
Society is Sick: Gender and Feminine Spaces
I read a very well-written piece about a woman’s criticism of the men in her life who suggested she read David Foster Wallace. I really don’t know Wallace’s work or who this woman is but her piece is so flavorful and sharp that I see in her an ability to actually write from head to heart. What struck me though was her opening paragraph where she describes that a guy she dated forced cocaine into her while having sex. In the vein of HBO’s “Girls,” I think this type of writing is fun and borderless, which makes it exciting. I also think it diminished her overall message. She went on to lament the white, rich, heteronormative patriarchy (preach!), but her disproval seemed to only be contained to the pages of her article; that she might not have a stronger in real-life stance other than to collect data, take it home and thread it into an eloquent article. She made me believe that the most crucial point of the essay was to deride this specific population’s taste and ability to market their favorite literature to the wrong audience — she believed that white dudes were pushing Wallace onto people who don’t identify with the voice or experience of the writer, in a way that a young white dude might not resonate with Toni Morrison — not me, though.
However, this argument that she makes only deepens the issues. There is a point to be made in her article. She talks about how men are always shocked when she hasn’t read David Foster Wallace but women aren’t equally appalled when men haven’t read Toni Morrison. For the record, my two favorite authors are Toni Morrison and Virginia Woolf, so despite gender assigned at birth, my tastes seem to fall on the stereotypical feminine side — I’m also gay, I assume that matters. So, I’m with her, but she, like many feminists, miss the point. At some point we were convinced that standing against something was the same as standing for something.
This is what I ask of her and all feminine — not just female — readers. Be womanly about what you stand for. Do not debase yourself by posing anything to the contrary of man. Assume your primal role as protector to the vulnerable, creator of life, feeler of subtleties. Take what’s happened to you and ravage the wild world with the call of your heart and disregard the brigade against manliness. Be so undeniably woman in your expression that a place does not need to be made for you because your space is divinely placed anywhere you are. Be Madonna about it. Be Mae West about it. Be Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey and Harriet Tubman about your business. It’s more difficult, of course, because the path is not fully hewed. There are still branches to clear, leaves to sweep away, stones to lay across the rushing river of privilege, but make no mistake, the divine feminine has crossed it and in your ability to surmount the crushing weight of masculinity, does your femininity penetrate.
Feminine is not the opposite of masculine, it’s the morphed version of an expression, a natural instinct to try another way, to do it differently, to wait and observe then strike, and do what has never been done. Do not seek freedom from an oppressor who has lost the keys and cannot see the bars. With your instincts, wield the keys and share them wisely. We need women to have the courage to be women again. Sissy boys to be sissy. Butch ladies to rock the butch. And we also need men to have the courage to be men. And only when this happens, are the territories so clearly drawn that the spaces in between become a sanctuary for folks like me who fall somewhere comfortably across the terrain.
