Babies.

12-1-07

Did you know, not every woman actually wants to have babies?

Did you know, further, that "biological clock" is not some medically confirmed thing, but a phrase that originated in the backlash period of the eighties when the media was trying to convince women that they didn't really WANT to be in the workplace, they wanted to be back home raising kids?

I'm a feminist and that's not why I don't want to have kids. In fact, I feel that as many feminists as possible should have (or adopt) kids and bring them up to respect women (and blacks and Muslims and everyone else, for that matter) and love equality and free expression. Someone needs to counteract the hundreds of kindhearted middle-of-the-road families who are still teaching their kids that you kiss a woman, but you shake hands with a man.* I know a couple of these families, and they love their kids to death and they're sweet people, but... we need to make some progress.

In any event, I've been hit with a double-whammy of mainstream heterosexual family fun these past few days: Thanksgiving dinner, and a wedding. Both were a lot of fun, with really great people. I don't really know anyone--this is my boyfriend's family, and the wedding of a friend of his from high school--but everyone has been insanely welcoming and kind and made me feel right at home.

And people keep asking us when we're going to have kids!

I can understand the people who ask us when we're going to get married. They know we love each other. They haven't heard my assorted manifestos about marriage. (In brief, 1. Marriage is not available to everyone right now and I am not interested in taking any straight privileges, specifically when I'm not even straight. 2. The government totally favors married people over unmarried, going so far as to promise unmarried poor women extra financial assistance if they find husbands--and that's creepy and wrong and we need to stop looking at married people as a privileged class. 3. The culture of marriage is still pretty sexist, and though it wouldn't be sexist at all if I did it MY way, I'd still prefer to start fresh with something free of all this sexist juju.)

But why is it when, not if, we're having kids? And why is so much more of it directed at me than at my boyfriend? It reminds me of the period before we were dating, when people would ask me if we were dating; I would say no, and they'd turn around and ask him why he hadn't asked me out yet. Like, obviously the woman is the one jonesing for the commitment. And the marriage. And the kids.

Here's the real reason I don't want to have kids: I know I wouldn't do as good a job as I'd want to. I know parents are just peopple--I know parents make mistakes and only do their bests and can never be perfect. And I know, somehow or another, I would be responsible for some gash upon the otherwise sparkling psychology of my kid, and I don't want to live with that.

They also last a really long time. Most of the people I know who are my age (23) are still living with their parents. That's a biiiig commitment.

But mainly, I can't live with bringing someone into the world and taking the responsibility of raising them and then invariably doing a whole bunch of stuff wrong. Because that's what parenthood is. It's a learning process. You have to make mistakes to learn. I don't want to make mistakes on my kid.

Plus, what if they grew up and rebelled by becoming a Republican?

However, I have never gotten to share my reason for not wanting kids. Because primarily, when people ask me When I'm having kids, and I say I don't plan to, they're not interested in why. They just inform me that I'll change my mind.

Thanks. I'm glad we're clear that you magically know what I will want in ten years, because you're a parent and you like it.

At the end of the day, I have a huge amount of respect for people who have kids. To be able to give away that much of your life to someone, 24/7, is gigantic and impressive to me. Kudos to all of you. I'll just be chilling over here with my cat and my laptop

*What gives? Women don't have the same right to personal space that men do?

Hi. My name is rorie.

My favorite color is black.

I'm a musician, writer, feminist, bisexual, vegetarian, activist. Though I'm not a huge fan of labels, I will respond favorably to any of these.

I'm into equality and I view that as a pretty big commitment. I like to buy fair trade unless it's absolutely impossible to do so (it's actually rarely impossible, believe it or not). I speak out about things that I feel are unjust and require action--loudly and often. I do my very best to support people who are being discriminated against--which is probably you, at least sometimes, unless you're a white thirtyish male with a wife and a kid and a nice job and a vague commitment to being a Protestant. Maybe even then. This world is full of weird and unpleasant stereotypes.

I'm also a really nice person. Check it out: it is possible to believe strongly in feminism and general equality, without being a scoldy feminazi bitch. Despite repeated assumptions from friends and foes alike, I will not hate you or ream you out for (A) eating meat, (B) shopping at Old Navy, or (C) taking your husband's last name. (Just don't expect me to change mine. Or get married, for that matter.)

What I will do is stand up for you if I think someone is treating you unfairly. Even if I don't like you very much. It's true: I think Phyllis Schlafly deserves equality even though she's trying her damnedest to make sure I don't have it. (I'll still make fun of her though.)

I attribute the development of a lot of my beliefs to my parents, who are awesome, accepting, kind, intelligent, and encouraging people. They taught me about equality, open-mindedness, compromise and self-sacrifice, with words and by example. My mom was the first to fly to my defense when I got a girlfriend at seventeen and accrued judgment from various family friends. My dad even likes my underarm hair. They're so cool and they have my utmost respect and love.

What else do you need to know about me? Let's see: I really like Apple computers. I make really good guacamole and black bean soup. I'm a big fan of, in no particular order, Francesca Lia Block, Fiona Apple, the band Jump Little Children, Edward Kennedy, Jon Stewart, and Drew Barrymore. I think that open dialogue about cultural and societal influences is hot, and that condemning women for shaving or not shaving their legs is not.

Oh, and you can get more me at my website, www.roriekelly.com, or my myspace, www.myspace.com/roriekelly . And if that's still not enough me for you (it's plenty for my tastes), send me an email: rorie at rorie kelly dot com.

Thanks for reading. :)

On "femming it up"...

An expression I really dislike because I object to gendered culture altogether. But for lack of a better term...

I have friends who seem to believe that the reason I don't dress "like a girl" (another phrase I object to) is because of some self-esteem problem--that I don't think I'm pretty enough to make the effort, or something.

It's so steeped in weird feminine psychology I don't even know how to respond to it. Like--it somehow makes more sense that I don't spend time painting and plucking myself and putting on less-comfortable clothes because I have LOW self-esteem, than that I simply have enough self-esteem to realize that these things are not what makes me worthwhile (or beautiful?).

Here is what it is like for me, when I get it in my head to get "girly."

It's exciting for a little while. It's exciting primarily in my own head and when I'm planning something out, and it's exciting for the same reasons it was exciting to me as a little kid: it's like a game, it's different, it's almost like Halloween where you get to slip into someone else's skin for a minute, and feel like you're not quite you. And that's fun largely because it's temporary.

But even as I'm having fun, I have a sick feeling in my stomach that I can't get rid of. The whole thing has been tainted for me because I can't help but notice that most women are not having fun like little kids--they're entering into this as a lifestyle and punishing themselves for not doing it well enough (and you can never do it well enough). I don't live inside a bubble, and my own experience is not all-consuming enough to blot out the ugliness I associate with it.

And then I go out in the world. And -- honestly, the world is already enough of a headtrip for me when I don't actively portray myself as A Woman. I already get people on the street being nice to me for seemingly no reason -- and they're all men -- and they all eventually ask for my number. And it's depressing (though I realize some women would find it validating) for this reason: they're not really being nice to me. They're picking up on me. Okay, fine, it's a free country--but why can't people just be nice? Is there anyone who's really just kind to strangers without it relating to physical attraction? Has any man really been nice to me, ever -- or is it all just that they'd be up for putting their penis inside me, if given the opportunity? And are the friendships and attachments I form really based on me, or based on some physical perception of me that allowed them to become interested? Does anyone really give a damn about understanding me? This is a question I've been pondering since I was twelve or thirteen--and every time I wear lipstick, I get more depressed about the probable conclusion.

Men are very friendly until I make it clear that I'm not interested in their advances. Then they become that creepy-pushy kind of friendly. Leading questions: "Oh, you've got to go--where to? Your boyfriend's house?" (Note to Most Men: Even if it turns out I don't have a boyfriend, that does not mean sex is on.) Demands for an explanation: You don't want to give me your number/call me sometime/go out later--why not? What's the problem? Some men even push a number on me and later see me on the street and demand to know why I haven't called them. It's not just me: I see it happen to other women, all the time, and I see the same look on other women's faces that must cross mine: like "I really don't want to upset this person, but I don't know how to make him leave me alone."

Women and men both see me dressed this way and seem to want to congratulate me on "getting with it." "Oh, you can be so pretty, you should do this all the time." Women want to talk shop and I absolutely don't know how to respond to it. They tell me about shoe sales and makeup and that kind of stuff -- but mostly, they talk about finding clothing that "hides sins" and about how much weight they need to lose. (By the way, after extensive conversations with various women: the amount of weight a woman thinks she needs to lose is, almost invariably, "a lot." But sometimes they'd settle for ten or fifteen pounds.) I don't know how to respond. If anyone were saying it ABOUT a woman I'd get angry at that person and tell them that that woman looked exactly how she was supposed to look, and that if every single woman feels she needs to go on a diet, obviously the beauty standard is irrelevant to what is physically normal or healthy. When a woman says it about herself--what can you say? It would be horrible to express anger at them--it's not their fault they've learned to think this way. And they've heard "you're beautiful the way you are," before from their mothers, boyfriends, and other women, and they've learned to process it as patronizing, or "white lie" kindness and dismiss it. Still, there's nothing I want to do less than let the moment go by and allow them to think for a fraction of a second that I agree with any of it: with them needing to lose weight, with any woman needing to lose weight to feel beautiful, with viewing the way your body naturally occurs as "sinful." For Pete's sake.

Relatedly, I've realized I have a hard time expressing myself as a sexual being in social situations. You know what I'm talking about -- not anything inappropriate, but just conveying yourself in a sort of way that acknowledges your sexuality. All my life I've been told that I come off as somewhat asexual and I've always been totally surprised to hear it. I'm a very sexual person. I'm not just a very sexual person, but you could say that I've actively developed my sexuality -- I have spent a lot of time thinking about what sexuality means to me, where my particular sexual psychology comes from, whether that's all healthy or not and whether that matters, in the long run. If I didn't have my big flaming passion for music, I would want to go back to school with a goal of working in sex therapy and education.

But apparently, I don't come off as a sexual being. I wonder how much of this is related to the fact that I don't tend to portray myself as feminine terribly often--I enjoy skirts and low-cut shirts and stuff like that, but due to all the reasons listed in the paragraphs above, I really have a hard time wearing them too often. Does not dressing that way somehow mean I am asexual? I don't necessarily think that displaying my breasts to my advantage is a reflection of my sexuality at all--it CAN be a sexual move, but I think most women would agree it can just as easily be about, "Hey, I look good in this, awesome." If I wear flannel and t-shirts and jeans and cords, does that somehow negate my sexuality? If so, what does that mean -- that women express their sexuality not by feeling sexual, but by dressing in such a way as to inspire sexual feelings in others?

And there's the crux of it right there. Women's sexuality is misportrayed and misconceived. People see "female sexuality" where I see "women doing things that generally turn men on." I've met men who claim that they're very evolved in their views of sexuality and that they view female sexuality as totally natural and important and as something women should be able to express freely. But the more they talk about it, the more I realize that they see "female sexuality" only insofar as it does anything for them. They applaud "female sexuality" when it takes the form of a woman dressing provocatively, displaying her body exhibitionist-style, giving them a blowjob. They don't seem to really notice what I see as real female sexuality--those things that make a woman feel sexy, allow a woman to enjoy her body, lead to a woman pursuing and experiencing sexual gratification.

No, not everyone thinks this way -- I certainly don't, and neither do the people I choose to surround myself with. But there's also no getting away from it, and it is the type of thought processes I see from a majority of people I meet in social situations. And as long as it is, to be honest with you--I don't want to get involved in it. I would rather hang back and let people misconstrue me as asexual, forego wearing dresses and makeup and jewelry sometimes, than allow people to think I was playing into their messed up little worldview. I'm not willing to be a part of it, and sometimes I need to broadcast that loud and clear.

Bisexuality is my Anti-Bridge
by rorie kelly

I had this idea once that bisexual people could be a bridge between straight and gay people. This is, in theory, a sound idea. Two (not that different, but) divided cultures brought together by the people who shared both. Apparently this was pretty silly of me. I should have realized this right off, given the less-than-stellar treatment our society gives to mulattoes. (Is that word still PC? Assortedly-ethnic individuals? I don't know.)

Can I start out by stating the obvious? Creating this huge imaginary culture divide is a big part of the problem. The word "lifestyle" is part of the problem. I've met lots of gay people (like my ex-girlfriend, for example) and haven't found their Lifestyles to vary at all from that of the largely straight group of people I grew up with. My ex-girlfriend was different from straight people primarily because she had sex with another woman. (Hey, me too.) Otherwise, she had a regular 9 to 5 job, drove a car to it in the morning, and spent her extra money and free time on things like music and movies. My ex-girlfriend had possibly a more "normal" lifestyle than any straight person I know.

By creating this theoretically politically correct term--"alternative lifestyle"--I believe that we have alienated our respective cultures from each other even more. In fact, since clearly the only actual difference in our lifestyles is who we have sex with, I believe that the word "lifestyle" was chosen in large part to sidestep that one nasty little topic we can't seem to stand speaking openly about--sex. It's a way to cover up the actual difference between gay and straight people--sex, relationships--with a false (and possibly more damaging) difference--Lifestyle. Sorry, I can't get with it.

But anyway: it is what it is, and it seems that both gay and straight people buy into it to some degree, and it leaves me, shall we say, lifestyle-less. I met a very nice sound-woman once, playing at an LGBT community event, and she complimented me on my music when I was done and asked me incidentally whether I was gay or straight. "Neither," I told her, "I'm bi." We went on to talk about music for a while and during the course of our conversation she advised me, in order to be successful, to play to the straight scene rather than the gay scene.

She was totally trying to be helpful and I appreciated it (as well as how nice she was--she gave me a few very helpful suggestions about marketing my music). But on another level, I was kind of annoyed. Where was my damn scene? I told her (nicely) that I didn't really think of it that way, and that I pretty much played wherever they would have me: at LGBT events, at bars, at coffeehouses, whatever.

Less pleasantly, I've had lesbians tell me, essentially, that I shouldn't be showing my face at Pride events because I'm only going to "confuse the girls" all decked out in rainbows. My ex-favorite columnist, Dan Savage, announced to the nation in his otherwise awesome-and-informative column Savage Love that bisexuals were "mostly straight." And the "straight community" (in quotes because in my opinion, when you're the privileged majority, you don't get a "community") dismisses bisexuality as "kinky." A survey I read in my sister's copy of Cosmopolitan the other day listed "kissing another woman" and "having sex with another woman" as a "Walk on the Wild Side." It was right next to "Being Tied Up," "Tying Up Your Man," and "Getting Spanked." (Tellingly, there was a "Getting Spanked," but there was no "Spanking Your Man.") Let me edify you, dear readers, about the difference between a bisexual woman and a straight woman. A straight woman likes sleeping with men and sometimes will make out with other women under the influence of alcohol, and/or--you guessed it--men egging her on. A bisexual woman likes sleeping with men and with women, and generally makes out with other women because she wants to, not to appear hot and kinky to her boyfriend in a bar.

So where is my community? It doesn't seem to be at Pride events (though I continue to attend them, and proudly, because dammit, I'm in the acronym) and it certainly isn't at a bar where the straight girl next to me is feeling up another straight girl for the benefit of four hooting men and their camera phones. If my options are to be the odd one out, or to... be the odd one out... then being a cultural bridge is kind of tricky.

Nonetheless, it's something I'd like to aspire to. When I'm getting into bed, daydreaming and sleepily hopeful about the future, and I feel like optimism makes sense.

Losing the Weight
by rorie kelly

So I'm flying on an airplane to Fort Lauderdale right now, for Thanksgiving. I happen to think that writing a blog while flying is like, one of the coolest things a writer can possibly do. I don't know why. But it makes me feel good.

And I was all set to write something about HPV and women's sexual health, and then the flight attendant came by and asked what we would like to drink.

Woman on the aisle: "Coke."

"Coke? Okay."

Man next to me: "Coke."

"Coke. And you?"

Me: "Coke." (That was easy.)

"...Regular coke?"

...

"Yes."

Now: If I were my mom, or various other women, my instinctive reaction to this exchange would be to feel self-conscious. "Are you calling me fat? Are you saying I should drink Diet Coke because I'm fat?"*

Me: I know I'm pretty skinny, and I guess the flight attendant just looked at me and kind of assumed that I would want a diet coke, as, you know, upkeep. And I can't decide whether to be miffed or not. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it.

I don't particularly view my skinniness as this triumphant thing; it just kind of happened that way. I'm one of those silly people who likes women who look like women (you know, boobs, hips, tummy?), and I think it would be cool if I were more Curvy. (And apparently, then my nonexistent kids would be smarter, too.) But anyway, I'm kind of not (curvy), and I get what I think are compliments about it from time to time. "Oh, look at you, you don't need to go to the gym." That sort of thing.

Always from women and never from men. I get hit on by men occasionally and they'll compliment me on my smile, or say something general like "You're beautiful," or something. Women are the ones who zone in on my weight. And, I guess, who can blame them? I did a quick survey of the women's magazines at the check-out counter the other day and I swear, a third of the headlines were about losing weight. And it's often a false positive -- "lose weight, feel great," that kind of thing. This is totally not to devalue the struggle of those who genuinely have an issue with weight gain and are struggling with it for health reasons. That's a legitimate, important goal and I wish you luck and applaud you for taking charge of your health. I'm also not trying to give a hard time to those who want to lose weight because they struggle with body image--on the contrary, I'm totally on your side because the illogical "Thin is Beautiful" mindset that pervades our culture is what's giving you body image issues to begin with.

"Lose weight, feel great"? I have to say, I have yet to meet a woman who feels great about her weight. I've met a few who feel A-okay; I've met others who feel marginally bad but don't cave to it-- but great? Great is a stretch. I don't think we're likely to see that many Great Feeling women until we stop celebrating totally unreasonable ideals. Especially when we see the same woman praised for her figure on one page of a magazine, and scolded for wearing an outfit that isn't "slimming" on the next. The message is clear: no matter how much weight you lose, no matter how hard you try, you're always going to have a reason to feel bad about yourself. (And since you're feeling bad about yourself, why don't you go on this new diet and blow a hundred bucks on the newest fashions in Slimmingwear?)

It's overall a gross culture, and a sexist culture, although we now have the questionable progress of men's magazines showing up to tell men how to dress, what to buy, what to like, and in general how to Be a Man. And we're starting to gleefully objectify men too, with magazine features like "Shirtless Guy of the Month"--and really, if everyone's objectifying everyone, is it still sexist? I say yes, because most of the objectification plays right into creepy oldschool gender roles--beautiful blank-faced little-girl women who need big strong men to protect them; big strong men with a Man-flavored sensitive side (nice eyes, no crying, stoic sherif-like sense of Right and Wrong) who are muscley and musky in order to better protect helpless little women. Here's a little shout out to Men in General: I know y'all have as many sucky gender-related head trips as women do, and that the problem is compounded by the fact that you're not supposed to have feelings or want to Talk About It. I'm really sorry about that and I hope we all come out of it someday.

Speaking of which... How do we go about coming out of it?

It took me a few months to successfully finish Susan Faludi's Backlash because I kept getting so depressed by it that I had to stop and read something fluffy and pleasant before I could go back. But the end was pretty hopeful and spirited. It generally presented the idea that we could get past our still-sexist culture if we (everyone, not just women) worked hard and were attentive and spoke out openly when we saw injustice start to creep in. It felt good to read, especially after being horrified by the stuff the rest of the book was reporting on. But that book was published, what--seventeen years ago? Where are we now, in relation to the eighties? Better, worse? I'm genuinely asking here--I don't know how to begin to gauge it.

I do have some small ideas about moving forward though.

I think maybe we have to start by acknowledging our personal experiences as being valid again. Remember "The Personal is Political"? It still is--but we need to remind ourselves that "personal" includes each of us, as individuals. It includes tending to our own individual damaged senses of self in real, lasting ways. It includes comforting ourselves and allowing ourselves to be comforted. It includes allowing ourselves the opportunity to grieve the loss of the natural confidence and curiousity we had about the world as children, before we started to feel bad about ourselves. And it includes then examining what steps we can take, in our own lives, to stop feeling bad about ourselves and start feeling and acting like free agents again. And, of course, it includes being sympathetic and kind enough to give everyone else space to do the same, in their own way.

And something else--something about public awareness. Someone has to stop magazines and TV and movies from telling us how to feel about ourselves. That seems like a huge mountain right now and I don't know, honestly, how we will surmount it. But maybe it's something that will come to us as we go through it--as we open our eyes our minds and begin discussing this stuff honestly, with ourselves and others. As we begin addressing deviations with kindness rather than criticism.

Maybe.

*(I love you, Mom. I think you're beautiful. I'm not calling you fat by using you as an example here.)