So my women's studies professor, on Thurs., used the word "radical" to describe my feminism. (It was the first time she directly addressed me; until then, she offered indirect hints - and understand that this is going on during class times, not in private). Of course, I have no idea how to read her; I just assume that I discomfit her. Regarding a class in Fall 2008 that she's co-teaching, I told her, in a one on one meeting that same day, "The only relevant issue is whether you'd be uncomfortable with me in the class." She responded, "I'm very comfortable with you." I said, "Okay," which is the same as saying: We'll see how true that is. Seriously, you can't offer me a challenge like that and expect me to walk away. It's not like I plan to be any different than I have been; rather, it has to do with seeing how well her actions back up her words. Of course, some people are very good at distancing their professional and personal selves, but since she's already slipped in this class...Personally, I suspect that if I'd said that I wouldn't be offended or angry if she were uncomfortable - followed up with, Are you sure? - she might've said no.)
As I said in class, however, "I don't consider myself to be 'radical.'" But I wasn't really paying that much attention. I mean, I've been thinking about it a while before then, but I don't believe I knew where I was going with that statement until this weekend. So while I had the opportunity to explain what I think is at the core of feminism - which by itself makes feminism a radical concept - I didn't take it. What I shared instead was that I didn't claim feminism until 1999 because I'd associated it with lesbians/bisexuals; that is, I believed that you had to be a lesbian/bisexual to be a feminist. That veil of ignorance was lifted as a result of a professor who not only gave us readings from feminists who weren't lesbians/bisexuals (though we also read a few excerpts from lesbians/bisexuals), but also introduced this radical concept: Feminism, at its core, means acknowledging that women are equal to men (and vice versa).
If you're a feminist, you might be thinking: Yeah, so what? (That is, the concept isn't new and, in today's world, women have advanced in almost every nation, including those we might be tempted to dismiss because we imagine that women are oppressed at every level. This may be truer in some instances, but too often, especially in countries like the U.S., the problem of ethnocentrism gets in the way of reading cultures otherwise; and there's really no excuse for it, given the scholarship that exists addressing the different expressions of feminisms that exist within particular contexts rather than within a globalized framework. Then again, as in my example, to get rid of ignorance, sometimes you need someone else to guide you when you wouldn't have (on your own) or haven't (because of your experiences, etc.) been exposed to information that disrupts your own knowledge base.)
It's not enough, however, for people to say: Oh, of course women are equal to men. I mean, sure, women still get paid less than men in many instances - and what would you say to the idea that if women (men) really are working less than men (women), then maybe, to make it equal, women (men) should be retiring later than men (women) to make up for the differences that raising children (biological or otherwise) may mean on women (men)? - but women can get a lot of the same jobs as men. It also used to be that women couldn't vote, obtain an education (even basic literacy), wear jeans (it used to be a legal offense in the earlier part of the twentieth century, based on what I remember a guy sharing with me), own businesses, receive any divisions of property and assets in cases of divorce or widowhood, etc. We can't, however, say that women never worked until the women's rights movement. Also, we can't ignore that those who most benefited from the major changes in policy that followed were, initially, white middle/upper class women; now, it's mostly middle/upper class women regardless of race. The focus has since shifted to the roles of women in countries whose cultural norms and historical antecedents are different, requiring the sensitivity and appreciation that many (Western) feminists ignore. [And note that I'm mostly addressing a U.S. perspective.]
What makes the concept that women (and men) are equal to men (and women) radical is that once a feminist accepts it, she (or he) will begin asking questions. For me, it may be different because, as I've said, I grew up with a single mom, lived in apartments, etc., which means that in some significant ways I've become very individuated as a person. I was also, for thirty years, ambivalent about being Hispanic; I neither fit into white culture (though I was frequently around it) nor Hispanic culture (which I rarely experienced). The way I feel is aptly expressed in one of Edgar Allen Poe's short poems where he talks about what it is to be different: always a part of something in ways that set you apart from it. My traumatic experiences in Claremont, CA, however, also made me intensely aware of what it means to be an outlier in a pool of variables that are, on the whole, the same (exempting individual differences, what I'm talking about is class status); the strength I gained from that, however, is what's made it possible for me to be unafraid of taking risks as I continue to challenge what it means to be an American/U.S. woman in today's time (from shaving my head* to not wearing bras).
What I would've said in class, had I been able to articulate it, is this: I'm only "radical" to people who've never questioned the image of how a woman is supposed to act and look. My experiments - because you need to know that I'm not only aware of what I'm doing (that my choices are deliberate and directly related to my expressions of feminism), but I'm also evaluating other people's responses to me - are based on that premise of questioning what a woman should and shouldn't look like and act. For example: Does it make me less of a woman to not have hair on my head? Surprisingly, I received several compliments that I was "pretty": a term that was rarely used to describe me before then because of my fat body. It's only recently, however, that I'm wondering how much of that had to do with people's hidden assumptions that I might've had cancer; yet I'm also seeing (African) models with shaved heads (if you watch America's Next Top Model, you'll have seen one episode in which the competitors had to wear bald caps; however, I also saw a hairless model on a CoverGirl® commercial**, which seems to suggest a social acceptance of bald women).
However, I'm also aware of the implications for other people to comment (or not comment) about my choice to be bra-less. Ignoring that I'm comfortable not wearing a bra - in fact, I think wearing a bra is unnatural; not only do the straps cut into shoulders and leave marks under the breasts, but the design of the apparatus, over time, also works to constrict the circulatory system, etc. - let's not forget that I'm not breaking any laws by not wearing a bra. Two larger issues, however, potentially affect people's responses to me - which quite possibly has to do with the problems (and perhaps occasional benefits) of a social world that is overly mindful of political correctness - if what they fear is: that they will lay the ground for a sexual harassment claim (psychologically, this may have to do with acknowledging that I have breasts and that what's attracting their notice is the size or movement of my breasts); that they will be calling attention to my perceived class status (which assumes that I can't afford to buy a bra).
I am, as I said, a direct challenge to people, even if on an unconscious level. The problem, though, is trying to set the ground for a discussion about socialization. It's almost impossible to imagine that no matter how free one's choice seems to be, the choices concerning how we (women and men) look has a social context that's difficult to disentangle depending on your significant mother figure (biological or step- or other mother, aunt, grandmother, friend, etc.), significant father figure (biological or step- or other father, uncle, grandfather, friend, etc.), friends, etc. For example, a woman who grew up seeing her mom with makeup associates that in her choice to wear makeup. A woman whose mother put makeup on her associates that bonding/intimacy in her choice to wear makeup. A woman who grew up with friends who wore makeup associates that shared comaraderie in her choice to wear makeup. And on and on.
For the choice to wear makeup to be really free, the woman who wears makeup has to question the very basis for wearing makeup. She has to evaluate herself to know if she really likes the texture of wearing makeup, if she understands the consequences of where makeup comes from and how it affects skin (in terms of aging), etc. Without any of that, however, the decision to wear makeup has nothing to do with personal choice but the pressures she has grown up with and implicitly (unconsciously) naturalized in terms of the image she has of what a woman should look like. She also learns how to behave based on those models, and even when she rebels, it's often only temporary because she doesn't know how to contextualize her struggle: Am I doing this out of my own choice, as a rejection of values/influence I don't accept, or because that's all I've really known and not doing so may be cause for rejection? Etc.
So, first, one has to not just recognize that women (men) are equal to men (women), but also act on it. It doesn't just mean recontextualizing ourselves (women and men) in terms how we have responded to the pressures placed on us since we were too young to really understand what was happening, but also asking what it means to be a feminist. Working, for instance: It's only feminism to work if you have the option not to and you're doing something you want; then again, the decision to stay at home when one has the option to work is only feminism when it's an informed choice (and not automatic based on the models one has grown up with). But don't worry! I'll come back to all of this in another post!
* I shaved my hair twice in 2006. The only reason I haven't done so since is out of deference to my mom, who asked me not to shave it again. She's come a long way, too, though; as much as she doesn't like the idea of my not wearing a bra, she hasn't asked me to discontinue that practice because she understands that it has to do with me being a feminist.
** Corporations like CoverGirl® and Kellogg's® (in the marketing of its Special K® brand specifically), among others, are using different sized women in their advertisements. However, while they're challenging social norms concerning the ideal body type for women, they're also feeding into the social norms that continue to define how women should look. The problem is exacerbated by the socialization processes involving girls, who are fashioned through the models of the women around them. For this reason, I'm surprised that there hasn't been a lot of debate concerning the sexualized images of girls in commercials; for example, I recently saw a DQ® commercial in which a girl smiles at a boy and gets a free ice cream. The mother's reaction is shock when she hears the daughter say: "It's like shooting fish in a barrel" - yet she doesn't say anything. I'm reminded, too, of the commercial involving a male adolescent (in one of the gum commercials that talks about "dirty teeth") who hits on a friend's mom, but the woman does nothing to counter it. In both instances, the audience is being told something specific about relationships between men and women; women remain objects of desire, while men continue to be desexualized.
