links I've been really into:

what claudia wore: a blog that reblogs every description of what the character Claudia Kishi wore in the Babysitter Club books. If you know me, you know that I love this. If you don't me, you should love the fact that this "fierce bitch" (as the blogger puts it) wears shirts with cacti on them.

dealbreaker: a tumblr that lists all the ways in which a relationship "can stop dead in its tracks." fun for snark, not fun if you're feeling insecure about the ways you ruined your relationship.

poladroid: make your digital photos look like polaroids. see banner above for an example. it's also the cutest program you ever ran on your computer if you so choose to download it.

bringing Moby back: my BFFers and I have been on this mission for a long time, but now there's a facebook group to commemorate it. Please, dear god, PLEASE help bring Moby back!

twitter: to which you all say, duh? But can I get a what what for how much I love using that website to find the links on Etsy I really care about? I mean, that is about 90% of what I use twitter for.

Enjoy!