Hey Steve,
You aren't being too honest. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.
That's not where I was going with this. My feelings aren't hurt, and I certainly wasn't trying to close down anyone else's communication. I was simply adding my own perspective on the awkwardness that Clint and others were talking about. I can't add much about female oppression because, well, I can't, although I'm eager to listen about it. From my end, my options are to talk about what I do know, or don't talk.
Right. I don't read you as closing down anyone else's communication. I didn't mean this about you specifically, sorry if that came across.
But the evolution of this thread does show male privelege -- requests to avoid creating a default, and to avoid othering, became in part a conversation about how defaults are okay, and how women are incorrect in their perceptions that they aren't. Rather than focusing on how othering affects women, the conversation becomes about how it affects men.
There's no individual blame in this. It's not even that it shouldn't have happened. It probably needed to happen.
But that doesn't mean that it didn't folow an arc where men exercised privelege to negotiate female realities, and where men's experiences -- (we need a baseline, why don't you tell us you're a woman?, i have to walk on eggshells, and etc.) -- were brought to the center of hte disucssion.
This happens in 90% of mixed-sex discussions about feminism, and in 90% of mixed-race conversations about white supremacy. Again: it's okay. There's no blame to individuals. It's part of how our cultural systems work.
Conversations about rape generally turn to one thing or another -- either how the victim should have been more careful, or how men are affected by rape accusations. Talking about women, or about the responsibilties or rapists, is extremely difficult. The conversation slips back to a male perspective. It's extremely difficult to avoid.
At the same time, I will observe that and mention it. Because it operates invisibly, and while it is perfectly fine any one time it operates, in aggregate, it promotes the centering of men at the heart of discourse, which is one of the things I discussed earlier in "patriarchy hurts men, too."
Palimpsest, you said both sides need to be talking about this stuff. I thought that was a really good point, and I attempted to follow through. My post was very largely motivated by you. You now appear to be saying that it bothers you when men talk about their side of it. Our problems are petty, so you don't want to hear about them.
I don't not want to hear about them. We can talk about them.
But that doesn't mean that they aren't petty. When I come into a discourse about how non-white women are excluded from feminism, and white women play into the hands of white supremacy by talking about high heels and abortion instead of class division, and there's angry language about white women in it, it hurts my feelings. My hurt feelings are real. They're worth examining and talking about. But, in comparison to what the point of their post was, it's still petty.
The first time I realized how racist I was -- am! -- was a heart-breaking moment. It hurt like I can't believe. I was working with an anthropologist professor who I loved, absolutely loved, and she liked me very much. We were doing an independent study about creative writing. I was writing black characters. I had a black woman invite a white owman into her home, and my professor said, "I don't believe this. Most black people I know are never comfortable with white people in their space." I looked at her, across this small office, and realized that even though I wanted to be anti-racist, even though she liked me a lot, there was an impassable gulf between us. Race would always be in the room.
It's good to talk about that. I needed to talk about that.
Part of what hurts about it is that I'm not used to being racialized, to being marked out for my race, to being unpriveleged in this way. That's an uncomfortable feeling, and also worth talking about. However, when we're discussing the subject of racism, even though it may be something I want or need to talk about, in the subject of racism, it's still petty. The white man's burden, and the fear of walking on eggshells, are small things, in the wake of male privelege.
This is what I mean about framing my activism in reaction to your feelings, or refusing to do so. Black women shouldn't frame their conversation around my feelings. And I don't think feminists should frame thair conversatoin around men's feelings. It puts white people and men at the center of the conversation, again.
Our job is to educate ourselves until we know what you know, and until we've done that we really shouldn't speak.
Well, educating yourselves is a good idea. So is taking lumps. I try to do both, personally.
But you were mentioning an invisible, ill-defined line, and I was pointing out that the reason it's invisible to you is that you're centered in a male-defined narrative. If you really want to find the line, you can.
It isn't magic. It's grounded in a coherent body of work. It isn't a single line, of course, it's a bunch of lines that move through each other -- feminism is better called feminisms -- but you'll understand why I make my lines, and you will be able to argue for why you or someone else would draw the line elsewhere.
The recommendation to lurk on feminist blogs is specifically to avoid venting outrage. It isn't that I don't wnat to talk to you. I'm in your space, bringing these ideas here. But if you go to a feminist blog, you are entering their community, and their community is built on a commonality of experience which may seem obscure at first, but becomes clear as information is brought in. Often, men will enter feminist blogs and make very superficial arguments, and the women and experienced feminist and pro-feminist men there will not be tolerant of that, because feminism 101 isn't what those spaces are about. Feminism 101 can be what this space is about, however.
I can bring some of my knowledge to this conversation, but I can't bring everything in. Among other things, I recommend my own weird hybrid of second and third wave feminism, blended with social anthropology and literary theory. I don't know everything.
If you are committed to social equality, it's something that requires work. The benefit is working to end oppression, making privelege visible, understading where the line is, helping women -- and other groups. The detriment is it takes work, and that work is internal and painful.
It can't be solved in a single conversation; that was one of my points.
I hope I've been clearer this time. Please let me know if I haven't. I don't want to dismiss you -- I have sincerely appreciated your willingness to examine yourself and to participate frankly in this conversation. At the same time, I myself am also trying to be honest.
I think there are gaps in terminology between us that also make things difficult. And, of course, I don't always express things as well as I could. I apologize for that, and for any offense I've given through misstep or misunderstanding.