I can't really think of a title for this post, hence my using the title of the song that I'm listening to RIGHT NOW. It's quite an apt song though, as part of the chorus lyrics are: ' Every little earthquake/Every little heartbreak, going unheard/Every little landslide/Catch it in my hand, I won't say a word.' I feel like this MA year, I have just been sort of burnt-out and struggling greatly to manage any sort of original/independent thought.
Yet - o cruel irony! - I recently realised that I would actually quite like to become an English lecturer. Don't confuse that with 'feel I have the right to' or 'have absolutely decided to.' I need regular routine - going out of it seems to annihilate me. Despite it being a full 12 days since I handed in the two final MA essays remaining, I have struggled to get through The Discovery of India. There is an utter failure of time management happening. Ideally, I should be sailing through, pursuing the stacks of secondary reading that have waited patiently on my desk for two months. Yet spreading through the heart of everything like a stain, is fear. Fear has destroyed me for the last three weeks or so. Where am I going wrong in building friendships? What are my career prospects? Do I have any real skills?
I never thought I would write the following, but worrying about my professional future has kept me awake at night for quite a few nights recently. The sleep deprivation hastens the spread of the stain. Seeping through everything, is the incessant chorus of questions: where is the meat of my dissertation? When will that quiet faith that my supervisor has in me, apparently unshakeable, be realised?
I need to leave my parents' home, and yet historically this is a terrible time for people in my position. Young people like myself, jobless, nearing the end of full-time education with looming icebergs of debt that would freeze anyone to the core... This only reinforces all the oldest and most noxious fears that overwhelm and engulf, like carbon monoxide, until nothing else remains. The fears of failing, of proving them right - that would make me lose a lot, maybe even all, faith in the world. It's very hard to maintain hope and remain poised when you live a concealed life, frequently fearing personal attacks from your family. When they all form a consensus and you disagree, guess who's paying? Less than an hour ago, yet another moment which should have been trivial snowballed into farce. I feel that perhaps I need to stop responding to anything but the simplest of questions.
Foolishly, I voiced my objections to being repeatedly sworn at yesterday by my brother for having the temerity to - wait for it - be in the same room as him whilst he played Nintendo Wii! As far as I could tell, he wanted my seat (swivel chair) rather than the stool he was on. For that, he thrust his middle finger in my face, called me a bitch, told me 'get the fuck out' and similar, and feigned hitting me with his controller repeatedly.
Am I wrong to be upset about that? If I had been rude to him when I came in, it might perhaps have been warranted. I'm sure I told him to shut up, or get lost, and probably swore too, in response. My tone with him is automatically sharp - the product of my second-eldest sister's influence and the long and bitter history I have with him. Yet I think I had a right to be upset at being sworn at repeatedly for no apparent reason. He swore at me again today when I mentioned that I wanted to watch something at 9 p.m., 20 minutes beforehand. Hence my complaining to my mother. She was utterly shit as usual, making the usual empty promises ' 'When he's finished his exams, I won't take anything from him.' Right, great for you, mum - how does that make any difference to now? I got rather irritated at her, and also asked her not to embroil me in any further 'situations' with my father, something she's done a lot recently. Since I am studying Indian nationalism to some extent (Gandhi and Nehru), I am reading nationalist writings and my parents (my dad in particular) seem to feel the need to tell me what to think. I don't take very well to that, especially since I have read the very words of the people they claim to know better about. Unfortunately my parents, my dad especially, don't really do 'listening' or 'calm, rational engagement.' Yesterday I was dismissed as having 'fixed views' for having pointed out that there is no evidence to support certain conspiracy theories about 1984. The sheer fucking irony, the injustice of it, stung me. I could not stop myself muttering 'Fixed opinions, me? That's rich!' though I luckily wasn't heard as my dad continued in his burst of self-important defensiveness, just like a spoilt child.
Both my father and brother are spoilt children, and my mother simply encourages it (like so many Indian women!). Having drawn the parallel angrily, I refused to say anything more and retreated upstairs, coming down for the +1hr repeat. Good fucking God, halfway through I heard my mother and brother discussing me during an ad break. I burst into the kitchen as my brother reiterated a belief he has embraced (with 0 evidence) that I have somehow destroyed the family Internet. As usual, I wasn't being listened to and I returned to my programme. I hoped it was going to end there, only to receive, 10 minutes from the end, a deputation consisting of my brother working his best 'I'm contrite, me' face and my eldest sister radiating such a powerful wave of patronising pomposity, it was all I could do to keep my eyebrows under control.
Despite my making it clear in a variety of ways that I found the proceedings utterly contemptible, my sister was not to be deterred. I had to succumb, but there was a feeling of desperation of me, which came out both verbally and non-verbally. What exactly did they want from me? The black humorist within wryly noted the mounting, ill-concealed aggression in my sister's voice as she kept telling me that my brother was sorry and that it took genuine guts to come and apologise. 'Such guts that you had to lead him here like a cow on a lead?' I thought, but didn't say. My brother's not-so-concealed aggression also increased as I failed to be a good little girl and take my cues. I had no fucking idea what I was supposed to be doing, or what exactly they wanted from me, as the issue I was directly addressing - the Internet - was apparently not the issue at hand.
Having achieved the objective (which it would seem was wrenching the all-important acknowledgement of my brother's apology from me and making me feel like I was the one in the wrong), my brother mawkishly pronounced that 'I'm prepared to be your brother if you act like my sister.' Yet the mawkishness was tempered by the hint of something vastly more sinister - what the fuck does he mean by that? That I should act more like a regular girl (i.e. my mother and to some extent, my sisters) by treating him like the centre of the universe? He also swiftly regained his composure by admonishing me for talking about 'family issues' to my friends. He claimed that he didn't care if I talked about him to my friends, but that he kept family things within the family. This was of course a most inviting bandwagon for my sister to jump on - and she did. I said that of course I was going to talk about things that concerned me to my friends, and I didn't see why I shouldn't. The fact that I didn't see the problem with that was apparently indicative of my own problems (or somesuch), she claimed. Horror swam freely through me at this point; I provided whatever acquiescence was required of me, sat rigid as she kissed me and unwillingly kissed her cheek. I then feigned desperation to watch the rest of my programme, but the horror was rife in me.
Now, tone is everything. Had they asked me to refrain from badmouthing them to my friends, I might've reacted better. Yet the way they exchanged glances, the way they talked about 'keeping it in the family,' - 'They are outsiders and they will never be your family,' and the neat détournement of my contention that I have a right to talk about my own life to my friends - all that fills me with horror. Because (bad grammar!) it is not about them fearing for their reputations - it is about control. That refrain is an eternal one, one that I have heard ever since I became a 'problem.' Another sinister remark: when I declared that my brother's assertion that I somehow broke our Internet was not based on any sort of evidence, you know what my sister said? She looked at me and said 'What is this, a court? Listen to you - 'facts' and 'evidence'. You sound like a gori!' My brother, alert to the dog-whistle, then seized the opportune moment and furthered the charge of treason by mentioning that I speak to 'outsiders'.
It just all left me appalled. My sister's tone was oh-so-reasonable, as if we live in the sort of parallel household where I can actually assert my opinions and be listened to, and dissent can be organically resolved. Bullshit - bullshit was what it all was. I had at no point asked for an apology, much less an apology for the sake of an appearance of domestic peace; what I wanted was for my parents to DO THEIR FUCKING JOB and make my brother query whether it is normal to become so aggressive whilst playing Mario Kart, and whether it is acceptable to use that language full stop, let alone with your older sister. When the horror permeated through me, however, I felt a re-emergence of one of my few 'good' fears. This particular fear urges me to do what I can to stop myself being subsumed and taken over, to protect my awkward and inconvenient views in whatever manner possible. I knew then that I would have to write about this, and I know I have to write much more about these things, because people for the most part cannot and will not, give me succour.
Showing posts with label anti-intellectualism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anti-intellectualism. Show all posts
Monday, May 17, 2010
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Feminism Wept...
Oh my God.
Let me announce this, here and now. I meant to earlier, but it just kept getting lost in the tiny cracks of exhaustion emerging between exams and school, travel and revision.
Whilst preparing an oral presentation in French ('How to reconcile feminism and Islam in France?' Only, in French, naturellement.), it hit me that feminists, like Muslims, have to keep putting up with vicious and untrue attacks on our public image. Like Muslims, we face constant attack by unimaginative and self-serving opponents who would like to blame us for everything-they-possibly-can that is wrong with society today. EXAMPLE. All the different strands of feminism are handily grouped and dismissed, which allows for a very effective form of 'divide and conquer,' whereby feminists such as myself have to say that we're not in agreement with those who really do seem to hate men, and assumptions are made about our sexuality.
A lot of modern feminists find themselves in the position of having to distance themselves from second-wave feminism, because of the prominence and influence of lesbian feminism within it. Feminist-haters continually highlight the misandry that SOME (SOME, not ALL) lesbian and/or radical feminists have shown, using it as a way to shout down the many valid criticisms they make. In fact, they use that as a way to shout down almost any form of feminist critique that doesn't bend over backwards to please them (see most articles even vaguely pertaining to feminism on Cif...). Divide and conquer. It is divide and conquer. They turn on individuals en masse, conveniently displaying the very mob mentality that they ascribe to those same individuals. Those individuals find themselves stuck, or should I say: WE are stuck. We can't acknowledge the huge ideological debt that we owe to second-wave feminism. Like Muslims constantly being harassed as terrorists, we must distance ourselves and say 'Not in our name,' as if it is completely removed from us.
Yet as any fule kno, radical voices are useful and important (as long as they're not generating immediate danger, of course). They stand to inform us both of what we could have, and in the case of more conservative voices, what we could lose, if we remain idle. Let me just say that I am not trying to establish some sort of suffering equivalence with Muslims here. I am so NOT A FAN of the Oppression Olympics. All I am doing is drawing a parallel, one which is in some ways heavily ironic.
It must be said that the public image of feminism certainly isn't done any favours when people who claim to strongly identify with it promote exactly the kind of cartoonish stereotypes that fem-haters love and lap up. Here I must cease, and present you with this. Julie Bindel and Julie Burchill interviewing each other.
It is ghastly. It is so, utterly, ghastly. Yet it's also very clever, because ultimately neither of them gives away anything new in the least about themselves. Burchill's reputation as a giggling, bandwagon-jumping delusionary is confirmed, and Bindel once again comes across as the stereotypical lesbo-misandrist automaton.
Feminism wept. Feminism wept. There is a certain hollowly-humorous irony in Bindel saying:
after Burchill saying:
This too after Burchill cheerfully hypocritises (neologism alert!) her self-ascribed epithet of 'militant feminist' by saying:
and
I'm sorry. What the FUUUUUUUCK are you talking about, you stupid bitch? She basically DID just confirm what Bindel said - that men are 'emotional cripples,' because they don't overshare like those annoying women - and then implied that that is how men should be.
Great, Burchill, you stupid fucking bitch. So, a kid who is being bullied should just 'take his lumps,' should he? The likes of you should be spared 'every last thing someone is feeling,' until they walk into a school and massacre a load of people in one go?
As for the men beating up rapists comment - I must reiterate my expletive-garnished question above. The justice system is supposed to deal with individuals, Burch. It's not the job of mobs, or single persons to decide what happens to criminals. Jesus wept, this time.
It is ironic though, this woman is a shamelessly Freudian stereotype herself. 'All men should be like my dad'? Bet you wish you could've married him!
I have revised my opinion on the Grauniad's decision here. I now think it was absolute genius. You have *ahem* an intelligent and dedicated campaigner who generally poses as 'professional lesbian' (I hope she's not really as virulently anti-men as she makes out...) alongside a showy and inexplicably well-paid professional contrarian (not a very good one, either). The latter indulges in a frankly breathtaking display of female misogyny, showing the very real need for conventional assumptions of gender ('masculinity' and 'femininity') to be challenged. The former, perhaps because of her own transphobia and misandry, smiles and lets it pass. Oh, the female friendship! Oh, the uniting nature of the sisterhood!
Truly, feminism wept. I leave you with this thread I found, discussing Bindel's transphobia, which is really interesting. Look out for the post by 'Forced Buy' - in fact, if you ignore all the rest, at the very least read that. It's really insightful, and Burchill enters the equation once again!
This interview with Susie Orbach, feminist author and Dolly Draper's mentor, is also good reading. Also: a thread about whether make-up is acceptable or not. P.S.: My heart bleeds for Kater Andron. It really does, but... I just can't force those tears out. It's sort of like when you want to take a shit, but you can't.
(Given that the 'article' is called 'Julie Bindel talks to fellow feminist Julie Burchill,' I'm starting to wonder if the Guardian, a paper that SHOULD be feminists' friend, doesn't have it in for us too...)
Let me announce this, here and now. I meant to earlier, but it just kept getting lost in the tiny cracks of exhaustion emerging between exams and school, travel and revision.
Whilst preparing an oral presentation in French ('How to reconcile feminism and Islam in France?' Only, in French, naturellement.), it hit me that feminists, like Muslims, have to keep putting up with vicious and untrue attacks on our public image. Like Muslims, we face constant attack by unimaginative and self-serving opponents who would like to blame us for everything-they-possibly-can that is wrong with society today. EXAMPLE. All the different strands of feminism are handily grouped and dismissed, which allows for a very effective form of 'divide and conquer,' whereby feminists such as myself have to say that we're not in agreement with those who really do seem to hate men, and assumptions are made about our sexuality.
A lot of modern feminists find themselves in the position of having to distance themselves from second-wave feminism, because of the prominence and influence of lesbian feminism within it. Feminist-haters continually highlight the misandry that SOME (SOME, not ALL) lesbian and/or radical feminists have shown, using it as a way to shout down the many valid criticisms they make. In fact, they use that as a way to shout down almost any form of feminist critique that doesn't bend over backwards to please them (see most articles even vaguely pertaining to feminism on Cif...). Divide and conquer. It is divide and conquer. They turn on individuals en masse, conveniently displaying the very mob mentality that they ascribe to those same individuals. Those individuals find themselves stuck, or should I say: WE are stuck. We can't acknowledge the huge ideological debt that we owe to second-wave feminism. Like Muslims constantly being harassed as terrorists, we must distance ourselves and say 'Not in our name,' as if it is completely removed from us.
Yet as any fule kno, radical voices are useful and important (as long as they're not generating immediate danger, of course). They stand to inform us both of what we could have, and in the case of more conservative voices, what we could lose, if we remain idle. Let me just say that I am not trying to establish some sort of suffering equivalence with Muslims here. I am so NOT A FAN of the Oppression Olympics. All I am doing is drawing a parallel, one which is in some ways heavily ironic.
It must be said that the public image of feminism certainly isn't done any favours when people who claim to strongly identify with it promote exactly the kind of cartoonish stereotypes that fem-haters love and lap up. Here I must cease, and present you with this. Julie Bindel and Julie Burchill interviewing each other.
It is ghastly. It is so, utterly, ghastly. Yet it's also very clever, because ultimately neither of them gives away anything new in the least about themselves. Burchill's reputation as a giggling, bandwagon-jumping delusionary is confirmed, and Bindel once again comes across as the stereotypical lesbo-misandrist automaton.
Feminism wept. Feminism wept. There is a certain hollowly-humorous irony in Bindel saying:
I much prefer women to men. A lot of them are emotional cripples. Have you not found that? Are we such different feminists do you think?
after Burchill saying:
But part of what makes a man a man is that he never takes offence! When you see sad-sacks like, what was his name, Neil something [Lyndon, author of No More Sex War: the Failures of Feminism]. "Men's Lib" - that's the opposite of a man, to me. Just shut up and take your lumps. And then we can all have a laugh.
It's so lovely that even in prison, men who aren't touchy-feely have to be stopped from beating up rapists - not just child molesters, but rapists of grown women.
This too after Burchill cheerfully hypocritises (neologism alert!) her self-ascribed epithet of 'militant feminist' by saying:
I like men and get on much better with them one to one than I do women, who can be a bit emotional.
and
I don't want to hear about every last thing someone is feeling. I think most men have it about right. All men should be like my dad!
I'm sorry. What the FUUUUUUUCK are you talking about, you stupid bitch? She basically DID just confirm what Bindel said - that men are 'emotional cripples,' because they don't overshare like those annoying women - and then implied that that is how men should be.
Great, Burchill, you stupid fucking bitch. So, a kid who is being bullied should just 'take his lumps,' should he? The likes of you should be spared 'every last thing someone is feeling,' until they walk into a school and massacre a load of people in one go?
As for the men beating up rapists comment - I must reiterate my expletive-garnished question above. The justice system is supposed to deal with individuals, Burch. It's not the job of mobs, or single persons to decide what happens to criminals. Jesus wept, this time.
It is ironic though, this woman is a shamelessly Freudian stereotype herself. 'All men should be like my dad'? Bet you wish you could've married him!
I have revised my opinion on the Grauniad's decision here. I now think it was absolute genius. You have *ahem* an intelligent and dedicated campaigner who generally poses as 'professional lesbian' (I hope she's not really as virulently anti-men as she makes out...) alongside a showy and inexplicably well-paid professional contrarian (not a very good one, either). The latter indulges in a frankly breathtaking display of female misogyny, showing the very real need for conventional assumptions of gender ('masculinity' and 'femininity') to be challenged. The former, perhaps because of her own transphobia and misandry, smiles and lets it pass. Oh, the female friendship! Oh, the uniting nature of the sisterhood!
Truly, feminism wept. I leave you with this thread I found, discussing Bindel's transphobia, which is really interesting. Look out for the post by 'Forced Buy' - in fact, if you ignore all the rest, at the very least read that. It's really insightful, and Burchill enters the equation once again!
This interview with Susie Orbach, feminist author and Dolly Draper's mentor, is also good reading. Also: a thread about whether make-up is acceptable or not. P.S.: My heart bleeds for Kater Andron. It really does, but... I just can't force those tears out. It's sort of like when you want to take a shit, but you can't.
(Given that the 'article' is called 'Julie Bindel talks to fellow feminist Julie Burchill,' I'm starting to wonder if the Guardian, a paper that SHOULD be feminists' friend, doesn't have it in for us too...)
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Down With Anti-Intellectualism!
Down with anti-intellectualism! Down with anti-intellectualism! I have been reading some things online which have moved me to issue this war-cry.
We live in an age of MASS INFORMATION, I think you will agree. The Internet is a waterfall of differing accounts, of video and audio clips, blog posts and news articles. Waterfalls enrich and keep the supply of water coming steadily. However, if they flood, there will be deaths by drowning as the water overcomes all.
Now my alarmist metaphor might be a touch, well, alarmist, but the point stands. The Internet is a huge and wonderful thing. Some people don't like the notion that putting your data out there into cyberspace might mean that you never get it back, but life is full of risks and gambles, and for what you get in return, it is a glorious system.
The problem then, lies not with the Internet, but with us. Fucking lazy-ass humanity. We are an ineffectual lot, aren't we? We want to leap straight to the end-product of everything without making the journey. Did nobody ever tell us that it's not the winning but the participation that counts? Evidently not, and that is why we idolise Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal - we like the notion of a string of successive victories. We don't like to think about the work that goes into producing those victories and the long hard slog that results in a brief shining moment of sporting history at Wimbledon. Between the titles, a person's life is lived in single-minded devotion to training and fitness, a special diet and upon hearing that, we recoil in horror. It doesn't fit with the glamour of the brief shining moment.
To return to the Internet though - we fail to do it justice. We do not look upon it as a tumbling stream of water which could be combed into little rivulets to make it more comprehensible. Instead, we see a river bursting its banks and run, panicking, towards the opinion-ghettoes of the blogosphere or tabloid papers' websites, hiding out among those who share our views, be they justified, informed, articulate or not.
And Jesus fuckin' H. Christ, if you're looking at the Mail website or similar (which I categorically refuse to link to), it's a depressing sight. Don't be fooled - the Guardian's Comment Is Free is similarly packed to the cyber-rafters with morons, tunnel-visionaries and smart-arses. Trollish figures turn up everywhere, desecrating all our pathetic notions of humans as 'superior animals.' On the Web, it would seem, Darwin's rules don't apply. It's not survival of the fittest, it's survival of the stupidest.
Now, I know that people will be inclined towards sites that express their own views - that's perfectly natural. It is honestly sad though, to see how commentators pop up on Pickled Politics, for example, with the sole purpose of trying to be the sole right-wing maverick or whatever (I'm looking at you, Ashik!) and the numbskulls inhabiting the comments box on Guido Fawkes' blog are legendary among those with even a cursory awareness of the UK political blogosphere (that bloody word again!).
It is not about debate, it is not about legitimate criticism or disagreement, but about pathetic self-affirmation at the expense of others: I R A REBEL WOZ ERE, pretty much. Then you have Liberal Conspiracy, where the debates can descend into the most minutely finicky semantic wrestling, essentially to the point where people might as well be saying: 'You said X' and are responded to thus 'No, I said Y! YOU think I said X because that's what YOU think is right, but I think Y is right and I KNOW I'm right anyway'.
Let us move beyond words for a minute, I'm asking you. Let's break this fucking Great British tendency to complain and sound off about things, especially when we know next to nothing about them, because that's what is expected of us. The Web is a giant, giant place. Crawl out from under your tiny, little rock and actually open your eyes a little. Read articles - actually read them. Then try forming some thoughts.
I often castigate myself in the presence of people who write for a living, such as at yesterday's PP meet-up, because I can't always express myself particularly well. In fact, I'm even worse in person than in writing or print, or whatever. My tongue quivers hesitantly at the back of my throat as my brain swells dangerously, like a hen about to produce an egg. No egg is produced however - instead I get lots of strands that explode messily out, out of my mouth. Yet I do not feel shame about this. Why should I?
I talk to other people and I try to make sense of myself in the process, and that is what life should be about. Society is not something we can make disappear as if by magic, so trying to actually interact with it and the world around us might help. I am proud at the very least that I listen and take things in and try to collate grand ideas in my tiny little head. So many of us when we're forced to 'grow up' have moments where we extol the virtues of childhood. Conservatives in particular often seem to be the sort of people who wish they could 'go back' to that time (and I don't mean that in any good way whatsoever), whereas far-leftists often come off like that sulky, cynical smartarse in your sixth-form that everyone fancies for two years and then when you start uni you realise he was a total ass.
Yet it doesn't have to be so painful, it doesn't have to be all about loss. Just like the Internet should not be a series of adjacent ghettoes. It's called the fucking World Wide Web after all - a web is made of connecting threads. Let's learn a lesson from childhood in a constructive way for once, and apply the principle of homo viator. Life is a journey and when you decide to stop seeing it as a learning experience, you might as well jump in the coffin and let 'em beam you up Scotty. Or not, because you won't be going anywhere, just stagnating in the cesspit of your lazy ignorance.
There is a fine line between ignorance and bigotry and I think that a great majority of people are very much on the side of the former. So let's try and remedy that shall we? I was talking to my boyfriend and suggested that, given that the trend for reality TV does not seem to be weakening (X Factor, Strictly Come Dancing, etc.), why not take something along the lines of Secret Millionaire, Faking It and Wife Swap? Except that it must expressly be people of different races and classes. Put them in each other's shoes for a week, no holds barred (unless you're forcing a vegetarian to eat meat or whatever) and then see what they learn from it.
I would be loath to suggest something like this as I am no fan of reality TV but as my eminently sensible fella pointed out (I am actually looking forward to when I can legitimately refer to him as my 'partner'), you can't force people to do things because they'll hate it. So, given that there's a recession on - coax 'em with fame (if not money)! Generate more cheap entertainment, and do it for a good cause! I think that it should be as full-on an experience as possible, and for this reason, only the 'younger generation' should be involved, not older people. We don't want anyone having a meltdown! If it was up to me, I'd force my male cousins and brother to see what it's like for a girl brought over from India - or force them to have an extensive interview with a prostitute.
The reason that specifically comes to mind is because an (unwanted) conversation with my 14-year-old American cousin made my blood boil. He said he wants to date but remain a virgin till his wedding night (ha! Yeah right) and that he wants a virgin wife. Now, if they're both virgins, that's fair enough, I suppose. However, I'm taking this to mean that he wants to marry a woman with next to no sexual experience, while having sexual experience. When I remarked how appalling this was, amounting as it does to rape as pointed out by Jai on PP (see comment #155!), he went 'Yeah, but I think your brother and male cousin (names have been omitted) would agree with me.'
Ooooh, I BET they would! I bet they would! My wrath was about run seriously unchecked, and I hammered out something along the lines of 'Of course they would, because you're all men.' What a terrible thing to say. I was angry, but it was because they were Asian boys, growing up in a sexist, patriarchal world where every move for women is simply countered with another backslide. Not because they were male - it's never as simple as our generalisations would have us believe. So you're letting your daughters work? Excellent, because no boy in his right mind wants a gold-digger! Don't think you're going to get off the house-work though, beta, what do you think this is, India? We haven't got time to sit around all day! Do your job and come home and take care of dinner!
I am very much in agreement with Halima and Germaine Greer: there's no point trying to bring equality into an unequal world. I have resolved not to fall into the trap of ideology; if ever I have sprogs, I will lead by example and let them take the model of my own relationship rather than trying to ram my beliefs down their throat. Children are not stupid, but they need to see a total role-reversal in order to have any concept of going against the system. My man grew up in a household where the relationship between his parents is very respectful and equal and to add to that, his mother cleans while his dad cooks. Not a highly conventional arrangement, I think you'll agree. Plus, his dad spent a lot of time with him and he has never wanted for a male role model. When I compare this to what I saw in MY upbringing, I am a tiny bit jealous. However, I have ended up with the product of that healthy and admirable relationship, so I can't complain now, can I? :-D Ain't life grand.
P.S.: Has anybody else guessed who my boyfriend is? A couple of people developed suspicions which turned out to be correct. I have kept his identity completely secret so as to respect his privacy (and mine!) but most of my readers know who he is and I have referred to him previously, but I tried to be surreptitious about it... I don't know if I should just refer to him directly occasionally, because I really don't want to repeat history by going down the 'My boyfriend this' 'My boyfriend that' de-humanising route again...
We live in an age of MASS INFORMATION, I think you will agree. The Internet is a waterfall of differing accounts, of video and audio clips, blog posts and news articles. Waterfalls enrich and keep the supply of water coming steadily. However, if they flood, there will be deaths by drowning as the water overcomes all.
Now my alarmist metaphor might be a touch, well, alarmist, but the point stands. The Internet is a huge and wonderful thing. Some people don't like the notion that putting your data out there into cyberspace might mean that you never get it back, but life is full of risks and gambles, and for what you get in return, it is a glorious system.
The problem then, lies not with the Internet, but with us. Fucking lazy-ass humanity. We are an ineffectual lot, aren't we? We want to leap straight to the end-product of everything without making the journey. Did nobody ever tell us that it's not the winning but the participation that counts? Evidently not, and that is why we idolise Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal - we like the notion of a string of successive victories. We don't like to think about the work that goes into producing those victories and the long hard slog that results in a brief shining moment of sporting history at Wimbledon. Between the titles, a person's life is lived in single-minded devotion to training and fitness, a special diet and upon hearing that, we recoil in horror. It doesn't fit with the glamour of the brief shining moment.
To return to the Internet though - we fail to do it justice. We do not look upon it as a tumbling stream of water which could be combed into little rivulets to make it more comprehensible. Instead, we see a river bursting its banks and run, panicking, towards the opinion-ghettoes of the blogosphere or tabloid papers' websites, hiding out among those who share our views, be they justified, informed, articulate or not.
And Jesus fuckin' H. Christ, if you're looking at the Mail website or similar (which I categorically refuse to link to), it's a depressing sight. Don't be fooled - the Guardian's Comment Is Free is similarly packed to the cyber-rafters with morons, tunnel-visionaries and smart-arses. Trollish figures turn up everywhere, desecrating all our pathetic notions of humans as 'superior animals.' On the Web, it would seem, Darwin's rules don't apply. It's not survival of the fittest, it's survival of the stupidest.
Now, I know that people will be inclined towards sites that express their own views - that's perfectly natural. It is honestly sad though, to see how commentators pop up on Pickled Politics, for example, with the sole purpose of trying to be the sole right-wing maverick or whatever (I'm looking at you, Ashik!) and the numbskulls inhabiting the comments box on Guido Fawkes' blog are legendary among those with even a cursory awareness of the UK political blogosphere (that bloody word again!).
It is not about debate, it is not about legitimate criticism or disagreement, but about pathetic self-affirmation at the expense of others: I R A REBEL WOZ ERE, pretty much. Then you have Liberal Conspiracy, where the debates can descend into the most minutely finicky semantic wrestling, essentially to the point where people might as well be saying: 'You said X' and are responded to thus 'No, I said Y! YOU think I said X because that's what YOU think is right, but I think Y is right and I KNOW I'm right anyway'.
Let us move beyond words for a minute, I'm asking you. Let's break this fucking Great British tendency to complain and sound off about things, especially when we know next to nothing about them, because that's what is expected of us. The Web is a giant, giant place. Crawl out from under your tiny, little rock and actually open your eyes a little. Read articles - actually read them. Then try forming some thoughts.
I often castigate myself in the presence of people who write for a living, such as at yesterday's PP meet-up, because I can't always express myself particularly well. In fact, I'm even worse in person than in writing or print, or whatever. My tongue quivers hesitantly at the back of my throat as my brain swells dangerously, like a hen about to produce an egg. No egg is produced however - instead I get lots of strands that explode messily out, out of my mouth. Yet I do not feel shame about this. Why should I?
I talk to other people and I try to make sense of myself in the process, and that is what life should be about. Society is not something we can make disappear as if by magic, so trying to actually interact with it and the world around us might help. I am proud at the very least that I listen and take things in and try to collate grand ideas in my tiny little head. So many of us when we're forced to 'grow up' have moments where we extol the virtues of childhood. Conservatives in particular often seem to be the sort of people who wish they could 'go back' to that time (and I don't mean that in any good way whatsoever), whereas far-leftists often come off like that sulky, cynical smartarse in your sixth-form that everyone fancies for two years and then when you start uni you realise he was a total ass.
Yet it doesn't have to be so painful, it doesn't have to be all about loss. Just like the Internet should not be a series of adjacent ghettoes. It's called the fucking World Wide Web after all - a web is made of connecting threads. Let's learn a lesson from childhood in a constructive way for once, and apply the principle of homo viator. Life is a journey and when you decide to stop seeing it as a learning experience, you might as well jump in the coffin and let 'em beam you up Scotty. Or not, because you won't be going anywhere, just stagnating in the cesspit of your lazy ignorance.
There is a fine line between ignorance and bigotry and I think that a great majority of people are very much on the side of the former. So let's try and remedy that shall we? I was talking to my boyfriend and suggested that, given that the trend for reality TV does not seem to be weakening (X Factor, Strictly Come Dancing, etc.), why not take something along the lines of Secret Millionaire, Faking It and Wife Swap? Except that it must expressly be people of different races and classes. Put them in each other's shoes for a week, no holds barred (unless you're forcing a vegetarian to eat meat or whatever) and then see what they learn from it.
I would be loath to suggest something like this as I am no fan of reality TV but as my eminently sensible fella pointed out (I am actually looking forward to when I can legitimately refer to him as my 'partner'), you can't force people to do things because they'll hate it. So, given that there's a recession on - coax 'em with fame (if not money)! Generate more cheap entertainment, and do it for a good cause! I think that it should be as full-on an experience as possible, and for this reason, only the 'younger generation' should be involved, not older people. We don't want anyone having a meltdown! If it was up to me, I'd force my male cousins and brother to see what it's like for a girl brought over from India - or force them to have an extensive interview with a prostitute.
The reason that specifically comes to mind is because an (unwanted) conversation with my 14-year-old American cousin made my blood boil. He said he wants to date but remain a virgin till his wedding night (ha! Yeah right) and that he wants a virgin wife. Now, if they're both virgins, that's fair enough, I suppose. However, I'm taking this to mean that he wants to marry a woman with next to no sexual experience, while having sexual experience. When I remarked how appalling this was, amounting as it does to rape as pointed out by Jai on PP (see comment #155!), he went 'Yeah, but I think your brother and male cousin (names have been omitted) would agree with me.'
Ooooh, I BET they would! I bet they would! My wrath was about run seriously unchecked, and I hammered out something along the lines of 'Of course they would, because you're all men.' What a terrible thing to say. I was angry, but it was because they were Asian boys, growing up in a sexist, patriarchal world where every move for women is simply countered with another backslide. Not because they were male - it's never as simple as our generalisations would have us believe. So you're letting your daughters work? Excellent, because no boy in his right mind wants a gold-digger! Don't think you're going to get off the house-work though, beta, what do you think this is, India? We haven't got time to sit around all day! Do your job and come home and take care of dinner!
I am very much in agreement with Halima and Germaine Greer: there's no point trying to bring equality into an unequal world. I have resolved not to fall into the trap of ideology; if ever I have sprogs, I will lead by example and let them take the model of my own relationship rather than trying to ram my beliefs down their throat. Children are not stupid, but they need to see a total role-reversal in order to have any concept of going against the system. My man grew up in a household where the relationship between his parents is very respectful and equal and to add to that, his mother cleans while his dad cooks. Not a highly conventional arrangement, I think you'll agree. Plus, his dad spent a lot of time with him and he has never wanted for a male role model. When I compare this to what I saw in MY upbringing, I am a tiny bit jealous. However, I have ended up with the product of that healthy and admirable relationship, so I can't complain now, can I? :-D Ain't life grand.
P.S.: Has anybody else guessed who my boyfriend is? A couple of people developed suspicions which turned out to be correct. I have kept his identity completely secret so as to respect his privacy (and mine!) but most of my readers know who he is and I have referred to him previously, but I tried to be surreptitious about it... I don't know if I should just refer to him directly occasionally, because I really don't want to repeat history by going down the 'My boyfriend this' 'My boyfriend that' de-humanising route again...
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