Showing posts with label feminism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feminism. Show all posts
Friday, January 6, 2012
Unnatural Selection
I could try and review Mara Hvistendahl's Unnatural Selection. Or I could just link to the WSJ review which says everything I want to say about it, but much more eloquently and succinctly. Because I'm lazy like that, and also trying to pull together an application for an honors program that's due in a week and a half. Hvistendahl is thought-provoking, although I was distracted from the thoughts she provokes by her left-wing/feminist bias, like trying to enjoy Bach with a mosquito buzzing in my ear. She realizes that there is this tragedy taking place, this "gendericide" of pre-born girls, but fails to connect the dots from the oh-so-sacred woman's right to choose (choose death, that is) and women choosing to abort female fetuses. If a woman can choose to abort because of Down syndrome, mental health or family size, why not gender?
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Where Have All the Good Men Gone?
After reading an excerpt from Kay Hymowitz' "Manning Up: How the Rise of Women Has Turned Men into Boys" in the Wall Street Journal, I was intrigued, placed it on hold at the library and added it to my ever-growing summer reading list. It sounded like an interesting premise, and judging from the excerpt, a pretty even-handed treatment of the topic. Did it live up to its promise? Weeeellllllll.... It's certainly one of the most interesting books I've read in a while.
Hymowitz starts out with her definition of the "preadult", the 20-something who's half child, half adult, stranded between school and a solid career. How did we get to the preadult? Hymowitz lays out two primary factors, the Industrial and Sexual Revolutions. One changed the culture's idea of work and its purpose, creating the free-time necessary for a college degree and its resultant "knowledge economy jobs"; the other completely changed the script when it came to marriage, family and children. From this basis, Hymowitz examines how women have flourished in this new career playing field. Not surprising, since the technological advancements of the Industrial Revolution freed women from much of the domestic drudgery and the Sexual Revolution "liberated" women from children and a husband. Men on the other hand? They've retreated to their man-caves with a beer in one hand and a remote in the other. Think Knocked Up, beer pong, frat parties and Adam Sandler movies, among other things. Why?
Is it because women were the primary beneficiaries of the two Revolutions? Did second-wave feminists raise daughters to aggressively pursue degrees and careers that were once the sole province of men? Or are women just better at the knowledge-based career world that bloomed in the last half of the 20th century? Hymowitz explores all of these possibilities, as well as what the preadult phenomenon has meant for men and women in the boardroom and the bedroom. She ends her book by acknowledging that, while most women seem to still desire marriage and children, the growing bloc of "choice mothers" (those who employ sperm banks instead of the crude child-man) will probably become the norm. She ends by stating that
"men may have lost the clarity of previous eras' script for growing up, but that does not mean that the only alternative is to hang out in a playground of drinking, hooking up, playing Halo 3, and underachieving. They can still choose to keep their eyes on the things that will lead to a meaningful life."
In other words, it's the guys' fault for not adapting and evolving to fit this new model of society where women don't really need them as husband, father or breadwinner. And yet puzzlingly enough, in the next paragraph, Hymowitz acknowledges that "with nobody expecting anything of them, men get worse." That's right, man, I don't really need you because I am woman, hear me roar. I have a satisfying career, a chic apartment, friends, everything I need. Well, actually I kinda need your sperm cause I want kids. But I don't want you cause you're gross and crude and immature. Somehow, Hymowitz fails to see the connection between the evaporation of the expectations placed on men by the previous societal life-script and the resultant slob who appeared after women decided that they didn't really need men performing in their traditional roles.
One other thing that bothered me: besides Hymowitz' obviously irritating stance that contraception did women a favor by "liberating" them from children, I also threw my hands heavenward over her dichotomy of the guys women date (or don't date, as the case were). She gives the reader two types: the sensitive, so-called-nice guy*, who's thoughtful and in touch with his feminine side, supposedly the ideal man in a post-feminist-revolt world; the other is the man's man (as Hymowitz defines him), the kind of guy who notches his bedpost and uses something called "Game" to score women without a shred of feeling. She sees no middle ground between these two kinds of men, and finds it somewhat puzzling that women don't seem to be attracted to the sensitive man, but are rather drawn to the so-called macho man. I found it most irritating that she defined the manly man, the man's man, as the slimeball in the second example. That is not a manly man; that is a cad (<== lovely, descriptive word, that). Ascribing such things as "respect" and "care" to her "nice guy", Hymowitz paints a picture of the manly man as an arrogant, neanderthal jerk. And that's just not true. Neither of her two options sound at all appealing, and I've had just enough experience with guys to know that there's a third type, the gentleman, and with all due respect to Ms. Hymowitz and her well-placed indignation over the Gamers, that's the kind of man I want.
So while I found "Manning Up" to be a fairly informative if somewhat frenetic attempt to cover all the bases, Hymowitz' failure to offer any satisfying conclusion to the question she poses disappointed me. I did enjoy reading the book. It's not your typical summer read, but it has offered me quite a bit to think about.
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*Nice?! *snorts of indignation* One such "nice" guy that she quotes is miffed because "you [the average preadult woman] ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy." Yeah. Cause I call a guy nice when he gives me emotional satisfaction only with the ultimate expectation that I'll sleep with him. Good call on that definition of nice, Ms. Hymowitz
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Sunday, July 18, 2010
The Glass Windshield
Members of Femininity Summit 2010, readers of this blog, I humbly submit the following thoughts about feminism's betrayal of the American woman:
A woman can now choose to become a doctor, a lawyer, a plumber, the local garbageman -- even to seek election as President of these United States. But if you glance behind the steering wheel of a Mustang or a Corvette, what are you going to see? A man. Behind the wheel of a BMW? An old man. Feminists may prattle on about glass ceilings in the realms of art, writing, politics, or academia, about salary disparities, lack of career options, or "the oppressive patriarchy" which has apparently stifled us for centuries, but the real barrier that women face isn't a glass ceiling at all -- it is a windshield. Why aren't women out on the streets, the top down on their Porsche 911? Why aren't feminists concerned over this disparity of female to male motorists? The fact is, respected readers, that I smell a conspiracy.
If the feminists of America, yea, even of the world, were really so very anxious about the complete and total equality of the sexes, they would not stop with the apparent autonomy that many women now revel in. They would not rest until we had gained an equal representation in all aspects of life, including the driver's seat. Instead, they remain mute on this issue, which leads me to wonder whether they are lining their pockets at the expense of their sisters in the field. Most car manufacturing companies are controlled by men, after all, and what would suit their interests more than a dearth of female drivers? Feminists claim that they seek this total equality of the sexes, yet I have not read one article or essay, heard one interview that addresses this most grievous of inequalities. And where else would feminists get the money to pay for all of those hideous pantsuits?
So, my fellow women, do not accept these red herrings of women's ordination or reproductive rights. Demand from them what you truly deserve: a Lamborghini Murcielago.
A woman can now choose to become a doctor, a lawyer, a plumber, the local garbageman -- even to seek election as President of these United States. But if you glance behind the steering wheel of a Mustang or a Corvette, what are you going to see? A man. Behind the wheel of a BMW? An old man. Feminists may prattle on about glass ceilings in the realms of art, writing, politics, or academia, about salary disparities, lack of career options, or "the oppressive patriarchy" which has apparently stifled us for centuries, but the real barrier that women face isn't a glass ceiling at all -- it is a windshield. Why aren't women out on the streets, the top down on their Porsche 911? Why aren't feminists concerned over this disparity of female to male motorists? The fact is, respected readers, that I smell a conspiracy.
If the feminists of America, yea, even of the world, were really so very anxious about the complete and total equality of the sexes, they would not stop with the apparent autonomy that many women now revel in. They would not rest until we had gained an equal representation in all aspects of life, including the driver's seat. Instead, they remain mute on this issue, which leads me to wonder whether they are lining their pockets at the expense of their sisters in the field. Most car manufacturing companies are controlled by men, after all, and what would suit their interests more than a dearth of female drivers? Feminists claim that they seek this total equality of the sexes, yet I have not read one article or essay, heard one interview that addresses this most grievous of inequalities. And where else would feminists get the money to pay for all of those hideous pantsuits?
So, my fellow women, do not accept these red herrings of women's ordination or reproductive rights. Demand from them what you truly deserve: a Lamborghini Murcielago.
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