Apple Pies, McDonalds, and Gender O’ My

Am I the only that finds it a bit ironic that the restaurant that has been criticized as the culinary culprit in the breakdown of the American family has returned to traditional gender roles in their advertisements? Or at least traditional gender expectations? Yes, McDonalds has been pointed out in the lineup as being many families' route, or rather escape, from having home-cooked meals around the dinner table as stable, nuclear family ought to be doing. I do not mean to single out McDonalds as if those who run the company orchestrated this phenomenon by themselves. But given the general ratchet effect that has taken effect in the number of activities we cram into a single, 24 hour period and changing expectations of members of society as whole, fast food restaurants in general have been seen as enablers of this decline. And when you're the biggest and baddest bully of them all, you tend to take the rap more so than the others.

So what is this post about? Well, my apple pie wrapper pictured above. The apple pie has been a staple and trademark American food since the days of our grandparents. You may recall the old saying, "As American as apple pie." Though mostly a white, middle class story, it did not stay within this demographic group alone. It was not only a gastronomic creation; it was a symbol of American domestic life for many years, both here and abroad. Many home economics books of yore typically employed different depictions of the apple pie on their covers while inside they outlined how women ought to fill their roles of wife, mother, and homebody. I took my favorite oldest niece (our running joke as I only have two nieces and she's the oldest. Get it? Good) to McDonald's for lunch when I was in Miami. We both got apple pies and I saw the wrapper. And I was like, wow. Seriously. "Mommy didn't have time." Really. Kind of pissed me off: I'm not lovin' it.

The kitchen, even in the advertisement for the quintessential fast food restaurant, remains the woman's domain. In fact, one may can interpret the reading as sanctioning women for bring to busy. Though some conservatives, as I say above, demonized these restaurants for allowing women to spend even less time at home, and especially in the kitchen, McDonalds and traditionalists seem to be of one mind. McDonald's has not gone as far as the old saying, "A woman's place is to be barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen," but the general picture, I argue, is still there.

As a practical matter, it takes time to bake an apple pie when you do it right. But, as this advertisement suggests, let's put a child and/or husband not having solely one on mommy.

This post is not meant to be particularly earth-shattering. Rather, it fits with my general thinking about how reified our thinking about gender roles and expectations are and how best are we to continue moving forward in contesting, blurring, and crossing these boundaries. Personally, I feel that there is still much work to be done. However, I know that this is preaching to the choir members who also serve on the usher board on alternative Sundays and volunteer for the Sheppard's care ministry (to use and extend that old adage). In commenting on my post "How Not So Far We've Come: (Still) "Doing Gender"" where I discuss the gendered picture on baby changing stations in bathrooms, one of our more insightful readers said that things will change only when men start to care. I partially agree with her. I think that things will change when both men and women no longer take pictures, phrases, or depictions like these for granted.

Come Out, Come Out Whoever You Are(?): Outings in Popular Media

To be upfront about this post, it is a response to Bryan Safi’s video That’s Gay: Coming Out. Upon a cursory viewing of the video, one does get a sense of how coming out on popular shows has been constructed in a way to amp up the drama. On this point, I agree. In his comical framing and colorful presentation, however, I question if he does just as much of a disservice to coming out, or rather the choice/experience of coming out, by his depiction of the examples he uses. I will only say two brief points that I believe are overlooked in his “analysis.” And it must be noted that both points grapple with the same question: what about the nonmoments?

To begin, I quote one contributor over at Womanist Musings, the blog where I found this clip. She states that

Once again, [Safi] is so bang on correct. The way that coming out is constructed in the media is absolutely ridiculous. I mean seriously…they make it seem like someone is admitting to murder. Heaven forbid the media just have GLBT people going on with their lives just like everyone else. Oh no, we cannot possible portray being gay or lesbian as anything other than an oddity.

However, I wonder if the contributor to Womanist Musing listened/watched the entire clip. Safi mentions that there has been a proliferation of “outings,” both voluntary and involuntary, in recent history in the media (in this case speaking only to TV sitcoms). He states that “coming out” has been depicted in a number of ways and through various avenues and the like. In fact he outlines, again in a colorful manner, some himself. The question I have is, does this not speak to reality more than fiction? Is it a sign of times getting better and not worse? Though Safi doesn’t include clips from Grey’s Anatomy, for instance, there was an occasion with Cali where the more fanatical, hysterical “outing” didn’t happen. To use one example Safi uses himself, Glee, wasn’t Kurt’s coming out—both to Mercedes and his father—one of the modal occurrences? What about Calvin in Greek: Ashleigh thinking Calvin is hitting on her and she makes a move (a kiss) only to be stopped with the news that he is gay? I am not saying that this is in fact how everyone who is outwardly gay came out, but Safi’s portrayal, at least to me, sullies and minimizes those experiences.

Though I agree that “coming out” has been incorporated into scripts to draw in the crowds, I have to ask about the assumption that we are making about the entire cast of characters being heterosexual save for those who will be somehow marked as gay. I know that some will say this is a statistical fact; there are more heterosexual individuals than homosexual. This may very well be the case but we still see instances in popular sitcomes where we are left in surprise when we find out someone is gay and it is not an instance of the “Flaming Kamikaze” or the “Kanye West Swift Kick.” I think about Grant from Greek, a show that Safi himself uses twice as evidence for his producers using coming out as an attraction to lure viewers in. No one on the show knew that Grant, Calvin’s new boyfriend, was gay until he and Calvin started hooking up. It seems to me that from the position Safi puts himself in is one that assumes everyone is straight until proven otherwise. That, to me, is problematic in and of itself though I do understand that given the history of LGBQTI individuals in the media, it is a reasonable assumption.

When speaking of such an important life event in people’s lives I think we have to be a little smarter in our analysis even when trying to be snarky and comical. Sadly, Safi sensationalizes the outings in the same manner he vilifies the media for doing. Is that the pot calling the kettle black? Instead of taking a more exhaustive, panoramic view of the presence of LGBQTI individuals on television shows and their “outings” and lack thereof, Safi lets us all down, gay and straight alike.

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.

Beyond The Tramp Stamp

(x-posted at Feministe)

I wouldn’t be surprised if many of the regular readers of Social Science Lite and Feministe cringe upon hearing the phrase “tramp stamp.” I dug through Feministe’s archives, and found this insightful post from Jill back in ’07. She wrote about an issue many of us are all too familiar with: sexist interpretations and judgments of tattoos on women’s bodies.

But a recent conversation with a friend pointed to another “–ism”—latent classism—that undergirds many objections to tattoos.

The conversation began simply enough. We were walking through a mall and noticed a fair amount of body art. We commented on arm bands, lower-back tattoos, and arm sleeves. Interestingly, our judgments of the tattoos differed dramatically: I liked creative tattoos but disliked some awkwardly placed ink, whereas my friend uniformly disapproved of body art.

Our conversation was relatively rational until a single word was uttered: trashy.

“I just think tattoos look trashy,” my friend innocently stated. Fair enough; the ugly tribal arm band we noticed on a young man’s tanned bicep did look a bit corny. But I pressed further. “Why is it trashy?” I asked. “I don’t know. Tattoos just look lower-class to me.” I swear I saw her nose tip up in the air, ever so slightly.

And with that, the floodgates opened.

She explained how she associates tattoos with working class men and women, a sign of their lack of refinement and sophistication. Moreover, the very decision to get a tattoo pointed to their lack of decorum, which she directly associated with their class position. In other words, all poor people are trashy, and their tattoos merely accentuate this universal fact.

I replied, naturally, by putting her classism in check: Does simply having a tattoo—any tattoo—equate with being “trashy,” which signals lower class status? By extension, does that mean that all lower class people are “trashy?” Is being “trashy”—and thus, having a tattoo—simply a byproduct of one’s class position, implying that lower class people uniformly make stupid, unrefined decisions? And are all tattoos “trashy?” Who are we to decide what’s trash, and what’s art? Are certain civilizations and cultures that engage with body art “culturally trashy” and “lower class?” And so on.

My friend’s objections to tattoos were infused by her own classism and normative assessments of “proper” behavior. I put her nonsense in check, but that didn’t exactly dissolve her prejudices. See, her take on tattoos was so fundamentally ingrained in her mind that she had difficulty breaking from her blanket associations. She was beginning to see her classism, and recognize her privilege—but it wasn’t exactly a “light bulb” moment. She could see how her prejudices were classist, but had trouble letting them go.

The end result of this conversation produced just that: a conversation. It’s often hard to draw firm conclusions when dealing with such complex and subjective topics. But it’s an ongoing process. We can’t expect people, like my friend, to immediately abandon their classism; we are social beings, after all, beholden to larger social forces that often influence our desires and prejudices. It’s part and parcel of moral boundary work—a social process of defining in-groups and out-groups, often predicated on the policing of “proper” behavior—that’s learned from an early age. Many whites, for example, would be simply lying if we said we didn’t get nervous when approaching young black males on the street. No matter how much we tell ourselves “This is really racist to fear them just because they’re black,” it’s a gut reaction—one embedded in larger structures of social relations.

Classism—like racism, sexism, and other –isms—persists, no matter how forcefully we call our friends’ prejudices into check. But we still try. And hopefully, after continued and repeated conversations, we’re able to alter our preconceptions and begin to view the social world in a slightly different light. Dismantling interpersonal prejudices is, of course, an ongoing social project.

The Reverse of Discrimination is "Not Discrimination"

I recently went on a road trip with my uncle, traveling from Boston to New York for my brother’s high school graduation. As we drove through western Massachusetts, our conversation eventually drifted to employment and the economy. In what would prove to be a fascinating discussion, my uncle began to recount his first job interview after college. He graduated from Northeastern University in the ‘70s—right around the time President Nixon institutionalized affirmative action and quotas served as the nation’s predominant employment policy. He had worked in Northeastern’s admissions office for a few years, so when a full-time position opened up at the University of Michigan’s admissions office, he made the 14 hour drive halfway across the country to interview for the job.

A funny thing happened during his interview, however. According to my uncle, his interviewer immediately apologized as he entered the room. ‘Look, I hate to say this,’ the interviewer said. ‘But there’s no way we’re going to be able to hire you. If you were a woman or black, I’d hire you on the spot. You are totally qualified, but we’ve got to fill our quotas.’ Naturally, my uncle was none too pleased, commenting plainly (but forcefully) that acts of “reverse discrimination” are unfair. I did my best to defend affirmative action policies, discussing their historical necessity, noting their negligible affect on white male employment, and even waxing philosophical about the entitlement associated with staking claim and ownership over falsely constructed “spots” in colleges or the workforce. It was all to no avail, though. Cliché as the phrase is, my uncle was “passed up” for the job, and there wasn’t much I could say.

We’d be naïve to trivialize my uncle’s experience or write it off as just another “reverse discrimination” fairytale. It happened. It’s a reality. The problem was not that this was an exaggeration; instead, it was that my uncle forgot about his lifetime of advantage as he harped on that one, single experience.

See, claiming reverse discrimination is a lot like recounting your golf score. It’s always the one or two bad rounds that leave the deepest, most painful impressions. You always remember the bogey on the 9th hole, but never the birdie on the 10th. Somehow, the abundance of good holes are taken for granted, while the one or two missteps are amplified and taken as indicative of the entire round. Sure, my uncle remembers getting passed up for the job with the University of Michigan—an event that (probably) happened the way he said it did. But, in the process of recounting this single experience, he forgot about a lifetime of job interviews in which he directly benefited from his whiteness or his gender. In all the jobs my uncle interviewed for, how many times were applicants immediately rejected for having “black” sounding names? How many women were turned away because employers didn’t think they could handle the stress of the job? How many times did my uncle’s employment prospects benefit from acts of statistical discrimination that weeded out potentially qualified minority applicants?

Still, many others that hide behind the “reverse discrimination” mantra often have few, if any, personal experiences to justify their outrage. But the golf analogy still fits. These folks are the ones that throw a fit over their buddy’s 10-stroke handicap. That’s not fair, they complain. But in their moral grandstanding, they forget all of their privileges that negate—and even surpass—their buddy’s handicap. These privileges may include the country club membership that afforded them hours of practice on the course, the childhood golf lessons their parents paid for, or the hand-me-down Callaways their father didn’t need anymore after he got his new set of clubs. Their buddy with the 10-stroke handicap was just allowed to join the country club recently, had parents that couldn’t afford to invest in clubs or other activities, and never inherited any valuable assets. In short, the two golfers didn’t begin the round on equal footing.

With some folks, claims of reverse discrimination are proxies for implicit assumptions of black or brown intellectual inferiority. The operative word here, however, is some. Other folks have had very real experiences with so-called “reverse discrimination”—it’s just that these isolated instances fill a disproportionate share of their memory. The real problem with the “reverse discrimination” debate (besides the logically incoherent label “reverse discrimination”—what is the reverse of discrimination anyway? Not discrimination?) is our inability to honestly discuss the issue. The question shouldn’t be whether or not this incident—or others like it—actually occurred. Instead, we need to ask ourselves, how often does this happen, and to what effect? Such acts rarely occur anymore, and the effect is almost always minor or marginal. And, of course, the folks that decry “reverse discrimination” have almost always benefited from other instances of privilege. They just tend to forget about them.

He’s Assertive; She’s a Bitch

A while back, I wrote about the racial privilege associated with speaking forcefully and having your message heard. I argued—and continue to believe—that folks of color are more susceptible to racially charged interpretations of their tone of voice. In other words, a black guy offering the same message as me would, more often than not, be painted as “angry” or “militant,” while I would, more often than not, be seen as “passionate” or “engaging.” When I get into an impassioned rant, my audience—particularly white audiences—may think I’m a bit over the top; I’ll concede that. But my words and tone aren’t going to trigger the racialized stereotype of black male hyper-masculinity and irrational anger, since, of course, I’m a white guy.

A few of our thoughtful (and sharp) readers suggested that the racial privilege I wrote about was also gendered—meaning that women are not afforded the same privilege to speak forcefully without fear of negative stereotyping.

I have to admit, this was a pretty egregious oversight on my part. Given the current political climate—from Hilary Clinton to Sonia Sotomayor to Michelle Obama—it's clear that strong, prominent women haven’t exactly received the most positive national news coverage. Clinton’s been called “shrill,” Sotomayor’s been called a “bully,” and conservative blogger Michelle Malkin begins each post on Michelle Obama with a picture of the First Lady scowling or frowning—a racially charged attempt to depict her as excessively scary and militant.

Such instances are not simply relegated to high profile women; it’s a safe bet that most of our (assertive, thoughtful, vocal) female readers can relate to this pervasive stereotype. Moreover, this isn’t simply an example of a “double standard;” rather, it’s male privilege in action. If I bang my finger on the table during a rant in a seminar here at Harvard, no one’s going to call me “shrill” or “domineering.” These are words used to describe folks that defy stereotypes and resist domination or subservience. These are words used to put them in their place, to remind them they’re not white; they’re not men. These are words that evoke, employ, and perpetuate privilege.

While I can't really speak from personal experience, dating a woman in corporate America has helped make these gendered stereotypes salient. Big business—a male dominated field predicated on assertiveness and team-based problem solving—is probably one of the better examples to illustrate male privilege and the gendered interpretation of tone. Consider a corporate team planning a company’s new investment strategy. The team leader is, statistically speaking, most likely a white man. He’s leading the group in a brainstorming session, and invites input from the team. The majority of the team is, statistically speaking, most likely white and male. Everyone is generally cordial and polite considering they're working together toward a common goal. But when male and female team members assert their respective dominance, they prompt two very different responses.

See, when a male team member speaks out of turn, interrupting the flow of conversation to interject his brilliant idea, he’s a valuable asset to the company. He’s being a good team member. He’s assertive. But when a female team member tries to compete, simply asserting her equality and intellectual evenness with her male counterparts, she’s excessively domineering. She’s overstepping authority, displaying improper professional etiquette. She’s a bitch.

Ultimately, these stereotypes may—perhaps, obviously—fall most severely on the shoulders of black women. Black women that forcefully assert intellectual or physical equality with men are doubly susceptible to negative stereotyping as “ghetto,” “shrill,” or a combination of the two. Privilege isn’t an either/or phenomenon; multiple social identities create multiple structures of privilege, and black women find themselves at the bottom of this stratified order.

Look, this (admittedly oversimplified) example is not meant as an indictment of corporate America, nor is it indicative of every woman’s professional or personal experience. But it most certainly reflects decades of social science research on the perceptions of women in positions of power. And, more importantly, it most certainly underscores an underappreciated mechanism influencing social inequality.

The problem here is when privilege translates into material winners and losers; when privilege affords job promotions, favorable peer evaluations, and wage premiums, and lack thereof results in economic, political, or social ceilings. Privilege is a very real—and pernicious—component of inequality. The measures needed to correct these racist, sexist, and generally misguided notions are, of course, debatable. But the privilege is real, and it carries a material impact. Exposing and recognizing it is a necessary first step toward greater equality.

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.

Emasculating Environmentalism

During this past election cycle, it was a bit surprising to see environmentalism embraced by both John McCain and Barack Obama. Of course, this wasn’t the classic form of environmentalism. Indeed, the rhetoric of global warming was all but abandoned as they couched their campaign promises of “going green” in terms of economic recovery plans and a growing fear of “dependence on foreign oil.” It tends to be Democrats that hold a monopoly on eco-conscious policy, but this election cycle suggested that a new era of environmentalism was underway. It’s important to note that it seemed like most of the general public was behind it, particularly when the issue was framed as an anti-terrorism measure. As President Obama continues his economic recovery plan, environmental sustainability and energy concerns remain at the forefront of public policy discussions.

This is a marked shift from previous characterizations of environmentalism. Far too many folks have associated the title “environmentalist” with stereotypical images of weak, overly sensitive, excessively emotional, and self-aggrandizing tree hugging liberals. To be eco-friendly, particularly among men, was to reject rugged individualism and other standard images of American masculinity. In other words, it meant accepting an emasculated identity.

I assumed the political rhetoric of equating eco-friendly policy with national security concerns would shift our national consciousness toward more left-leaning environmental policy. Judging from Volkswagon’s newest national TV ad spot, I think I was very, very wrong. Note the explicit, sexualized imagery, as the hybrid owner's limp hose is juxtaposed with the erect basketball hoop looming over the Volkswagon:



In the ad, the owner of the hybrid is ridiculed as less of a man based on the sound of his car’s engine. I know that this is a basic marketing strategy—I mean, just watch any Ford F-150 ad in the last twenty years. Still, I find this stereotype—measuring a man’s masculinity by the virility of his car—to be a little tired. I’m not sure what’s masculine about carbon emissions. Nor do I understand what’s masculine about global warming. And I just don’t see what’s masculine about overconsumption. I’d never try to dictate what kind of car another man drives, be it a truck, SUV, sedan or sports car. That’s fine. But what I won’t do is challenge a man’s masculinity based on how much gas his car does, or does not, waste. Why is environmental inefficiency a mark of masculinity?

Look, I can be a critic of many eco-friendly efforts, especially when they detract from more pressing concerns related to unemployment, housing, and access to public transit. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to mock an initiative to, say, plant gardens in urban neighborhoods. When I disagree with certain “green” policies (such as urban “shrinkage), it’s because I think they will have a negative effect on the lives of average Americans. When I refer to environmentalism as “political white privilege,” it’s because I think many environmentalists fail to acknowledge the privilege inherent in living eco-friendly lifestyles. While they debate the best way to get to work, far too many Americans—disproportionately of color—are without employment altogether.

But what I do not do is scoff at environmentalists for their lack of masculinity. Volkswagon has the freedom to make wasteful and environmentally damaging cars, but that doesn’t mean they can mock folks that choose alternative methods of transportation. To bask in your own wastefulness and wonton disregard for the healthy lives of others—as Volkswagon does when they mock hybrid owners—is to display a tremendous arrogance and selfishness.

I don’t think I’ll be buying a Volkswagon any time soon.

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.