The commencement of a "man" in a "man's" world: Chapters 1-3 of "Self-Made Man"

Norah Vincent’s journalistic piece Self-Made Man raises plenty of questions surrounding gender. Despite her overwhelming appeal to emotions and her tendency to over-generalize, Vincent recognizes many of the ways gender is socially constructed that supports the idea of gender as a performance. Additionally, her experience as a “man” shows the oppressive nature of patriarchy, and its affects on women and men.

Chapter 1 “Getting Started” describes Norah’s transformation into Ned, the man she will perform for a year. Her interest in drag started through a friend and manifested itself in a night out in the East Village of New York as a man. In that single outing Norah remembers having an epiphany of sorts about the way men interact on a daily basis: The men she came across looked away immediately instead of holding a gaze. This was contrary to Norah’s experience as a female living in that same neighborhood. As a woman, Norah had to constantly try to ignore the male eyes that followed her down the street. While she was in drag, Norah recalls feeling “the respect they [the neighborhood men] showed me by not looking at me, by purposely not staring” (3). She confirms her experiential hypothesis through male friends and was astounded that what she had experienced was the norm. She had “learned such an important secret about the way males and females communicate with each other, and about the unspoken codes of male experience” in such a short period, what about if she passed as a man for much longer period of time (4). Couldn’t she “potentially observe much more about the social differences between the sexes”? From there Norah takes transforming to a man very seriously. She wanted to offer an analytical and introspective narrative on the “sociological implications of passing as the opposite sex” that was not found in mainstream media portrayals of gender bending. With the help of a few professionals- (makeup artist, personal weight-lifting trainer/dietician, and a voice coach) and new accessories-(glasses, clothes, etc.), Norah began her journey as a man, in a man’s world.

The end of chapter 1 commences a trend in Norah’s journalism; an appeal to emotions that at times perhaps skews other aspects (including the analytical and introspective) of the story. She disclaims that while she deceived and lied to many people in the writing of this piece she “can claim with relative surety that in the end [she] paid a higher emotional price for my circumstantial deceptions that an of my subjects did”

Ned joins a bowling league for his first attempt to enter the “male” world in Chapter 2: “Friendship.” Although his biggest challenge in this chapter was his lack of bowling skills, Ned learns many things about his male bowling companions- Jim, Bob, and Allen. These three men are stereotypical American bowlers- white, middle-aged, and working-class men, escaping their wives and families once a week at the local bowling ally. However, Norah’s initial judgment of the men proves wrong as they struggle with things that aren’t “typically male.” Jim’s wife, for example, is dying of cancer and while it is not appropriate to show too much emotion, Ned notices the subtle things that show Jim’s love for his wife. Additionally, Norah’s description of Alex’s (Bob’s son) presence at the bowling ally begins to unravel the complexities of the socialization of boys into men (rite of passage-esque).

What struck me the most about this chapter was the fleeting recognition of class in these men’s lives. Although Norah does mention these things her approach to her bowling friends lacks an analysis that understands the emphasis that class (and race) play in the shaping of these men’s masculinities. Further, I was completely surprise (and in some ways unconvinced) with the responses of Jim, Allen, and Bob of finding out that Ned was in fact a woman. Do you think Vincent could be altering some of the happenings, or have I (and in some ways society) misinterpreted and stereotyped these type of men?

Ned is introduced to the infamous “titty bar” in Chapter 3 “Sex.” This was the most revealing and interesting of chapters for me. Ned begins to understand the culture of these clubs and comes to extremely insightful conclusions. Vincent paints the pictures of the “titty bar” as a separate culture. It is a place where men go to express their sexuality in “appropriate” ways. These ways include wanting and liking to look at naked women that meet an unnatural standard of “beauty” one that largely resembles something fake – like a doll. Although the portrayal of these women and the men’s response to it is surely misogynistic, Vincent thinks part of it may be contrary to misogyny; “…the idea that you [heterosexual men] could only treat as an object something that resembled a real woman as little as possible, because only then could you bear to mistreat it and yourself enough to satisfy your instincts” (79). Toward the end of the chapter Vincent further concludes “In those places male sexuality felt like something you weren’t supposed to feel but did, like something heavy you were carrying around and had nowhere to unload except in the lap of some damaged stranger” (90). She continues to outline a larger theme in the book which I really agree with and like- that men are just as much victims in these types of situations as women- but in very different ways. Men’s “victim-hood” has differing levels of oppressive results and is hard to directly compare to women’s but nonetheless, no one comes out clean.

So far I have enjoyed reading Vincent’s journey as a Ned. Her experiences thus far, show that performing maleness has its unwarranted side-effects and in a patriarchical society where they are largely the oppressors being a man is not as liberating as we may initially think. How would you respond to the questions below?

Questions:

1. To what extent is Ned performing gender? Does Norah’s performance of Ned refute or support Butler’s ideas in Gender Trouble? (For example, in order to truly perform gender in the dichotomous system, do you have to truthfully identify with the gender you are performing?)
2. Are there limitations to how much one can learn in just drag about the opposite biological sex?
3. To what extent is Vincent ignoring class, race, and sexual orientation in her analysis of male culture?

Butler part II

In the second chapter of Gender Trouble, Butler takes up a commonplace of feminist theory, the patriarchy. She notes that many feminists have tried to produce and analyze the pre-patriarchal state of culture as a model upon which they can base a new, non-oppressive society. She cautions, however, this feminist recourse to pre-patriarchy to not “promote a politically problemative reification of women’s experience in the course of debunking the self-reifying claims of masculinist power” (p. 48). In other words, she doesn’t want new “stories of origins” to be created while we try to debunk the old. Essentially, Butler is describing the way in which feminist discourse has and needs to continue to, “locate moments or structures within history or culture that establish gender hierarchy” in order to, “repudiate those reactionary theories which would naturalize or universalize the subordination of women” (49). It is using this type of analysis Butler hopes we can understand the formation of gender and its origins.

I. Structuralism’s Critical Exchange

Structuralism is one of the French schools of thought Butler uses in her gender analysis. Butler describes Levi-Strauss’s, a famous structuralist, view of the “critical exchange”. The critical exchange is the exchange of females from different clans for marriage (otherwise known as exogamy). A structualist analysis of this exchange is what reveals the “incest taboo.” It starts with the ideas that women were exchanged, in reality, to bond the men together (homosocial). That bonding is what precedes the “incest taboo” or, in other words, the incest taboo necessitates a kinship structure governed by the exchange of women. Butler also claims that incest is a “pervasive cultural fantasy” that is perpetuated because it is taboo.

Butler ends this section with an interesting quote, “language is the residue and alternative accomplishment of dissatisfied desire, the variegated cultural reduction of a sublimination that never really satisfies” (58)- I think then what she is saying is that the “taboos” that have come about through a variety of historical contexts have also created a limited language to talk about alternative sex practices….Feel free to help me out with this.

II. Lacan, Riviere, and the Strategies of Masquerade

Butler addresses Lacan and Riviere’s theories on masquerade. She begins with an analysis of Lacan’s language (Symbolic) of to have (the phallus) and to be (the phallus). Men have the phallus and thus women strive “to be” the phallus. “To be” the phallus embodies and affirms the phallus. Lacan concludes that, this “‘appearing as being’ the Phallus that women are compelled to do is inevitably masquerade” (63). This claim brings up the idea that there is a “being” or “ontological specification of femininity prior to the masquerade…that might promise an eventual disruption and displacement of the phallogocentric signifying economy” (64).

Riviere’s psychoanalytic description of “womanliness as a masquerade” supposedly hides masculine identification and therefore also conceals a desire for female homosexuality. A mask is used to defend their feelings and protect individuals from societal disapproval (gay men mask in masculine heterosexuality and “masculine” women in femininity).

Is “masking” or “masquerading,” then, performing gender? If yes, then what is truly being masked?

III. Freud and the Melancholia of Gender

Freud’s psychoanalytic explanation of mourning and melancholia states that “loss” prompts the ego to incorporate attributes of the lost loved one itself. In other words “the ego is said to incorporate the other into the very structure of the ego” sustaining this “lost” one with “magical acts of imitation” (78). Furthering this theory, gender too can be internalized with the “imitation” of internalized taboos. “This process of internalizing lost loves becomes pertinent to gender formation…” (79).

Butler questions assumptions that are present in Freud’s arguments that seem to negate the view that gender is performed. She states that many of his theories and claims “disguise its own genealogy. In others words “dispositions” are traces of a history of enforced sexual prohibitions which is untold and prohibitions seek to render untellable” (87).

IV. Gender Complexity and the limits of identification and V. Reformulating prohibition as power

Butler, at the end states that, “an even more precise understanding is needed of how the juridical law of psychoanalysis, repression, produces and proliferates the genders it seeks to control” (97). She points again to the productivity of the incest taboo, a law which generates and also regulates approved heterosexuality and homosexuality as subversive and “before” or prior to the “law.”

Feminst Porn (and dialogue) in a third-wave context, please?

Knowing that I hadn’t explored feminist porn to its full potential, I was skeptical and hesitant to learn more about it. I expected to be either turned-off or offended by the porn that claimed to be “feminist,” but my exploration into the area changed my mind. I enjoyed aspects of some of the clips and directors we viewed on Friday. My favorite was the Comstock film, I never thought porn could really capture the potential for emotional connection, but the Xana and Dax (along with a short preview of Comstock’s film Ashley and Kisha) proved me wrong.

The blogs assigned mainly centered on some of the debates surrounding the porn industry. Because of the amount of arguments made, and the complexity of many of them, I am going to avoid trying to summarize the readings and focus more on responding to how many of the arguments fit into third-wave feminism and our class.

Reading the blogs on the web was, at times, extremely irritating. The complexities of the porn industry are exhausting, especially when many of the feminist porn makers seem to have the same goals. Similarly, was the frustrating idea that many of our allies for sexual freedom and feminist ideals are often split on “little” things (with recognizable larger implications), like, for example, whether or not it is “feminist” to have a man come in a woman’s face….I know the intricacy’s of porn-making, especially in trying to produce a porn that is feminist and non-misogynistic, but to what extent can arguments, not unlike the ones we saw in CAKE versus Levy, distract us from the real goals of third-wave feminism?

First and second-wave feminism have been largely criticized for being racists, classists, and ethnocentric. I do not in any way refute these claims. Instead, I find it interesting to think about the porn-debate in the context of these waves. How much has the feminist- porn industry been criticized for being theses things? Not much discussion about class and race came up in the blogs. Comstock was the only one to speak to race and gender directly, and I am confused about my reaction to his response.

Ashley and Kisha, Comstock’s newest film, features two lesbian identified, black women. He seems to struggle sales of the movie at first, and wants to initially blame the lack of sales on some larger societal racial trend. Then he steps back for moment, and reflects:

I think there ways to depict sex that can transcend race, gender, or sexuality, and Jessica, Linda, JAG [people who’ve said generous things about A&K] and the others are helping to sustain me in my belief that by focusing on the subjective aspects of the sexual experience, I can reach across boundaries of race, or gender, or sexual taste.

The part I disagree with is the lack of acknowledgement of class. In my opinion, a dialogue surrounding who has access to feminist porn, who is making it, who is starring in it, etc. is lacking in Comstock’s analysis, and also in the current feminist-porn movement. Similarly, I don’t know how I feel about these comments, as well:

Of course our differences still matter… but those aren’t the only things that matter, and they’re not always the thing that matters the most. You don’t have to be African-American to be inspired by the story of the Tuskegee Airmen; you don’t have to be Jewish to feel the horror of The Holocaust; you don’t have to be young, black, or a lesbian to know when you’re watching Kisha ride Ashley’s face, you’re seeing something that’s as right as rain.

Do you think what unites as sexual beings is more important than our other differences?

Is there something in sex/sexuality that is inherent in human beings and can be understood on that level? Or does Comstock oversimplify the roles that “race, gender, or sexual taste” play in shaping us as sexual beings?

It is hard for me to respond to a concrete thing we have learned in our porn section. I would like to shape our knowledge of these new things, however, in a context that takes into account race, class, and gender.

I'm not feeling so "hot"...where's my handbook?

In Gallagher and Kramer’s part II of The Hot Woman’s Handbook, hetero-normative language is rampant. The subsequent chapters all focus on heterosexual relationships, sex positions, dirty talk, voyeurism, and casual sex. I am sure many of you saw this blatant unwillingness to include a specific population of women and men, but what was their purpose in doing so?

Part II is all about how to “get it on” with your partner (of the opposite sex). Moving away from the self-satisfaction of masturbation and orgasms, Gallagher and Kramer move into a dialogue on the different facets of heterosexual sex. Chapter 6 describes the ABC’s of sex acts from the typicl “missionary position” all the way to “the grind.” There are intermittent helpful hints about how exactly to tell “your man” how to find your G-spot or how not to “dry up” while engaging in sex. And, of course, they don’t forget to “liberate” the men by claiming that actually, physical “size really doesn’t matter!” Every page seems the same, and is predictable. I am very unengaged from the reading while simultaneously thrown off-guard with over-the-top heterosexist language like when they are talking about size and shape of the penis and say, “Luckily, that difference isn’t about just one ideal but about getting two people to fit together right” (106). What about two people who technically don’t physically “fit together”? Also in chapter 6 is a brief section on birth control and the importance of having safe-sex, is that sufficient? Isn’t being safe an important part of having “sexual pleasure”?

Chapter 7 and 8 turn focus to sex toys and “dirty talk,” respectively. They give examples of different ways to use dirty talk and sex toys; they even have stories to back up their successes. If you were deterred to buy a vibrator/talk dirty because of you were worried what your boyfriend might think, you no longer have to worry. They all like toys/dirty talk too (italics added for sarcasm). Gallagher and Kramer, heterosexuality assumptions aside, should ask why we are afraid of telling our husbands/boyfriends that we own a vibrator or like to “talk dirty” instead of telling us “go ahead do it, they’ll probably enjoy it!”

Chapter 9 has a different tone to it. Gallagher and Kramer make a point of making sure that women know it is OK to like to be watched. Similarly, the criticize feminist film theory and its discussion of the “male gaze.” On page 144 they state, “as useful as this theory [the male gaze] may be in unveiling the power and prebalence of male fantasy, we are not stuck in passive position of a sex object for men’s pleasure…even when we are being looked at as sexual, we are looking right back.” I was taken aback by this comment. I agree that it’s fine and legitimate if women enjoy being watched, but is that because of the patriarchical power structures that have been in place for as long as we can remember? Are women truly feeling sexual from being “gazed” at or are they mistaking feeling “sexual” for feeling “hot” or “wanted” because that is what we have been taught to strive for?

Chapter 10 discusses the possibility to have heterosexual one-night-stands. The authors go through a series of locations/situations in which you can easily initiated sex with strangers. Included in these scenarios is “Workin’ it at the office” (assuming you are employed), “Checkin’ it out at the gym” (assuming you can afford a gym membership), “Maxin’ and relaxin” on vacation” (assuming you go on vacation- specifically vacation in Geneva). You get the point. I do agree that double standards for men and women have to end, I’m not sure fighting back with one-night-stands is the most effective way to “fight back.”

I especially disliked the interludes of “surrender the pink” where, at the end of each chapter, women tell there heterosexual sex fantasies. These stories contain explicit language and images that turn me off to sex. What I consider as sexy or liberating was not included in this book. While I did learn a few things (especially about masturbating), I was too offended by the explicit language, (that made me feel degraded and unsexy), that I took little away from the chapters. I know this is for a specific audience and appeals to a specific genre, but to what extent does that make it OK or acceptable? Further, to what extent are images of getting “slammed against a wall and fucked up the ass” associations or images of sex we have seen in the media/porn and not really what we desire? Will we ever be able to fully distinguish between the two? As much as I was critical of Levy (just see my above post) the more I read Gallagher and Kramer the more I start leaning in her argument’s direction.

Is CAKES Guide to Female Sexual Pleasure feminist?

So...now what?

I found Levy’s premise of blaming female chauvinist pigs (FCP) absent in the second half of her book. Instead, Levy criticizes, and consequentially blames, other areas of U.S. culture/society that she believes bolsters shallow, anti-feminists, and chauvinistic behavior. I found myself nodding more and more in the latter half of the book rather than scribbling furiously in the margins. Of course there were still many points where I seriously disagreed or saw flaws in her arguments, but for the sake of conversation, and to avoid sounding redundant, I wish to expand on some of Levy’s more compelling arguments and respond to where she leaves us at the end of of her novel.

For one, I agree with Levy on the point that the majority of Americans have a narrow definition of sex and sexuality. Women, she argues, have been exposed to a commercialized conception of sex. Sex has been symbolized as “big fake boobs, bleached blonde hair, long nails, poles, thongs” and it has been portrayed this way so that we can, in essence, “sell” and/or “buy” sexiness/beauty. Similarly, this commercialized view of sex has led many American women to conceive sex as a performance for others or as a way to be a “real” “experienced” woman. Further, a woman’s want to have sex validates their “womanhood” which society equates to their sexuality. “How was I (in bed)?” becomes more important than “Did I have a fulfilling, enjoying sexual experience?” As a woman I can’t help but ask why we question ourselves when we feel ugly, delegitimized, or unfit by society rather than questioning society itself or the people who run it.

To my relief, Levy explicitly states the contradictions that surround sex, (particularly teenage sex), in the U.S. Sex is everywhere it evades our everyday lives and it is nearly impossible to escape it. On the other hand, we are supposed to passively acknowledge it. We are supposed to be sexual but NOT have sex or explore our personal sexuality in ways outside “raunch culture.” As Levy puts it, “Girls have to be hot. Girls who aren’t hot probably need breast implants. Once a girl is hot, she should be as close to naked as possible all the time. Guys should like it. Don’t have sex.” (158). Additionally, Levy then addresses the issue of abstinence-only education and how it adds to the problem. In doing so she finally makes long-overdue connections between societal trends and larger problems that also cause and lead to “raunch” culture. These connections not only help the reader understand the complexity of the situation at hand but allow for a dialogue that doesn’t blame one group more than another. In reality we are all guilty, even Levy, of perpetuating “raunch” culture and living out the pressures that society puts on us. Our guilt manifests itself in an “us versus them” manner; either we label people as “raunchy” or not, and the not-people are usually pointing fingers and saying “how can they act this way?” This brings me to my last point.

What choices do we leave women who do not fit into our limited definition of “sexy”? Since we are a dichotomous society when it comes to sexuality, women who don’t feel like they fit in with the “girly-girls” might automatically turn to the side of sexuality associated with males (or what Levy has called the FCP). In a vain attempt to fit in women may feel like they have to be “one of the guys” and thus engage in chauvinistic behavior. In my personal experience, I have constantly felt the pressure of this separation. In certain groups I reverted to my “girl-girl” side where in other areas of my life it was more “appropriate” to act like “one of the guys.” As I move to understand my sexuality in more complex ways and experiences, I feel this wall between the two areas breaking down. This, for me, has taken self-reflection, travel, feminist literature, and a college community to which I am indebted to my privilege as a white, heterosexual, and middle-class woman.

Levy offers us good points for analysis and further discussion. However, when I put down her book I was more confused than when I started. I’m afraid I’m left with no other option but to revert to old patterns of critique: Levy left us with no viable options or alternatives to the raunch culture she so thoroughly criticized. To add to that, the vagueness of her last sentence (an attempt at a solution?), made me groan out loud:

“I think- I hope- that what has appealed to some people about the book you are holding in your hands is that it espouses something that’s fallen out of favor in this country, but is badly needed: idealism” (212).

I’m left with a head-full of social ills, with a number of people/groups to blame, and yet no viable solution. Was Levy purposefully vague? What do you think “idealism” means for Levy? What do you think are some solutions/responses to “raunch” culture that Levy doesn't address?

Third-Wave Journey: Introduction to seminar

I was once overheard talking with a friend about my upcoming Women's Study seminar. I had mentioned the titled and was interrupted with a daunting, yet inevitable question:

"Third-Wave...what's that?"

My answer was jumbled and and a little too careful. I started talking about multicultural feminisms, intersecting oppressions, a gender continuum, trans issues, international human rights, gender neutral language, etc. etc...I lost my conversation partner somewhere between eco-feminism and bell hooks.

My response above portrays well my journey and experience with the third-wave. I have been simultaneously confused and awed by the complexity of and it and by the number of issues it addreses. I have, however, in spite of my intermittent confusion, never hesitated to call myself a third-waver. Its inclusive nature and gender consciousness speaks to me on a personal level and offers a map for future activism.

I am looking forward to discussing third-wave feminism and gender in new and complex ways that help strengthen my feminist beliefs while also challenging dichotomous, heterosexist, gendered beliefs/practices still present in my life. I hope to be able to offer "expertise" in the fields of international as well as domestic human rights. I have done research on issues such as rape as a tool of war, women in U.S. politics, women in the labor movement, and I am currently working on an Independent Research project on incarcerated women in the U.S. Other courses I have taken include feminist theology, U.S social policy (with a focus on women's issues), gender and sexuality in the 20th century, Women in America, and feminist political theory.

I can't wait to be reaffirmed in my beliefs and challenged further by fellow feminists.