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Way back when, I listed Fight Club as a special inclusion in my Top 50 Chick Flicks list. Here's why.

This was cross-posted in comments in a slightly different form at The Pundit's new blog in response to his post on anti-consumerism in Fight Club

Despite the rousing bravado of Tyler Durden’s speeches, Tyler-the-imaginary-character is really just a stand-in for aggressive masculinity and Fight Club ultimately mocks him by killing him off and presenting an ultimately feminist solution to the world’s ills. The entire movie is actually a paean to Marla Singer and the aggressive rebuttal to patriarchy that she represents—and Jack’s narration* demonstrates this. The movie presents Tyler’s anti-consumerism and neo-neanderthalic ideologies as cute and fun but ultimately trite and unworkable.

Marla, as Jack’s savior (she delivers him from his psychosis), source of strength (she’s his power animal), and anchor to reality (at least in the scope of the film), represents a return to matriarchy. The great danger that Tyler represents and hopes to force upon the the world is patriarchic anarchy, a return to hunter/gatherer reality, in which sex roles return to those classically defined. This is the film's central conflict. Tyler is the film's antagonist, though we like him.

Jack keys us in to Marla’s importance with the film’s opening in which he says, "All of this has got something to do with a girl named Marla Singer."** Immediately after, we see Jack nestled between Bob’s boobs, a representation of comfort and safety for him. The film climaxes with Jack’s victory over Tyler’s dream, all the while being prompted and inspired by Marla (whom he loathes but comes to cherish). The denouement, with the buildings collapsing is a blind. Most will see the destruction of the credit companies as a victory for Tyler, but it’s ultimately hollow. While the scene of destruction plays out, we hear Pixies singing "Where is my mind?" and we look and see that while Jack is certainly taking in the scene of destruction, his mind is on other matters. He has chosen Marla, not Tyler. Tyler states, "We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need." Jack affirms that it is.

And that is why the movie is about her.

But what is she? She is the ultimate egalitarian woman. Marla inhabits a world in which traditionally female roles have been subsumed by the men. (This is Tyler’s whole problem with consumer culture. Not that it’s driving fruitless needs and wants but that shopping is feminine and real men shouldn’t need consumerism.) In this world in which men encroach on female sex-roles, Marla responds in kind, taking on traditionally masculine aspects to herself. She is the aggressor in the sexual relationship. She is the one with the foul mouth. She is the one who is not fashion-conscious. And she is the one who talks sense while the men in the monkey house are wholly driven by the emotional appeal of Tyler’s message.

Marla is, in short, the new femininity. She has absorbed all sex-roles, taking what suits her, and begins to rule the world. Or at the least, Jack’s world. And part of Marla’s bid to absorb all sex-roles is her exchange of the formerly male/female consumer dynamic. In a world of effeminate men, she becomes the ideal not just for women but for men as well.

In the end, I don’t think the film cares about consumerism one way or another. The battle between consumerism and Tyler’s violent anti-consumerism was just a gimmick to express the war of genderization. The fact is, the film didn't really say anything about consumerism at all.

But let’s pretend that we’re to take Tyler’s points seriously. I think the film is right to not take his ideology too seriously. Consuming isn’t bad or wrong or harmful in itself. Thoughtless consumption is the problem. Tyler’s agenda, however, makes no allowances for this. And the big irony is that he is selling his ideology to born consumers. They eat it up. They want what he’s selling because that’s who they are, thoughtless consumers. Consumerism and commodification doesn’t stop with arbitrary economic units (a.k.a. money and money-purchaseable product), but it goes well into all aspects of life—and I can sell an idea or an image or a belief as easily as a car, only the rate of exchange doesn’t involve dollars.

p.s. I attribute my introduction to this view to Alex Bernhardt, whose article for the now defunct 24 frames per second website I first read around 2001 or so.

*note: We are never actually given the narrator's real name. I use "Jack" as a placeholder and take it from the series of children's books the narrator finds amongst rubbish (e.g., I Am Jack's Kidney) and later transforms into statements about his current frame of mind (e.g., I am Jack's raging bile duct).

**note: Oh yeah, and I was reminded that it helps the reading to remember that Tyler was on the scene before Jack was introduced to Marla—so one cannot read the opening line as a reference to the creation of Tyler (though it would be fascinating if Marla had been the catalyst for the creation of Tyler Durden).

Peddling Pescados?

Valerie the Curious quotes a curious piece by someone she calls Debbie Maken:

Women by their very nature and design instinctively know that they are made for the man. During the Reformation, there was a strain of thought that suggested that women could never have been called to remain single because they were "made for the man," (I. Cor. 11:9) and because all five characters in the Bible with lifelong celibacy produced singleness were all male. There is a loneliness, a floundering, an unexpressed longing to be whole, that is more acutely felt by women than men remaining single. Single women experience purposelessness....

Now every time I hear someone describing The Way It Is and they open with something along the lines of "by their very design and purpose," I start to get a little nervous. Certainly, there are appropriate appropriations of this kind of argument (e.g., people, by their very design, are meant to process oxygen), but those are rarely the kinds we see enter into this sort of discussion—a discussion of what women are like or what men are like. I'm not saying that every reference to design in reference to the sexes is offbase or inappropriate, but it's a pretty big warning sign that there's a rusty ol' hook in that shiny lure we're about to snap into our jaws.

And Maken doesn't disappoint.

It may be a presumption (as she doesn't state explicitly), but she seems to lean pretty heavily on a "strain of thought" from the Reformation era that seems less to do with anything actually thought out and more to do with whimsy and prejudgment. The idea that women cannot fulfill their purpose by remaining single is interesting and may bear scrutiny; but to ground a positive appraisal of the theory on gaunt evidences such as mentioned here is eyebrow-raising for sure. To say that women cannot be fulfilled in their singleness because they were "made for man" is as silly as implying that a man cannot be fulfilled in his singleness because God saw that he needed a helper and created woman to fulfill his need. If anything, the passages demonstrate that men have a greater need for women than women have for men.

And as if the author realized how much weaker the second proof is, but felt that any decent argument needs at least two evidence, she includes (trailing in arrears, as if ashamed to even be present, knowing full-well of its inadequacies) the sad, sad note that "all five characters in the Bible with lifelong celibacy-produced singleness were all male." Now let's ignore the fact that the purpose of the biblical narrative is nowhere to point out all the proper and acceptable life-paths for men and women... No nevermind. Let's not ignore that. Let's also not ignore that fact that women so rarely figure into the purpose of biblical narrative that a large majority of the time, their raison d'etre in the story is wholly (or maybe just primarily) due to their reproductive mechanic.

Let's also not ignore the fact that there are women in Scripture who have little problem fulfilling their Scriptural purpose apart from any marital interest. Deborah held a pivotal role in one aspect of the narrative and we know nothing about her marital state. Obviously, Scripture wasn't all that concerned with it.

If anything, the fact that five men in scripture led lifelong lives of good celibacy proves that women can as well (seeing as how men seem to need women as much or more than women need men, biblically speaking anyway).

Then in a classic statement of self-prioritization Maken states what she could not possibly know: "There is a loneliness, a floundering, an unexpressed longing to be whole, that is more acutely felt by women than men remaining single." While I'm sure all the single men who are pained by their bachelor state are ecstatic to be so duly dismissed by someone who could not possibly be an authority on their emotional state, I can happily report to men and women everywhere that Maken is makin' things up to suit her woeful purpose.

Then, surprisingly, Maken actually says something true: "Single women experience purposelessness." I cannot argue with this. I might however add a number of other equally true statements. Statements like Single men experience purposelessness or Married couples experience purposelessness. Or even less exclusive: People experience purposelessness. One might even be inclined to make equally true statements like Single women experience purpose or People experience purpose. All of these are true. People, both men and women, whatever their states, experience a range of things and among those things are either purpose or a lack of purpose or sometimes both simultaneously—which leads to the most common of human experiences: conflict.

Maken's real problem becomes here evident. She wants the pained single woman so badly to be special that she creates an exclusive club, an elite pity party that rivals the Mason's for the secrets it guards—secrets like dissatisfaction with life circumstances, a type of handshake that no other club can ever bear.

In the end, Valerie summarizes: "A woman without a man isn't like a fish without a bicycle; she's like a man without a job." To which I say, I would be stoked to be able to live without a job. I can't begin to tell you the number of things that a job keeps me from accomplishing. I think a better pithy saying (or at least more accurate, if not particularly pithy) would be: "A woman without a man is like a man without a woman; or even more likely, like a woman without a man."

More Christian than Alfalfa

Let me begin by exclaiming: Romantic Spanking Fiction?!?

Okay, so now that I've got that out of the system, I should let you know that somehow—through arts both arcane and implausible—I was directed to the most amazing website in the world. I couldn't believe my good fortune upon arriving at said site for it cured me for days of any potential blues that might have even threatened to overtake me. After all, who could feel bad or gloomy after finding that a site like Chirsitan Domestic Discipline dot Com exists.

I know I couldn't.

Boasting a plethora of material that is certain to enhance one's traditional marriage, you'd think that I wouldn't be particularly interested. And I thought the same after reading that description. But then I remembered the name of the site and knew there had to be something to it (marriage enhancements vs. domestic discipline initially sounded too disparate to be referring to the same thing). And that's when I noticed the banner that appears on every page of the site: Loving wife spanking in a Christian Marriage.

And while I'm certain there should be some sort of hyphenation in there (along with some capitalization help), I knew instinctively that I was on the trail to greatness. If only I would hang in there.

So hang in there, I did.

Christian Domestic Discipline dot Com is, in itself an amazing experience and I have yet to experience firsthand a single one of their products. The site, put together by a woman, is dedicated to corporal punishment of unsubmissive wives (and sexy pantaloons and healing herbal remedies). One of the chief products offered is a workbook by the site's founder on the matter of Consensual Christian Domestic Discipline. Let's listen in, shall we?

Just as a parent would never stop to ask permission to chastise his child, a husband should not have to obtain consent to discipline his wife; however, our legal system has put him in the position of having to do so. Just as our culture is turned upside down in so many other things, the traditional Christian marriage is no exception.

Some of the workbook's chapter headings are amusingly awkward and thrill the imagination. Especially helpful is the chapter on aftercare. Aftercare? Man, I got spanked a lot when I was a kid and I never once needed any sort of special care for the keister. Makes you wonder exactly what kind of knives are being used to spank these willful, strong-headed women? One of the last chapters is called, "Wife's Means of Voicing Opinions." I would imagine that the workbook doesn't suggest this be done through a duly-appointed attorney, so my curiosity is certainly piqued.

But speaking of aftercare, the site offers aftercare herbal remedies that make a good, sound thrashing seem almost worth seeking! "A satiny mixture of cooling aloe vera, conditioning glycerin, and healing arnica tincture, lightly scented with soothing cucumber mint, this breezy gel feels wonderful on your skin!" The instructions for the "Aftercare Cooling Gel," however, do include instructions that curdle my milk:

FOR EXTERNAL USE ONLY. DO NOT USE ON BROKEN OR NON-INTACT SKIN. DISCONTINUE USE IF REDNESS OR IRRITATION OCCURS

Non-intact skin? I guess that goes along with the idea of spanking with knives, but really—it's hard not to be aghast. It's additionally amusing that the instruction go in to specify that "this product makes no medical claims." You know, just in case you thought that they might offer something to stem the pain wrought by your well-earned and festering wounds. That would take all the fun out of beati-- er, disciplining one's wife.

But you know? I still haven't gotten to the real gem found in this virtual mine. Romantic spanking fiction.

It's true, I speak no lie. In her Books for Download section, Leah Kelley offers a couple non-fiction offering (presumably tutorial in nature, educating disciplinarians of, amongst other apropos topics, the best grip to use on one's hole-riddled paddle and/or flanged mace), but the real emphasis seems to center on novels, novellas, and short stories that work as tracts for Consensual Christian Domestic Discipline. These pedagogical devices are deemed "romantic spanking fiction" and seem to feature husbands with disobedient wives who then submit (willingly or not) to the rightful relationship between hand and heinie.

Here are some of my favourite book descriptions:

The Arrangement: A harried head of household learns that if he's to have peace in his home, he must discipline not only his wife but his widowed mother-in-law as well.

The Check: Clay left work early to surprise his wife with a nice evening out, but when he discovers an unusual piece of mail he may have to surprise her with a spanking instead.

To Train Up a Wife: Jason is tired of living in filth and eating fast food while his wife spends all her time volunteering at the church. When he accidentally witnesses his neighbor's method of training a wife, will he learn the secret of marital bliss?

And a wonderful excerpt from Bringing up Jenny:

Jenny's breath quickened, her eyes fastened to the strap. At least two feet long, it looked to be made of heavy rawhide. A quick glance around her showed she wasn't the only student imagining that strap wrapped painfully around their bottom. The room was almost ominously quiet as twenty-three pairs of somber adolescent eyes now faced the front.

And a breath-taking piece of work from God's Design:

Nikki tried to get up, but he held her close to him. "Mason, how can you say that you're not going to hurt me? Spankings hurt!"

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to spank you and there is a difference between the two. Your spanking will be on your bottom, which is one of the things God designed it for. Yes, it will hurt, but it will be temporary and hopefully prevent long-term hurt from coming to our relationship. Now, I am going to take down your panties and you are going to put yourself over my lap where I am going to give you a very sound spanking."

Nikki began to plead. "Please, Mason! Honey, I don't want a spanking."

"I know you don't, but I am a man of my word and whether you want to admit or not, we both know that you have needed this for quite awhile now."

Mason pulled Nikki to her feet and stood her in front of him. He began to reach under the hem of her black, knee-length skirt. His hands were sure and steady as he reached for the waistband of her panties. Frantically, Nikki began trying to push his hands away.

"Mason, pllllllleeeeaaassseee, don't pull them down. I don't want you to spank me. You can't!"

"Nicole! Listen to me. You ARE getting spanked and if you don't stop fighting me you will be feeling the back of that hairbrush on the table on your backside instead of my hand."

For the first time, Nikki noticed a large wooden hairbrush on the coffee table in front of them.

"Are you going to cooperate?" he asked gently.

And I'm barely scratching the surface here. This stuff is the work of diabolical genius. And fortunately, for both the squeamish and the fetishistic, each listed work features a warning, alerting potential readers of just how drastic the level of spanking is. Typical warning read: contains mild-to-moderate spanking; contains moderate spanking; contains severe spanking. You know, so you can find just the right level of corporal punishment you're comfortable with and see it modelled through thoroughly realistic dialogue and narrative. Or something.

I think the thing that really gets my goat is that these polemical tools are aimed squarely at a female audience. The goal is to convince women that they need a good spanking every so often to keep them on the straight and narrow. And as little as I appreciate the horrifying ideal that we should submit our women to regular disciplinary beatings, I'm even less enamoured with the unspoken idea that it's women who need to be convinced of this rather than men—as if the moment a wife comes around and says, "Honey, I'm convinced. You need to spank me when I'm bad," a husband will happily breathe a sigh of relief, pick up the strap of rawhide he's kept hidden in his sock drawn, and say, "Baby, you have no idea how long I've been hoping that you'd come around. Christ be praised!"

Blech. I hate what people do in the name of my faith.

---

Note: I have no idea what the title mentioning Alfalfa refers to now. I came up with the idea and the masthead a few weeks ago but didn't end up writing the post 'til this week and have just plain forgotten. Still, I like the title so I kept it. Cool points to the person who comes up with the best explanation for the title.

Randomocity

Thing One:
Why do feminists have to hate fish so? Why can't they just leave their poor bicycles alone?

Thing Two:
This is the cover for the mixtape CD I'm making for our CD club.

Thing Three:
I love/adore the antics of fringey Bible people. Missler would be proud?

Thing Four:

EVE's mired in the space equivalent of a world war. After the JumpGate story broke, all but a few of the big alliances in the game declared war on BoB, the alliance who benefited from the cheating devs. BoB controls the southwestern corner of the map, and they're defending pushes from the southeast and northwest. They've committed the majority of their forces up north, so their strongest ally in the south, Lotka Volterra, is getting crushed by a RedSwarm attack. I'm just doing my part, zipping around in interceptor-class ships during 200-man fleet engagements and leading small groups behind enemy lines to harass supply lines and the like. It's pretty fun, kinda like raiding in WoW, only you're always moving and the things you do have an impact on the world around you.

—The Escapist

I find this stuff utterly fascinating. I played EVE Online for a week once on a free trial they offered and found it to be a gorgeous game that I'm sure wouldn't have been all that boring if I persevered and become a rad space pirate or something (unfortunately, I didn't continue with the game and only content myself with reading about all the crazy stuff that happens in it).

EVE is fascinating because it's one of the most truly boundary-free games I've ever heard of. It's got PvP play like PvP play should be. It also encourages the building of huge corporate structures by which players can truly make their mark on the game. EVE also exists in a persistent environment, and one that can be affected by its players.

So, currently, in this online space-game involving battlecruisers and mining ships and whatnot, a recent scandal involving the in-game mega corporation, BoB, has caused other megacorporations to declare war on the entity. Now, BoB is just made up of regular joe players like me or you (if we were playing EVE and more than slightly addicted to it). So are the members of the corporations that are declaring war on BoB. And this is the thing, if BoB loses and is crushed by these other groups, their assets - I guess - can be stripped and stolen from them just like in real life. That's what fascinates me. It's kinda like real life - only with 200-man space fleets.

1. Lesson: PvP stands for Player vs. Player and is used especially to describe those online games in which one person has the ability to challenge other live players.

2. Lesson: Persistent environment means that the game never stops running and continues even after you've logged off. If you leave your character off floating in space, he'll be right there when you come back; but he may not be in one piece if some ne'er-do-well came across him while you were out.

The Lovely Rape: Rape in The Lovely Bones

[obviously, spoilerfication]

One book, two rapes. How's that for a bargain. I almost said three rapes, but then I remembered that I was a consenting adult and did indeed willingly part with my ten bucks or whatever, and so my wallet wasn't really raped. Though after finishing the book, it kinda feels like it was.

The book in question is Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones. I'm not giving anything away by saying it's a book about a girl (the narrator) who was murdered. That's revealed in the book's second sentence. It's also not a big deal to let you know she was raped and murdered by a neighbour, George Harvey. That all is related pretty early on. What isn't revealed until maybe the last fifty pages is that the girl herself, Susie Salmon, becomes a rapist.

Ideologically, I'm not certain which one is worse. I could be persuaded.

But the way the book presents the two incidents is markedly different. One is revealed in low lights and has a horror edge to it. It's seen unilaterally as an evil, wicked deed. The other is the book's highlight, the moment at which the author breathes a sigh of relief and says that everything else made right. I suppose it makes sense; the narrator probably wouldn't see her actions for what they were. But in the end, both George and Susie deal with their childhood victimizations in that manner typical to the criminal genre these days.

Both George and Susie had horrible things happen in their formative years that leave long-lasting scars. The only difference is that George Harvey lived and Susie Salmon died. Not that it makes much difference. Susie is as alive a character as George for the purposes of the story. They both want what they want and care little for the well-being of the women who get in their way. The difference is that George Harvey is portrayed as the villain he is, while little Susie Salmon is treated as a hero.

Those who have read the book may not have even noticed Susie's completely abandonment of moral sense or care for the woman she violates. After all, she doesn't exactly couch things in those terms. So here it is, laid out for you.

When Susie was alive, there was a boy who liked her, Ray. In the years after her death, Ray grows up to be, in the narrator's view, an attractive young man. She watches him and loves him. Somehow, events conspire to allow Susie to possess the body of Ruth, a friend of Ray's. Susie uses the opportunity to seduce Ray and they make love several times in the course of a few hours. And then Susie has to go back to heaven. Leaving Ruth, a victim of Susie's power over her body.

Imagine that you're Ruth. You wake up. Naked. Probably a little tender. Used. In the back of some bike shop. With a man in the shower. That's what I call horror. Not only was she not conscious or aware for any of the immediately preceding events, but the guy who's been really her only friend in the world is now naked and telling her that he screwed her brains out while she was unconscious. And even if he doesn't tell her that, there's a very short rail of evidence and it all points to that conclusion. And now. She could be pregnant. She could be diseased.

Yep. The crowning act of love on the part of the tale's heroine is little more than a petty, rapacious act of power over the helpless woman who got in her way. Good job Susie Salmon. You and George Harvey should get along nicely.

p.s. even though I called it a spoiler, I think that Alice Sebold spoiled the book. Not me.

other p.s. the title of this post refers, obviously, to Susie's rape of Ruth, not George's rape of Susie.

</minxSexism>

If paying attention to a segment of feminist-blogging diaspora has demonstrated one thing more unassailably to my mind that anything else, it's this: despite best intentions to the contrary, people are people - and as such are flawed. And one of those evident flaws is seen readily in the fact that people are uncomfortable with whatever it is they deem to be Other.

If you count sex as a difference, then you predispose yourself toward sexism. If you count race as a difference, then you predispose yourself toward racism. If age, then ageism. If nationality, then nationalism. If religion, then creedalism. If you are ego-centric like me, then you are predisposed toward misanthropy. I suppose it's only natural - and so, understandable - that one who sees himself as distinct from another group would predispose himself to treating unfairly members of this group.

This doesn't mean it's right. Only that we should expect it.

And so, as frustrating as it is to read, there is no reason I shouldn't have expected sexism to be nearly so rampant in the conversations I've been reading. From both males and females. And yet it did surprise me for some reason.

I suppose it was simple naivety on my part to imagine that many of those calling for equality would not themselves be guilty of sexism. I mean, I am, for all intents and purposes, an egalitarian and I catch myself in hypocrisies from time to time - so I don't know why I believed it should be different with others.

In any case, I thought I'd reflect on some of the common inadequacies in some of the discussions I've come across in this particular niche of the discussion: sexism and comics.

Much of this came about in respect to a new line of comics that will be marketed toward a young female demographic. This new line, Minx, and will be produced by DC Comics (the Batman and Superman company); and out of something like nine writers and artists for the new line, only two of these are women. The producers of the line (women themselves), in an effort to clam the minds of many who were already crying foul play, promise that they tried to more women involved but the women they wanted were either unavailable, not interested, or didn't pitch an acceptable book.

So that's the set-up. And I know you're dying to hear about the sexism, so here we go.

Women Seeking Women
One commenter, a strong voice of feminism-in-comic circles, says,

I also seek out authors of my own gender because my experience has been that I’m more likely to get a voice that I can relate to. You may not care about the gender of the authors you read, but consider that that’s not true for everyone.

Another says:

It’s the difference between "this is written/drawn for me and it’s nice" and "this is written/drawn for me and it could have been written/drawn BY me because I can really identify with the women doing it."

There are two things going on here: 1) a marketing truth - that people buy stuff from people that are similar to them; and 2) sexism. The first isn't all that interesting, but the second piques my curiosity.

For the sake of argument what would we say if you gave me a book and, before telling you what I thought about it, I asked if the author was black? Because, you know, I have a hard time relating to blacks. What we would say is that I am a racist jerk and that by saying I cannot relate to someone because their pigmentation differs from mine, I am really just lowering them to the level of an entirely different kind of creature. I am no longer treating black people as human; they are now Other.

This is what's happening here. It is being suggested that men cannot write believable women (and I presume, conversely, that women cannot write believable men). Or maybe, to state better, men can't write women as believably as women can (and vice versa). For the authors of these comments, men are no longer people in the same sense that women are - they are Other.

And that is a sexist notion. (For more on the topic, please refer to my Y: The Last Man article discussing the topic.)

Thar's Condescension in Them Thar Hills

Many readers, mostly male, have said that this not-enough-women-thing is silly, there should be no gender quotas, blah blah blah. It’s easy to say there should be no quotas when you’re on the winning side.

It’s interesting that most (but not all) of the people who are saying it’s okay that the line is mostly men because art should be gender neutral are MEN. Interesting but hardly surprising.

And one commenter says in response to some poor sap who said he didn't understand where all the rage on the issue was coming from,

Rage? More like exasperation, which, as a fella, are unlikely to ever have to understand.

Nearbout a year ago, when I first started perusing comics blogs with anything approaching what we might term, "in earnest," I came across Kalinara's very pink site. One of the first posts there I ever commented on dealt with feminism, sexism, et cetera. I was hesitant and self-deprecating, remembering past incidents in which being the, quote-unquote, privileged majority rendered any point I made a moot one. I had always been frustrated that I was perceived as a white, American male simply because it kept me from being viewed as a person. Instead, I was nearly always perceived as The Man - or some sort of herald to Said Man.

Kalinara, however, said it didn't matter and that ideas were ideas and she didn't care about my chromosome status. Or something like that. It was refreshing. And smart. Because chromosomes don't matter when it's ideas that are on the table.

Yet despite Kalinara's willingness to put sexism behind her, others are not so aicable to the concept. Or maybe they're find with the concept but find the practice more difficult. In any case, every last person who says that men cannot understand an issue like this by virtue of the fact of their "privilege" is wallowing in sexism. They are guilelessly wading through tar pits of that muck they're swearing their lives to do away with.

This is interesting, but not surprising. Not because they're women, but because they're people. And people are thoroughly flawed and are usually of two or three or nine minds at any given time. To restate a Frank, despite everything, I believe that people are really lame at heart.

Sexism and My Super Ex-Girlfriend

As the topic of feminism (and the tangentials of sexism and misogyny) has come to interest me slightly, I thought I would discuss a particular point made in a discussion I mostly read by Tom Foss. In a largely well-thought-out post, he notes a recent accusation of misogyny in Uma Thurman's character in the film, My Super Ex-Girlfriend—a character who becomes a nightmarish stalker for flaccid Luke Wilson. Tom remarks:

I'm assuming here that the charges were made against the portrayal of Uma Thurman's character, G-Girl, a superheroine who is, among other things, clingy, emotionally unstable, manipulative, and prone to jealousy, all traits stereotypically associated with women.

My quibble here is minor, but one that I think presents an important note to the conversation. Clinginess, emotional instability, a propensity toward manipulation, and an inclination toward jealousy are not actually stereotypes of women—but are certainly stereotypes of Evil Ex-Girlfriends^tm. While G-Girl is probably guilty of wallowing in cliche, I think it mistaken to deposit her in the lap of female cliche as such. Most women in literature or in the national perspective are not viewed as these things—but in difficult ex-girlfriends, these traits are certainly cliche.

If My Super Ex-Girlfirend has anything to apologize for, it's not sexism (or worse, misogyny). More likely, it simply needs to say I'm sorry for trafficking in tired, lifeless writing and an undue reliance upon trite cliche. But then maybe not, how many guys have had ex-girlfriends who proved to be "clingy, emotionally unstable, manipulative, and prone to jealousy"? I know I have. (p.s. if you're one of my ex-girlfriends and you're reading this, I'm talking about one of the others. not you. never you.) It's kinda like the cliched ex-boyfriend who's abusive, possessive, and passive aggressive to the hilt? How many women have known that guy? I know that at various times in the past I have fulfilled the Passive Aggressive portion of that bill (really, I'm all better now. I promise.).

I think the reason we see those cliches crop up more often in literature is that a messy breakup has more intrinsic drama going on in it. Sure, my cleaner breakups has exactly as much drame going on in reality—but that was all underneath everything and wouldn't be easy to draw out in a story without a million-and-three thought bubbles. So maybe lazy writing is the culprit? Or maybe, as readers, we prefer to read about people in freaky situations so we can smugly go, "There but by the grace of God..." and continue enjoying our piña coladas from the safety of our poolside lawnchairs. Or something.

The Problem with Feminism

(well, not feminism per se - but a particular kind or expression of feminism)

Ah yes, you guessed it. Another post about comics. Er, feminism. Er, comics. Er, well hmm. To read around the comics blogs I happen to frequent, it kinda seems like the two are inexorably linked. Okay, really, this is more about feminism and authorship than about comics, but I will use comics as a jump-off point.

For those of you unawares, there is a book by a man, Brian K. Vaughan (and illustrated by a woman, Pia Guerra), called Y: The Last Man. Vaughan has crafted a fascinating story of a world in which the entire planet's male populations (whether human or lower on the food chain) instantly die, coughing up blood and collapsing. All the males save for Yorick Brown and his pet monkey, Ampersand. They mysteriously survive. Really, the premise sounds like the beginnings of some crude sort of Kevin Smith film, yet Vaughan charts the travels of Yorick through this courageous new world with skill and imagination.

Y: The Last Man is of that very best kind of science fiction - the kind that presents the standards of society and forces you to question them and consider their weight without (and this is the important part) rendering judgment itself. The best science fiction makes you think. It causes one to reevaluate his mores and his assumptions about his world.

With a subject as ripe for exploitation as a tale of a single man left alone with a world of women, Vaughan exerts considerable restraint. While his characters are indeed sexual beings (even as we are), they are always first and foremost individuals (even as we are). There are women who can't live without their men. There are women who rejoice in the worldwide plague that killed the men. There are those who take stock of their lives and move on as they might. There are those who take charge, those who acquiesce, those who are violent, those who are scientists. Really, every kind of individual you could think of exists as denizen of this new kind of life. And their ideologies are equally diverse.

Still, the main character is Yorick. Well, Yorick and his two companions on his quest (Y: The Last Man really plays off as more a roadtrip/quest story than as anything else), genetic scientist, Allison Mann, and secret agent, 355. We see things largely from Yorick's point of view as he witnesses just how the world has changed in malekind's notable absence. Personally, I think it's the right perspective from which to approach the storyline (in a similar story in which all women save for one perished, I would certainly want to see that world from the perspective of the woman). This is not to say that the women's perspective on things is ever ignored - quite the opposite in truth - but only to say that Vaughan's narrative reference is this lone man.

And here's where the feminism comes in. (You thought I'd never get to it.)

I'm going to pick on a post by Franny at So So Silver Age, only because its handy. The perspective she offers isn't unique and I've seen it presented by a number of women and men over the years (and the issue she brings up crosses over into other social categories as well - notably ethnic and less notably creedal, national, and age-related categories). In short, Y: The Last Man makes her angry. Why?

It seems that despite the fact that she generally agrees that Vaughan does a good job with the book (and with presenting the circumstances without the sexist overtones that one might expect in such a story), she still finds something over which to be outraged. Her problem is that Brian K. Vaughan, because he is a man, has no business writing the kind of story he's writing. In her own words:

Brian K. Vaughan is a man, and despite ideological and artistic intentions, his male privilege (the unspoken benefits of being male, invisible to people who grow up as men in our society but highly visible to those who do not have them) makes it inherently biased.

It is a well put together series. The apparatus works. I read it. But it still makes me furious.

I retain my righteous anger that women should be the ones to write about what women would do if left to their own purposes in an unmanned world.

Now, I'm not interested in critiquing Franny so much as I am interested in looking at the perspective she advocates. And where it falls short.

There are a lot of directions from which one could approach the argument, but let's start by looking at the nature of most fiction. Despite the typical advice to young writers, one simply cannot write what one knows and have a successful career as a writer. Instead, we write what we can imagine. It's true that the better our imagination conforms to the sense of reality to which our audience holds, the better able they are to believe in our writing. Still, any time the author writes a character that is not him, he is making things up. Fabricating. Writing a foreigner.

The perspective that governs Franny's thoughts here (and indeed, those of at least a subsection of feminists) is one that makes the foreigner off-limits to the author. As you may realize, this is severely limiting to storytelling.

I should never be able to tell a story with a fifty-year old because I am not yet fifty. And for me to presume to represent a fifty-year-old with my fiction should outrage all those who either are fifty or have been fifty in the past. Because theirs are shoes in which I have never walked. How can I possibly characterize accurately a person who carries the weight and wisdom and experience of so many years? In Franny's perspective - if held consistently - I cannot. Neither can I write villains, cab drivers, Roman Catholics, atheists, British, Asians, jocks, schoolteachers, or parents.

I can only use imagination and reasonably deduce what an individual in any of those life circumstances would do, think, believe, or say. Actually, the same holds true for if I were writing my brother as a character in a story. Of course I'm going to be importing my biases, my beliefs about my subjects, my life experiences, and my culture into my storytelling. And yet, even as much as my skills at literary craft, my ability to write believable characters is what will label me a Good Author or a Bad Author.

According to the ideal Franny presents, there really shouldn't be any stories featuring more than one character, since all characters save for the author's cypher are as foreign to the author as female characters are to a male author - one like Brian K. Vaughan.

Really, perspectives like this aren't doing any favours for those who have legitimate concerns for the treatment of their sex by authors. There are a host of issues regarding women in literature and in comics that ought to be addressed. It's too bad there are idealogies undermining valuable critique in this way.