Embracing the Enormity

One reason that I've stopped posting regularly was that the enormity of the various tasks at hand are sometimes overwhelming. Fighting sexism? Ongoing, huge battle. Fighting classicism? Ditto. Fighting racism? Yet another seemingly impossible task. All the while, finding a space to do this as a white, middle-class man? Sigh.

Add to that a growing understanding that communities of protest, communities that seek justice, often aren't very good allies, well, that makes one take a few steps back, reassess and rest.

But of course, 'resting' can be privilege-driven, can't it? I can stop posting, sure, but here I am, living in the US as a white, middle-class man...putting down my pen (so to speak) just means I get a break, to a large degree (though I would claim that men don't get a break from the hardships that patriarchy places on them, either). When BFP stops posting, and takes down her site, because she's understandably fed up, she still has to face a racist, sexist world.

So I'm starting to feel like my hiatus here, while fueled by understandable concerns for my own mental and physical health, is also a way of letting my white/male/able-bodied privilege win out. And, while I think that shutting up can be a lot of what an ally ought to be, I also think that there are ways that I can raise my voice without shouting down those-who-I-would-be-an-ally-of.

So, to start off, howabout a little checklist for myself, to combat the desire to take another break?

1. But it's hard to hear that one isn't being a good ally.
Yep. Sure is. Getting called out feels like shit, especially since people are much more likely to blame than praise in the world o' blogs. You work really hard on trying to bring social justice, and you get called out for what, to you, might seem like small things. But you know what? You don't get to judge what counts as a 'small thing'. These are communities we're talking about, and we're all in it together, so if enough people call you out and say it's important, then it is.

2. There's just too much work to do.
Also true. But keep in mind that you're not doing it alone, and you're not even facing the most daunting challenges--others are. You post about comics and men & feminism, for goodness' sake, not systematic rape in the congo. Maybe you should be posting about other, more important things, but to claim that posting about comics and gender is too daunting, as one of your tasks, is to embrace your privilege. Fight that.

3. But I'm Not Welcome.
Not in every community, not all of the time. That's why this space exists, in part. And there are those who value your voice, and who value what you say. Seek them out. Nurture them. And continue to understand that it's ok that you're not welcome some places. Keep the righteous indignation at a minimum, because it is so often a reflection of your privilege.

There's more, of course, but this is a start.

What Men Can Do Wednesday: Get Some Help with Being an Ally

There is a great discussion going on over at Creek Running North on an 'Ally 101' thread started by Theriomorph around how to be a good feminist ally, and how to keep one's privilege and racism in check as much one can. I encourage everybody who isn't already reading it to check it out.

Some of the comments are simply put, but full of good advice. From commentor Christina, of Say Nothing Charmingly, in particular sticks with me:

I really just think that listening, leavened with a touch of empathy, is what is needed. Since historically, white folks haven’t had to listen to others much, nor feel empathy for others much, it’s not as easy as it sounds to learn it.

Hat tip to BlueAlto.

I've Been Silent About the Imus Crap....

...partly because there's so many people who have said things much more lucidly than I ever could. You know, people like Gwen Ifill:

Hat tip to Feministing.

Parents as Teachers

Sage over at Persephone's Box has an absolutely fantastic post up about moms teaching their daughters about potential dangers from men as they grow up. She notes that not talking about this stuff is putting your child out into the world with less information than she ought to have:

So, maybe, because I’m out there a lot, I’ve gotten more than my share of harassment. I’d like to think that’s the case because the stories are really piling up, and I’d hate to think it happens with this frequency to every woman. That’d just be too much to take. La la la, I can’t hear you.

But what really concerns me, is that I was never educated about this reality by anyone along the way. My parents didn’t like me wandering the streets at night, so I snuck out after they were in bed. But that’s not really the issue at all because harassment happens in broad daylight all the time. And I think we need to tell our kids all about it. We can’t just keep them locked in their rooms. They’ve got to be let out at some point. So they need to be really prepared for potential issues.

This just makes good sense, it seems to me, although I wonder how difficult it is to walk the line between giving good information/warning and encouraging a culture of fear--it's got to be hard to give your daughter all of the information without just scaring the stuffing out of her. Sage acknowledges this implicitly above when she says 'la la la, I can't hear you'. (Maybe you can't really inform without causing a tendency for fear?)

Part of Sage's strategy was to make a sort of ritual rite of passage with her daughter--they spent some time away together talking about these things, and also bonding and having some fun. What a great freakin' parent.

I'd like to say that it's got to be the case that dads need to be having similar conversations with their kids, boys and girls alike. Similar, but different in important ways--I think 'purity ball' thinking needs to be avoided, for instance. And what sorts of conversations ought dads be having with their sons? Presumably, one hopes one's kid learns not to stalk, like some of the men in Sage's stories. But what sorts of stories might a dad tell his son to encourage him to respect himself, to respect women, and to make this a less dangerous world for women and men, and those of various genders?

I'm not a parent, and I doubt that I'll ever be. But it seems to me that one thing dads can teach their sons is to speak out against the oppression of women when they see it, both on a day-to-day level and on a more grand scale. If I were to have a son (and I am an uncle, so I may get to do this), I'd tell him a stories about my mother, who stood up to sexist jerks her whole life. I'd tell him a few stories about how I or another man stood up to other men, resisted violence and the like. Come to think of it, I'd probably tell the same stories to a daughter, if I had one.

Those of you who are parents, or want to be (or are uncles and aunts), what lessons would you want told?

Another Reason I Call Myself a Feminist

Tekanji over at Shrub.com posted a great youtube video of Kendra Urdang performing a piece of poetry, "To Every Man Who Never Called Himself a Feminist". I hope Tekanji doesn't mind my reposting it over here, because I think it is powerful and it sort of backs up one of the reasons I call myself a feminist (unless I'm in a group of feminists who pretty much don't think men ought to, which is rare): It immediately puts my beliefs up front, and doesn't allow me to stay as safe within my privilege.


Not to take away from the seriousness of Urdang's piece, but here's one more small example of speaking out against sexism and the oppression of women that has to do with why I might call myself a feminist:

The other day I got in the elevator with my new-ish neighbor and she was all dressed up in a way I hadn't seen before and I asked her if she was dressed up for a special occasion. She told me her workplace was having a celebration in honor of International Women's Day. I told her how great I thought it was that her workplace (a university) celebrated that, and she was surprised that I felt that way. This was an elevator ride conversation, necessarily short, so I told her, "Well, I'm a feminist." I could have gone into the ins-and-outs of what that means (some of them, anyway), but it's a great shorthand, most of the time that allows me to quickly explain to a surprised person why I might take an interest in International Women's Day, for instance.

Which is not to say that I don't understand that there are complexities involved with the label (including my deciding, as a man, to use it)--but just to lend some credit to the idea that labeling oneself both 'man' and 'feminist' can help get conversations going, can help me not be silent.

Allies

Dora over at Shrub.com has an absolutely fantastic post on what it means to be an ally (or what it ought to mean!). I think she gives a great, nuanced mountain of advice to those of us who want to be allies in various ways. For instance, she points out that simply agreeing with, say, feminist ideals isn't enough, especially for those of us who are part of the privileged group--to be an ally, you also have to speak out. She says:

Make your support known

Another huge part of being an ally is being a visible, vocal supporter of anti-oppression work. That means more than just agreeing with non-privileged members and remaining silent yourself. You’ve got to join the struggle.

This is not easy, right? For male allies of feminists, speaking up against sexism can generate adverse reactions from other men, because it threatens the collective performance of masculinity. Allies risk accusations of being feminine or possibly even gay. As for white people, bringing up racism is taboo in ‘polite’ conversation. They can be chastised for bringing up problems, making waves, being divisive, getting stuck on the past of racial inequities. In all instances of challenging privilege, you carry the risk of social disapproval, ostracization, and even hostility. Of course this stuff isn’t easy.

Now imagine what women and people of color have to go through, all the damn time.

I would add that an actual act of imagining this is something allies ought to be doing, and regularly. It takes effort, and act of will, to continually put oneself in the shoes of others as much as one can; it takes some imagination, I think. One thing that can help people who are allies deal with the adverse reactions of other men (and women) to speaking out is to remind ourselves that those in various non-privileged groups have to deal with adverse reactions all of the time, and don't have a lot of choice in the matter a good deal of the time.