Let's Talk About: Gender.

"I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute."
--Rebecca West


Despite taking a single feminism class a year ago, I am not very well versed in the matter. Surprisingly (or not), I have been called a feminist numerous times in my two decades of roaming this Earth. Usually it was when I did what the above states...differentiating myself from a doormat especially. I remember one time very clearly: I was with a female college friend visiting one of her guy friends at another school. As he was bragging about being able to con some girl into doing his laundry for him, I pointed out she must be a fool to do such a favor with nothing in return. His response was "Wow, feminist much?" My female "friend" replied, "Just a touch."

Burn.

My mother never raised me to be necessarily proud to be a woman nor did my father treat me like "daddy's little girl." Perhaps it was because my parents were hoping their first born was a son but I always did boy-ish activities with my dad. We went fishing, did yard/house work together, watched sports, went skating, you name it. Growing up I liked to do all kinds of things; from climbing trees to dressing up my extensive Barbie collection (all of my Barbies drove the same pink Corvette though). One year for Christmas, as evidenced by pictures, I was given a play tool set and a doll house. I don't remember which one I gravitated towards first although I bet it says a lot about who I am. I do remember thoroughly enjoying both toys until they fell apart.

I never really thought anything of it.

At a young age, I started to realize it wasn't as unclear as I made it out to be. You were either a girl or a boy. Don't get me wrong, I've never questioned my gender but I have always enjoyed being "one of the guys" and more masculine activities. Thus, the "cooties" years were pretty hard on me. According to my mom, I came back from school in first grade and cried when my best male friend since preschool stopped hanging out with me because he liked his guy friends better.

And so my life continued; always wanting to do and enjoying things the "average" girl does not. In high school the careers which attracted me most were anything dealing with cars and law enforcement...not exactly the most girlie of interests. (I've never had the nurture in me to be a teacher or a nurse or a profession where I had to take care of people.) By this age however, we didn't have cooties anymore and most of my friends were males again. The few girls I could really get along with were similarly different from the other girls we knew but there were, and still are, just enough of us for me to feel not too lonely.

Now I've come to the culmination of all those years of gender-role-confusion. I've found myself in a crash-course police academy with 3 other girls and 40-some other men. Although I've grown accustomed to being the only girl (like the summer I worked at a car detailing shop), it's never ceased to amaze me how men have always managed to make me feel like a sissy. Whether it's the male boss who finds it acceptable to hit on me at work or the way guys offer to do the hard stuff for me...I've felt extremely belittled.

I thought this career choice would be similar. Of course, some men are under the impression the last place women belong is along side of them in a badge, the biggest disappointments I've experienced have been ones in which only I have played a hand.

The first day of my training, I was screamed at, spit at and made to do push ups until my muscles reached near failure. I never thought this would be a walk in the park but damn, I was in for a surprise. After being surrounded by 4 men who screamed in my face about not having a piece of equipment the property department was out of, something in my reaction gave off the impression I was being disrespectful. More push ups. It wasn't the push ups that hurt this time though. It was the frustration I felt at being misunderstood. There was nothing I could do...when a group of full grown-and-then-some sized men are screaming in your face, you learn how to shutup real fast.

Luckily for me, we were excused to the locker rooms before the tears overflowed.

Less than a week later and I find myself at a shooting range. Having never fired a gun before, I thought this would be a new and enjoyable experience. The first attempt went swimmingly. I wasn't the best shot but I was doing better than the only other girl in my group and got all my rounds off on time. The second attempt however required single strong and weak hand shooting. I'd like to blame the fact I couldn't reach/pull the trigger on the hurricane-like conditions in which I was firing but I think it had more to do with my small hands and lack of weapon knowledge.

Standing on the line, surrounded by a dozen men, the tears started to roll down my face. Luckily for me it was raining and I was bound and determined to squeeze those rounds off that measly 12 pound trigger. I kept pulling and pulling and nothing was happening. My finger was too high up on the trigger and I couldn't get a single round off after the initial couple. I started to cry a bit harder but kept pulling away. Finally, a second instructor came over to offer assistance. When he asked me what was wrong, I lost it. I started bawling in front of all those male strangers and wailed something about not wanting to go home.

More frustration.

Although I've always done my best to kick ass despite my gender and defy the norms, here I was, a girl in a man's shoes...crying like a baby.

Maybe those people are right. Maybe girls aren't meant to be police officers or do all those other positions normally held by men. I argue the few of us who can muscle through it ARE meant for it though. While my male counterparts at the academy can bust out those 100-some pushups a day with no problem and can fire a perfect score on their first attempt, it is not success which builds character and tests your strength. It is only after falling completely on your face and getting back up to try again that you toughen up.

You can say it's a man's job. Say women have no place in some agencies. I know all the women who have made it have had to push themselves exponentially harder than the men who do the same job. It may come more naturally to the male species but that only makes our equal achievements more impressive.



And in case you were wondering, on my third attempt, I shot a perfect score.

Let's Talk About: Monogamy.

“It serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard.”
– Dorothy Parker

Oh monogamy…what an overrated idea. After my last relationship ended so nastily, I had sworn nothing made you hate someone faster than becoming exclusive with them. Seeing them every day, having to listen to their stupid stories and lame jokes over and over, getting to know all their nasty habits and their ugly side, frequency, repetition, familiarity, blah. It is for the birds or fools, or perhaps both.

Sparrows or swallows are rumored to be monogamous. And penguins too right? I’ve not seriously investigated it but, if this is true, I’m willing to bet these animals have relatively short life-spans. Nothing like to 70-some years Americans are predicted to live. Monogamy makes sense for animals that only live 20 years. Hell, if I popped out of a uterus knowing I’d be gone in a couple decades, I’d start mating with the first person I saw and never let them go. Understandable, sure. But 20 plus years with the same person? No thank you!!

And death really is the only way out of those types of relationships. Or something even more unpleasant. “More unpleasant than death?” you ask. Well, I can think of a few things…

I suppose some people like the idea of monogamy. Of course, it’s these people of which you must be wary. They’re either possessive or delusional. I’m convinced most people don’t actually enjoy the idea of being with the same person for life. Nature indicates it’s about as unnatural as Hell. Society indicates it’s expected. So we do it. We date around, find someone we like and settle down. I’m not talking about marriage either. Marriage is the worst. Getting married is like swearing to monogamy. I’m talking about relationships. Relationships (pre-marriage) are just monogamous agreements. Don’t fool yourself though, these suck too.

At a young age, how can you possibly find what you want for the rest of your life? You cannot. Instead you find someone you can get along with in the here-and-now, settle down and cling away like there’s no tomorrow. Eventually you’re miserable and either “stay together for the kids” or divorce. That’s the statistic which proves monogamy is unnatural. Look at the divorce rate! Some sites have suggested it is near 50% in the U.S. How hopeful. And divorce rates don’t even take into account the percentage of couples who are still together and hating each other.

I’ve never been married but I’ve been in a few relationships which have gone to Hell. Same idea, I suppose. In relationships though, you don’t have to go to court to get the fuck out.

When I express these ideas to most people, they assume I’ve been hurt really bad in the past and I’m afraid to commit. I’m some heartbroken, hapless girl who needs to be saved by a man who knows how to treat her or something. It’s funny when people verbalize this because I never know what to say. I am shocked to find I have been traumatized and that is why I think this way. I thought, just perhaps, common sense led me to this conclusion? I can admit, my first serious relationship happened at a young age and I was a fool. I was hurt pretty bad but I don’t think I still carry around baggage from it and I consider myself pretty in-touch with my emotions. And quite honestly, since then, I’ve been the one doing the “heart-breaking.” I’ve been treated really well in my last few relationships. It was the familiarity which got to me. I got bored. Of course, I made other excuses to break it off but I never let them think it was their fault (and it wasn’t.) “It’s me!” I can say that and mean it and, to be honest, it feels great to be honest.

But now I find myself in a conundrum. For the last six months or so, I’ve been treated very well. One of my biggest relationship problems is I always end up with the guys who will sacrifice themselves to make me happy. Once again, none of this indicates I have been mistreated…quite the opposite! While it is clear to see how this can get boring fast, what I discovered a few days ago came as a shock.

While lying in bed, my significant other began answering text messages rather early in the morning. Okay, it was the afternoon but it was “morning” as we were still in bed, somewhat sleeping. When he went to throw the wash into the drier, I decided to do something totally out of character. I went snooping. I got exactly what I was asking for when I found he’d been sending a female co-worker some rather incriminating messages. If you know me, you know I’m never one to sit down, shut up and just keep something to myself. I ended up kicking him out after some very unsatisfactory explanations.

Although my snooping was out of character, so was his texting! Of all the men I’ve dated, I’ve trusted this one quite a bit. This was the last thing I expected from him. The guy who told me numerous times he wanted to be in a relationship and get married and settle down and all that miserable madness I’ve condemned thus far…he was going to do this? In the midst of his half-assed excuses, he revealed I was the only girl he’d been with that he hadn’t cheated on…yet.

In hind sight, after some deliberation with a close male friend, his wandering ways make a bit of sense. Men who are willing to sacrifice themselves so much to please a girl are rarely satisfied with themselves. To feel like a man again, it only makes sense to pursue another girl. It strokes the damaged ego, ya know? I get it.

What I don’t get is why he swore being exclusive is what he wanted? Why was he the one who pushed me into a relationship? So he could do this? I’m not that jaded or cynical. I don’t believe people start out with the intentions of hurting another. I’m just shocked to find I’m a victim of someone who has fooled themselves into thinking they were capable of monogamy. As stupid of a thing as it is.

Let’s Talk About: “Safety”

This weekend marks the second time I have flown in the last seven or eight years. The last time I flew was back in 2003 and it was international (I spent three weeks in the UK). Because I was traveling with a large student group, I arrived at the airport ridiculously early and thought nothing of it. Perhaps security restrictions weren’t all they’ve become lately or perhaps my memory just fails me. Regardless, I would like to dedicate this blog to real truth, justice and safety. Not the outlandish ideas of truth, justice and safety we’ve been chasing since that fateful day in September.

This is by no means an attack on the honorable government employees who have chosen to uphold and enforce these silly laws. This is however, an attack on the administration which created their jobs and this foolish notion of “safety” in what can only be considered an attempt to scare the American public. I respect every individual who makes an honest living, especially one of civil service. I understand the general population is a nasty breed and I give these people props on dealing with the impatient fucks of the country who cannot be bothered with the extra twenty minutes it takes them to get through security. I’m not one of these fucks as much as I like to complain about these procedures. I do not consider myself rude or disrespectful towards Transportation Security Officers. I just think their job is a joke and I’d like to see my tax dollars going towards something which will really protect me and my fellow citizens. (Please note: I retract every nice thing I said in this paragraph if you’re one of those officers who “randomly” selects all the brown people to be searched…I’m onto you.)

The truth of the matter is, if my plane goes down because some crazy terrorist fuck has smuggled a weapon or explosive past security, I will not point my finger at the Transportation Security Administration. (Maybe because I wouldn’t have a finger to point, but that’s beside the point…okay, too much pointing.) At the same time, if my plane arrives at its destination safely, I do not thank my lucky stars for these people either. In my ever-so-humble opinion, if something is meant to be, no amount of “safety” precautions will prevent it. I don’t care how many screeners you pass my bag through or how much toothpaste you’ve confiscated. Where there is a will, there is a way.

Let’s make sense now. I know it’s hard for the people running our country to fathom such logic, but I’m going to break it down as easy as possible. The terrorists who we believe were responsible for 9/11 are long gone. And the future generations of potential terrorists are a bit smarter than we’re willing to admit. Even if it weren’t for the recent spike in security measures, I am thoroughly convinced potential terrorists would not attempt to attack America in the same manners previously used.

The fact a small number of people were able to overtake a majority of passengers and pilots using box cutters in the first place is almost laughable. I am not implying the attacks which took place that day could have been put down with a simple act of bravery or vigilantism but everyone with a less than empty head on their shoulders can admit it is absurd. So while we’re focusing all our efforts and resources on ensuring the airways are safe to travel, these future terrorists are spending their time wisely scheming how to sneak attack through the backdoor we never even fathomed. I mean, if I wanted to send a message to America (or the entire fucking world), the first thing I would do would be to get my pilots license and fly over, say Disney World, and drop some kind of incurable disease all over that hellhole. Not only are they poisoning everyone at the park but everyone these people (who are potentially oblivious) come in contact with for the duration of their trip. And once they get home, success…the virus has spread all over the state, country, globe and the real mayhem can begin.

I wonder if the Patriot Act prevents me from even thinking about such things. If something horrible like this incident I have theorized in my head ever happens, I’d like to state here and now – I am not responsible. I love my country too much for that and, quite honestly, I am too damn lazy to exert the effort required to follow through with such a laborious task. I’m just pointing out; as far as I know, this is a brilliant plan which could be carried out with little to no hindrance. And all this time, we’ve been worried about making people throw out their hand lotion which exceeds 3 ounces. Doesn’t it seem a bit trivial?

I concur, we need someone or something to make our flights safe but if we want to be so anal about flying, shouldn’t we at least consider the other ways in which our country is open to attack? Well, I suppose if we could worry in moderation, it would be advisable. It appears, however, moderation is unpopular at this point in time.

The bottom line is, let us not overcompensate for past mistakes. I believe the government had at least a slight indication or warning of the things to come and I believe someone quickly brushed it under the rug as impossible. We are America, the unstoppable nation, he must have thought. And what American can blame him? Admitting we are vulnerable is admitting we are weak.

But what is a greater travesty – being truthful about the chinks in our armor or pretending to be invincible and thus putting ourselves at an even larger risk?