How (Not So) Far We’ve Come: Still “Doing Gender”

Last week I attended an Inequality Seminar here at Harvard. An attractive bonus to attending these lectures beyond exposure to work from scholars across the country is, to be honest, the free food. And due to the old habit of practicing good hygiene and the fear of Swine Flu, I went to the restroom to wash my hands before fixing me a plate. When I was leaving the bathroom I noticed that there was a baby changing station (pictured above) in the men's room. I smiled. For someone who was a Women's and Gender Studies major undergrad, I was happy to see that there was a baby changing station in the men's room as I have noticed the lack of them in many of the sporting, movie, and entertainment venues I frequented in the last year. And I think it is safe to say that I have only seen a few of the baby stations in men's bathrooms over the course of my life (of course more on this side of year 2000). This was, to me, was a step in the right direction. Go Social Progress!

The smile, however, faded quickly after I looked pass the family of elephants and saw the stereotypical, gendered depiction. Before I continue, I want to point out that the elephant family is a normative one—father, mother, and child—which is, to some degree, problematic in and of itself. Now I am not trying to make a mountain out of an anthill but one cannot (or at least should not) ignore the more subtle undertones of the seemingly "innocent" and "innocuous" depiction of the parent changing the child. This was a men's room yet still it was "Mommy" changing the child. Even in the quintessential, gender segregated location to which we all must abide lest we are called perverts or some kind of outcast by others in society, gendered norms and expectations are still as present, alive, and strong as ever. If one takes gender as a masternarrative, an ever-present entity in the background influences interactions between individuals in a myriad of ways, one sees the ways in which our actions and the behavioral expectations others have of us are scripted. Furthermore, we are looked upon to abide by those scripts. Where is Daddy elephant while Mommy changes Jr.? At the watering hole with the other bulls?

I think this cartoon on the baby changing station is an example that gives even more credence to the argument that we all do and are expected to "do gender." To paraphrase their 1987 article where Sociologists West and Zimmerman developed their revolutionary hypothesis that one can "do gender," gender is something one performs. This idea is important because it states that gender is not natural, not an innate characteristic of men and women. Rather, they assert that gender is

A routine, methodical, and recurring accomplishment. We contend that the 'doing' of gender is undertaken by women and men whose competence as members of society is hostage to its production. Doing gender involves a complex of socially guided perceptual, interactional, and micropolitical activities that cast particular pursuits of masculine and feminine 'natures.'

In essence, gender is determined not by one's biology, but by society's reaction to and perception of one's biology. Gender is one's conduct that affirms one's sex category. In other words, if one is male then one must act like a male, and if female, one must act female. A person's sex is a "biological fact;" sex categories reserve certain activities and characteristics for particular sexes, but gender consists of the "routine, methodical, and recurring accomplishments" of everyday life. West and Zimmerman argue that accountability plays a key role in producing gender, because not only are we responsible for "doing gender" on a daily basis, we are held socially accountable for all our actions—all decisions must be made as if being watched because each action either affirms or disproves our gender. But what do examples like this say about the expectations we have for women and men to perform in 2009?

I bring up West and Zimmerman here specifically because I think this picture shows the inertial force behind deeply held gendered expectations. Rubbermaid could have easily drawn one cartoon depicting a male caregiver changing his child and one showing a female caregiver doing the same. To my knowledge, very few places have only one single sex bathroom in their establishment. Even all girls all boys school have both men's and women's bathrooms. I would assume you have to buy the pair anyway. Or why not leave off the "human side" of things all together and remove oneself from the question of who to put changing the baby? If this post is seen as a one where the author is being nitpicky then so be it. But as the slogan from years ago simply and emphatically states, men are caregivers too. The last thing I will say is this: I believe it is time for us all to move beyond these false binaries which based on unfounded constructions of reality that are themselves the result of sociomental processes aimed at alleviating cognitive dissonance for living in a blurred instead of a dichotomous world.

B.o.B. is Your Favorite Feminist's Favorite Rapper

B.o.B. can best be described as “Andre 3000 Lite.” He’s got Dre’s swagger minus the eccentric style, the flow minus the lyrical proficiency. And that’s not so much a dig at B.o.B. as it is a testament to Andre 3K’s prolific lyrical genius; B.o.B. has real musical talent, no doubt about it. His sound straddles the line between vapid hipster rapper and introspective conscious rapper, with a little bit of southern twang and carefree drug references thrown in for flavor. He was most notably featured in XXL’s “Freshman Ten” issue, a list of the hottest, buzz-worthy rappers to watch out for in 2009.

Yet B.o.B. is a cut above the rest, particularly in regard to his fascinating engagement with issues of feminism. I know, I was a bit shocked when I first heard it too. What’s especially unique here is that B.o.B. embraces themes of feminism, rather than adopting the full “feminist rapper” label. It’s refreshing to listen to a thoughtful guy rap about issues that matter to him—be they feminism, the unforgiving hip hop blogs, or, sometimes, getting high—without the excessive grandstanding usually associated with so-called “conscious” hip hop.

In his new mixtape, B.o.B. vs. Bobby Ray, B.o.B. delivers one of the more poignant depictions of female exploitation on his aptly titled track “Camera.” Verse one profiles an aspiring model that sleeps with photographers and producers in the hopes of making it big in the entertainment industry. She’s used and abused, objectified and exploited, promised stardom but ultimately dropped like a bad habit. Verse two turns to a small-town girl that moves to Atlanta to become a dual threat actress/singer. She tries her best to keep up with the speed of the city, hoping one day to bask in fame’s limelight. Using music videos as her breakthrough medium, she falls victim to the darkest sexual exploitation of the music industry:

She from a town far away,
Then she moved to the A to go to Georgia State
Then she got turned out, yeah she dropped out
Now she’s an actress that wants to sing,
But aint nothing pretty,
She’s just tryin to mimick the life in the city,
Trying to keep up with the limelight-livin
Just wishin, for one audition, the video position
But that aint how she used to be,
At 2 or 3, now she’s a hoochie freak,
So, that aint what the viewers see, just another cutie with a booty, booty.

Kinda makes you view hip hop videos in a different light, no?

Verse three discusses a high school dropout with a young child, struggling to support her family. Much like her own father, her son’s Dad is (all too predictably) absent. After working at Wendy’s for two years, she turns to stripping to make quick cash: “Twerking that bunn-ay/ Just to make her some daycare mon-ay/ And to pay for the rent bill month-lay.” Fifteen years later, she’s past her prime and unable to find work in the entertainment industry. Literally stripped of her innocence, she’s ashamed to look her son in the eyes.

The chorus, taken out of context, could have been lifted from any misogynistic rap song on the radio today: “Watch, her take of her bra/ Posing like star/ Smiling for the camera, camera/ Aw, she’s a movie star/ With that runway walk/ Just smiling for that camera, camera.” But in the context of the three young women B.o.B. vividly portrays, the hook paints a depressing picture of exploitation and despair. It’s a tragic picture, to be sure, but one that captures female martyrdom beautifully and respectfully.

These feminist undertones are not uncommon in B.o.B.’s music. In another mixtape, Hi! My Name is B.o.B., the rapper puts a Lifetime movie to song—and I don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way. In “Room 34,” B.o.B. offers a compelling story about a young high school girl, wooed by an older classmate. The young man charms her with his smile, offering her a ride home from school. His flirting makes her feel special, obscuring his nefarious intentions. What happens next is heartbreaking: He invites himself into her home, only to overpower her and repeatedly rape her. Beaten and battered, she blames herself for the vicious attack. With the grief too difficult to bear, she ultimately commits suicide by jumping from her bedroom window.

These tracks are certainly explicit, but not in a gratuitously sexual sense. Rather, the words B.o.B. puts to song are explicitly emotional. They convey a feeling of empathy for women that, surprisingly, doesn’t feel contrived or suffocating. To delve into the raw exploitation and degradation associated with being a woman in the entertainment industry—or simply being a woman, period—is nothing short of remarkable. And it’s all the more impressive when it comes from the mouth of one of hip-hop’s most talented up-and-coming rappers. Every now and then your favorite rapper probably cuts a lone “conscious” track buried in a sea of nonsense. It might be a song about his mother, or an ode to a past love. But, more often than not, it’s a distraction from the artist’s overall message rather than a central theme. With B.o.B., feminism appears to be a dominant topic, carefully discussed and artfully analyzed.

B.o.B. may never reach widespread stardom. He may never be your favorite rapper’s favorite rapper. But, with these strong themes, he just might be your favorite feminist’s favorite rapper.

Well, I am a Feminist

As the old saying goes, for every one step forward, we take two steps back. The recent, “I am not a Feminist” post on Womanist Musing adds an additional step back and causes us to stumble, stop, regain our footing, and then begin again. For those who have not read the blog, you should. It presents an interesting take and Renee brings up a few points to think over. I, however, think that her argument is wrong.

First, Renee's argument is sloppy. Does she really equate womanist with race, specifically black? If so, what is the difference between her argument for womanism and her vitriolic criticism of feminism? Excluded voices are excluded voices no matter whose voices they are. I am not coming to feminism’s rescue for there are surely faults within it as well. Still, how can we have a real discussion around race, gender, and society when half of either population is out of the picture? To declare open war on the “other side” solves nothing and—in my honest opinion, both academic and “social”—does more harm than good.

I am not a historian; but what feminism is she talking about? If we continue to think of feminism today as first wave feminism of two days ago or second wave feminism of yesterday, we can never move forward. For thinking along these lines does us all a disservice. Kimberle Crenshaw speaks to issues of women of color. So does bell hooks. Patricia Williams is in the same boat. Kristin Bumiller challenges the status quo. Tricia Rose. Melissa Harris-Lacewell. Being a feminist does not mean buying into the patriarchal system that is both "raced" and "classed." If anything, it challenges the system and all those—men and women alike—who adopt such worldviews. I refer to Melissa Harris-Lacewell’s debate with Gloria Steinem as a recent example: Harris-Lacewell incorporates history of women of color to the conversation. Renee presents an ahistorical analysis of feminism, effectively ignoring the work of white women and women of color who speak to issues—legal, economic, political, and social—that women of color face.

In 1992, feminist scholars Margaret Andersen and Patricia Hill Collins (though it does not matter, is black) argue that “while race, class, and gender can be seen as different axes of social structure, individual persons experience them simultaneously.” This is the direction that feminism was going in over fifteen years ago. Patricia Hill Collins, current President of the American Sociological Association and prominent feminist scholar, is the first to speak to the importance of intersectionality, the ways in which culturally and socially constructed categories like race and gender interact to produce difference and inequality. If this is what was meant in the post then I agree. But her words are more divisive and exclusive. And from reading the comments to the post, we surely have a concrete example of when rhetoric does more of the work than the argument.

Again, I am not feminism’s dark knight. I simply think that we should be fair in our critiques and criticisms. And by fair, I mean grounded in evidence. One of the purposes of Social Science Lite is to spark open and honest conversations about social issues and problems. This post is following in that vein. The experience of women of color is imperative to any discussion of gender and society and women of color need to be part of those larger conversations. “I am not a Feminist” reads as if neither the conversation nor the incorporation have ever happened or are happening now. This, however, is simply not the case. Are we done yet? Surely not. There are more barriers to overcome and tough issues to work through but advocating from a divisive platform is not the answer.