The B-Word
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I've been disappointed in the last few weeks by mars on two pieces of entertainment I otherwise really enjoyed. The new Harry Potter book and the new Die Hard movie have so much going for them: great action, great storytelling, life lessons, and big hearts. But I had a moment of disappointment, like a small bit of nausea, when out of nowhere one of the good guys in each story comes out with it: the B-word.
I know this female epithet is all over pop culture, but it's disappointing to see it in two works that otherwise have tried to hard to promote good values, to be wholesome in the best sense of the word. And it confirms what's always seemed glaringly obvious: that women are still the only "oppressed group" whom it is perfectly acceptable to belittle in liberal culture. Because really it's no different from the N-word: it's a hostile, nasty insult that is directed at that portion of an individual's identity that's perceived to be vulnerable, that's been a source of historic oppression, and whose use carries with it a little stinging reminder of that oppression. It is, after all, directed particularly at women who are exerting power, who are challenging, who have been uppity.
Women have embraced this term too, in either an act of defiance and attempt at reclamation (much like the N-word in the black community today), an unconscious absorption into the dominant culture (think of the black families who used to laugh along to "Amos and Andy" back in their day), or maybe an uneasy capitulation---because acting like it's no big deal seems safer than calling it out and being mocked and targeted in return. But that just allows the continued charade that it's harmless, no big deal, not hostile, not insulting.
It was a great moment earlier this year when Don Imus was fired for calling the members of that women's basketball team "nappy-headed ho's." In a culture in which we're increasingly told to believe that meanness is the essence of wit, that the ability to insult is the hallmark of a hip consciousness, it was important to have that moment of opposition and resistance. But do any of us believe that without the "nappy-headed" portion of that insult---the racial aspect---Don Imus wouldn't be sitting behind his mike today? Do any of us believe that, had Michael Richards called a female audience member the B-word instead of a black audience member the N-word, it would have made national news? Please; it happens every day, and it's only the most naive, the most ridiculous, the most humorless among us who would dare to object.
"It's hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head," feminist Sally Kempton noted. And women are the ones with the most outposts by far. Other groups have experienced that mental colonization too, but it seems it's only women who, as a whole, as a people, haven't faced up to the full reality of it. Racial minorities, sexual minorities, they KNOW . . . they know the fight and they resist.
Most women are, on the other hand, are still collaborators. That's probably because of the unique geometry of women's oppression. Each type of group oppression has its specs---the relational architecture that make for its own particular hardships and relief. For racial and ethnic minorities, that may be that (at least in the past) their entire community was under siege and thus had little outside help or resources; and yet their family group and neighborhood groups, the ones with which they shared the greatest intimacy, was united. For gays, the gay individual might be the only member of his or her family who was experiencing the oppressed identity and thus had a special loneliness; and yet, for those with good families, this meant that they had built-in army from the "other camp" who loved them and would fight for them.
For women the difficulty, I think, is that the "oppressing group" is also the group upon whom their intimate happiness relies. Their hope of romantic love, of family life, of those things that mean the most in life, are intimately entwined with their very oppressors. And the threat of denial is powerful. Even college in the 1980s, when I mentioned that I would never change my name after marriage, a guy in my group of friends looked me right in the eyes and said, with a quietness that was threatening rather than caring, "You'll never get a husband if you have that attitude."
I'm calling men "oppressors" and I realize how dramatic that seems. Of course times are changing, and most men I know are quite lovely and quite egalitarian. The problem is not that men are bad or any worse than women. The problem is that in past times---and in many places still---everyday men, of every social strata, have a great stake in women's oppression. It means that they can keep high-paying jobs while women have low-paying ones. It means that, though both may work, it's the woman who will come home and make the meal at the end of the day. It means that a man's day of labor may last from 8 to 5, but a woman's may never end. Read a book like "The Bookseller of Kabul" or see a movie like "The Magdalene Sisters" or "North Country." Things have been, and are, much worse than we imagine.
There's so much more I could write, but that will have to wait for another day. But for now, do your part; make a gesture; make your small difference: Get mad when somebody uses the B-word.
-
I've been disappointed in the last few weeks by mars on two pieces of entertainment I otherwise really enjoyed. The new Harry Potter book and the new Die Hard movie have so much going for them: great action, great storytelling, life lessons, and big hearts. But I had a moment of disappointment, like a small bit of nausea, when out of nowhere one of the good guys in each story comes out with it: the B-word.
I know this female epithet is all over pop culture, but it's disappointing to see it in two works that otherwise have tried to hard to promote good values, to be wholesome in the best sense of the word. And it confirms what's always seemed glaringly obvious: that women are still the only "oppressed group" whom it is perfectly acceptable to belittle in liberal culture. Because really it's no different from the N-word: it's a hostile, nasty insult that is directed at that portion of an individual's identity that's perceived to be vulnerable, that's been a source of historic oppression, and whose use carries with it a little stinging reminder of that oppression. It is, after all, directed particularly at women who are exerting power, who are challenging, who have been uppity.
Women have embraced this term too, in either an act of defiance and attempt at reclamation (much like the N-word in the black community today), an unconscious absorption into the dominant culture (think of the black families who used to laugh along to "Amos and Andy" back in their day), or maybe an uneasy capitulation---because acting like it's no big deal seems safer than calling it out and being mocked and targeted in return. But that just allows the continued charade that it's harmless, no big deal, not hostile, not insulting.
It was a great moment earlier this year when Don Imus was fired for calling the members of that women's basketball team "nappy-headed ho's." In a culture in which we're increasingly told to believe that meanness is the essence of wit, that the ability to insult is the hallmark of a hip consciousness, it was important to have that moment of opposition and resistance. But do any of us believe that without the "nappy-headed" portion of that insult---the racial aspect---Don Imus wouldn't be sitting behind his mike today? Do any of us believe that, had Michael Richards called a female audience member the B-word instead of a black audience member the N-word, it would have made national news? Please; it happens every day, and it's only the most naive, the most ridiculous, the most humorless among us who would dare to object.
"It's hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head," feminist Sally Kempton noted. And women are the ones with the most outposts by far. Other groups have experienced that mental colonization too, but it seems it's only women who, as a whole, as a people, haven't faced up to the full reality of it. Racial minorities, sexual minorities, they KNOW . . . they know the fight and they resist.
Most women are, on the other hand, are still collaborators. That's probably because of the unique geometry of women's oppression. Each type of group oppression has its specs---the relational architecture that make for its own particular hardships and relief. For racial and ethnic minorities, that may be that (at least in the past) their entire community was under siege and thus had little outside help or resources; and yet their family group and neighborhood groups, the ones with which they shared the greatest intimacy, was united. For gays, the gay individual might be the only member of his or her family who was experiencing the oppressed identity and thus had a special loneliness; and yet, for those with good families, this meant that they had built-in army from the "other camp" who loved them and would fight for them.
For women the difficulty, I think, is that the "oppressing group" is also the group upon whom their intimate happiness relies. Their hope of romantic love, of family life, of those things that mean the most in life, are intimately entwined with their very oppressors. And the threat of denial is powerful. Even college in the 1980s, when I mentioned that I would never change my name after marriage, a guy in my group of friends looked me right in the eyes and said, with a quietness that was threatening rather than caring, "You'll never get a husband if you have that attitude."
I'm calling men "oppressors" and I realize how dramatic that seems. Of course times are changing, and most men I know are quite lovely and quite egalitarian. The problem is not that men are bad or any worse than women. The problem is that in past times---and in many places still---everyday men, of every social strata, have a great stake in women's oppression. It means that they can keep high-paying jobs while women have low-paying ones. It means that, though both may work, it's the woman who will come home and make the meal at the end of the day. It means that a man's day of labor may last from 8 to 5, but a woman's may never end. Read a book like "The Bookseller of Kabul" or see a movie like "The Magdalene Sisters" or "North Country." Things have been, and are, much worse than we imagine.
There's so much more I could write, but that will have to wait for another day. But for now, do your part; make a gesture; make your small difference: Get mad when somebody uses the B-word.
-
posted by Anonymous at
10:10 PM
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