Showing posts with label Masculinity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Masculinity. Show all posts

Friday, October 12, 2018

Is the "Perfect" Male Really "Perfect"?

While reading The Stranger one of the things that was most prevalent to me was the way that Meursault acted around other people. He seems to be almost emotionless, and to be lead by reason but not desire. In his relationship with Marie he seems to only desire her sexually and not emotionally. For example when Meursault is on trial and Marie is testifying he doesn't describe how he feels emotionally away from her. He only describes how she looks. He states "Marie entered. He had put on a hat and she was still beautiful. But I liked her better with her hair loose. From where I was sitting, I could just make out the slight fullness of her breasts, and I recognized the little pout of her lower lip." Here he is only describing the way she looks physically and there is no emotion attached to that.

I think the way that Meursault is described is very similar to the way that a "typical" male is supposed to act. They are supposed to be emotionally detached and not show that they care really about anything. The woman is always supposed to follow the mans lead and do what he says. This is almost the relationship between Marie and Meursault.

This book almost exposes the faultiness of the "typical" man, and why one should not act like that. Emotion is important and relationships with emotion are essential to the human life.  Without emotion everything will fall apart. In the end I think this book helps the reader realize that being the "typical" version of a male is inevitably wrong and emotion is extremely important in human life.

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Morrison's Depiction of Neither Positive nor Negative Relationships

Paul D, a man who comes into 124, physically and figuratively shakes up the familiar relationships, throws Sethe into an unrecognizable emotional state, and evidently gets displaced by a ghost roaming the house, Toni Morrison uses this character to project the myriad of experiences, reflection, and pain of a African-American male in the Antebellum period. Morrison stalls his relationship with Sethe in front of her audience, through times where we've appreciated Paul D's presence, and times we've resented his ignorance towards his selfish treatment of Sethe. Not only does he equate a female with the home she lives in, saying;

  "He believed he was having house-fits, the glassy anger men sometimes feel when a woman's house   begins to bind them, when they want to yell and break something or at least run off. He knew all about that—felt it lots of times—in the Delaware weaver's house, for instance. But always he associated the  house-fit with the woman in it. This nervousness had nothing to do with the woman […] Also in this   house-fit there was no anger, no suffocation, no yearning to be elsewhere. He just could not, would not, sleep upstairs or in the rocker or, now, in Baby Suggs' bed. So, he went to the storeroom" (135).

Moreover, this thought process begins to be hypocritical, quoting "whom he loved (Sethe) a bit more everyday: [...] the blood in her eye when she defended her girls" (136); only to later break up with Sethe on the grounds that she had taken the life of her children to keep them from experiencing the most inhumane and degrading systematic oppression this country, and very much the world, has ever known. His vision of love pertains to a larger basis of insecurity in masculinity. The fact that Paul D would have rather impregnated Sethe than admit to having emotional struggle and turmoil is a point Morrison is portraying through his fluctuating treatment of Sethe. Men, especially at the time, were defined by their physical toughness. If a woman was to assert this "dominance" over a man, the male was not considered a man. The emotional struggles Paul D is going through at the time of his dissent from 124 relate back to his sexual encounter with Beloved. Having been raped, Paul D no longer feels his manhood is honored in the house of 124, as he has been made to feel unsafe in his own body, pressured into sexual acts, and socially isolated. Morrison ends the chapter right before the beginning of Part II by Sethe nonchalantly waving off Paul D's point to end their relationship. By ending the chapter with Sethe thinking: "Sweet. He must think I can't bear to hear him say it. That after all I have told him and after telling me how many feet I have, "goodbye" would break me into pieces. Ain't the sweet" (195). 

The audience is left feeling proud that Sethe is remaining unaffected by his absence and harsh insults, but also a large loss of a character's right to finally feel as if they are the person in control of their actions. This confusion is one of many ways Morrison depicts the lasting effects of slavery and how to many people at the time, slavery was mentally inescapable. We, as the audience, must not overlook the pain that both the main characters have gone through individually, and how they in turn allow for the treatment of one another. 

Friday, November 3, 2017

Masculinity in Beloved

Something about Beloved that really stood out to me was its take on masculinity. It seemed to take a surprisingly progressive stance for a book containing (purposeful) sexist perspectives, and especially for a book set in the time period that it's in.Paul D tells Sethe that Halle witnessed her assault, and says that "something broke in him...like a twig" (81). Sethe immediately responds with, "He saw them boys do that to me and let them keep on breathing air?" (81). I find Paul D's answer really striking: "A man ain't a goddamn ax...things get to him, things he can't chop down because they're inside" (81).

There are multiple sides to the issue of gender roles, and so often men are excluded from the conversation, if there's even a conversation at all. The expectation of men to be emotionless, strong, aggressive, athletic - the list goes on and on - is extremely prevalent everywhere, every day, in every culture. I hear "Man up" and "Be a man" almost on the daily. There is no right or wrong way to be a girl, and the same is true for boys. Boys are pressured to hold in fear and sadness, and to some extent, even joy and love. So they bottle all of these human emotions in, and they can come out in aggression or loneliness, and I find it so heartbreaking.

Men are supposed to be the breadwinners, the fighters, the protectors, and this is clear in Sethe's expectation of Halle. Of course, it must be acknowledged that Sethe endured something awful and traumatic, and would have been desperate for anyone to do anything that could help, but Paul D points out that Halle is a secondhand survivor. What he was forced to see was traumatizing and painful for him, too, and he shut down just like a woman might have. Because of the distinct male and female roles that have been created and perpetuated for hundreds and hundreds of years, Halle and so many others have had things inside them that they can't chop down - pain, "weakness," or just simple human emotion - that have been invalidated. 

It's important to understand that feminism benefits EVERYONE. Feminism is about increasing women's pay, critiquing how they are represented, and ending rape culture, but a huge part of it is also about dismantling the gender boxes. Equality of the sexes means more freedom for men to be vulnerable - to cry, to get help for mental illness. Feminism is a men's issue too, and while I would certainly not label Paul D as a feminist, I was glad to read his comments on masculinity.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Nonchalant Sexism: Purposeful or Subconscious?

'Is Albert Camus doing this on purpose or is this an inherent and subconscious ode to sexism and superiority complexes?' This question is so absolutely reoccurring in my investigation into the meanings behind this book that I'm more questioning of the author than the main character (the character everyone is supposed to be mad at (for good reason)). Yes, we all know Raymond is the personification of toxic masculinity. This is visualized through his physical and psychological abuse of "his mistress." It is also evident that Raymond has an identity and pride insecurity, as these commonly run parallel within sexist/oppressive ideologies. We, as readers in the 21st century can often become numb to grave issues such as sexism, racism, xenophobia, ableism, etc. So when we read texts with these characters, it is common for us to demonize that one character instead of questioning all relevant and present characters, and also the author, the originator of the story's being. Meursault, playing the role of the bystander, is thus choosing the side of the oppressor in every interaction of sexism. He is perpetuating an obvious discrimination by allowing Raymond to think one can do so much damage, and justify it afterwards without repercussion. Although, relating back to my point, what worries me is the fact that Marie, who is dating Meursault, is also constantly being put into, whichever side of the binary, this sexism. This underlying and unquestioned inaction worries and pushes me to ask, is Albert Camus doing this on purpose or is this a normalized concept in the world and time period in which this book was written? What frustrates and "surprises" me is the objectification and lack of action done by Marie. Not only does Meursault become affectionate towards Marie only when "he wants her" but she, much like the Benjamin binary text we read eariler this year state, that she plays a role into this binary by allowing it to happen and laughing it off.  I believe this Marie character is far more important to the text and global issues than we are giving her. We could go the route and say this constant laughter is her being put in uncomfortable situations and her way of dealing with the issue is laughter, which is a very normal response to pressured experiences. Although, in the scene when Meursault and Marie see Raymond abusing the woman, all she does is ask someone else to call the police. This worried me greatly. One could argue this is her being a bystander as well. In situations of any sort, if someone is bleeding to death due to assault, merely asking someone else to call the police is not enough. We as readers must realize there are many more origins of sexism than the, while still obviously unacceptable and valid to the story, physical abuse Raymond earlier had on the woman he was involved with. There are many roads to go down on this concept and I tried to scrape the surface, so that's it for now.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

George Saunders flounders!

I'm an enormous fan of George Saunders. However, after reading a number of his stories, I've noticed a strange pattern. With the exception of The Very Persistent Gappers of Fripp, which stars an excellent heroine named Capable, every George Saunders story I've read has featured men as the primary characters and women as being put in powerless/demeaning roles - usually in a sexual way.

To be clear, when Saunders' women are put into these situations, their predicament is in no way meant to be glorified. In each occurrence of this trope, the man who overpowers and violates the woman is definitely portrayed as being in the wrong. In The Brief and Terrifying Reign of Phil, it's Phil himself – indisputably the villain of the story – who fantasizes about, idealizes, violates, and eventually murders his female crush. "Escape from Spiderhead" portrays women being killed after being sort-of sexually violated in the context of an experiment (again, the man who kills them is not supposed to be a sympathetic character). The short story "Victory Lap" features a rapist who means to rape and murder a female child, "Jon" has young girls being impaired by accidental pregnancies, and "Tenth of December" features a young boy who fantasizes about a girl being kidnapped so he can rescue her. In none of these cases is the reader supposed to sympathize with the overpowering of these female characters, and yet there they are.

It's difficult to tell what George Saunders is trying to say through this repeated trope. On the one hand, he's definitely making a statement against violating women or using them as objects. On the other hand, that's what happens to most of his female characters (again, with the exception of Capable, who is an excellent non-sexualized young heroine).

What this says to me is that Saunders is making an effort, but he's not truly there yet. It's been proven time and time again that male authors have more difficulty telling the stories of female characters than female authors do when telling the stories of male characters. This is because the majority of media is presented from a male perspective; therefore, women are constantly forced to see things from a man's point of view, whereas men are never forced to see anything from a woman's point of view.

It seems that Saunders is on the right path (saying that women should be treated as equal human beings) but he hasn't quite made it to the point of actually portraying them as human beings, instead focusing on the damage that occurs when they are not treated as such. When it comes down to it, it's a case of mutual recognition: Saunders has reached the point of saying "You're not less than me" but hasn't reached the point of "You're equal to me."

I hope to see this repetitive trope disappear as I read more of his writing. After all, a writer is only great if they can write from the perspectives of both halves of the population.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Chodorow and the Real World

I thought that Chodorow's did a great job of developing her argument in her book The Reproduction of Mothering.  She went into clear explanation of the claims she made and illustrated these claims with examples.  Besides a few details I disagreed with, Chodorow's argument was pretty well-developed.  I especially appreciated her hopeful, constructive viewpoint, identifying the fatalistic fallacy that women's mothering is biological and unchangeable.  What I found glaringly inaccurate was the assumed statement that the whole book is found on explaining and changing: that women parent and men basically don't.

Now I do understand that she to an extent recognizes the generalization made in this assumption, but her argument as a whole is still shaped around explaining an idea that is fundamentally unstable.  At least in my own life, I feel that my father has parented me greatly.  While he may not cook and clean often like my mom, my dad has very intentionally nurtured me - emotionally, mentally, and morally.  The raising of myself was undoubtedly a team effort by my two parents and would be drastically different if my dad's parenting were to be removed from the picture.  And, in regards to Chodorow's assertions about the mothering trend in the past, I am sure my father would assert that he grew up in a culture where the father's role as a parent was highly valued.

While I would say that my family is unique in several ways, including some divergence from standard American gender stereotypes, I don't think that it is alone in this case.  Though I can't judge any other family without having been a part of it or a close observer, I would definitely say that I have noticed what appears to be parenting and important emotional ties between the child and the father.  Perhaps this sign of dedication to child-rearing isn't quite as prevalent as I think it is; maybe it is somewhat unique to my socioeconomic status.  Even if this were the case, however, Chodorow's societal generalizations does not allow room for such a case.  In fact, her implications of widespread absence of male parenting and unhealthy female parenting came to a glaring point in her line found towards the bottom of pg. 217 in her Afterword: "...children are better off in situations where love and relationships are not a scarce resource controlled and manipulated by one person only."  The idea that in most families love is "scarce" and "manipulated" by an apparently tyrannical and unstable mother appears to me to be rather and inaccurate - and, to be frank, insulting.

Chodorow's theory does manage apply to Toni Morrison's Beloved pretty well.  This is not because of a work-oriented, pedophobic father, however.  The problems of Denver, the younger daughter of the story, that could be explained through Chodorow's theory stem from the absolute lack of her father's presence and being isolated to only her mother and, for some of her life, her grandmother (both of which are actually unstable for unrelated, very understandable reasons).  Under these circumstances, where the absence of affection from the second parent is undeniable because he is literally not there, Chodorow's theory does perfectly.

Mothering vs. Fathering?

In Nancy Chodorow’s, The Reproduction of Mothering, she describes how the concept of “mothering” has become entirely female. She explains that women have a certain type of connection to their children, which makes their primary location in the home (as oppose to outside like the father).

Madison mentioned in a previous that there is an increased separation between men and women because of their social location; the public (or outside) is seen as more masculine, while the home is seen as more feminine. I think maybe one reason why many fathers don’t take on the role of mothering is perhaps because they are afraid of losing the sort of “masculine” qualities that their social location gives them.

Although I do agree that fathers should spend more time with their children, I also believe that there is a reason why mothers and fathers have continued to maintain their current roles. There are certain things that only a mother can give to a child, just like there are certain things that only a father can give to a child. Chodorow does make a very compelling argument, and I agree that mothering becomes a type of cycle because the concept is constantly passed down to the next generation. However, current social constructs make it difficult for mothers and fathers to break the cycle, which leaves Chodorow's "dilemma" somewhat unsolved.

Monday, November 24, 2014

What We've Learned About Fractions In Math Is Wrong.

In math class you are taught that a/b = b/a. Jessica Benjamin has taught us that that is actually false. Benjamin's math is more like a/b could never equal b/a, because switching the two would change life as we know it. Benjamin writes about how binaries dominate our society (BINARIES/society). So if we were to take a binary and flip it then life as we know it would be drastically different.

Faulkner has taken binaries to another level. Whether it is MASTER/slave, WHITE/black, PARENT/child, they are everywhere throughout Light in August. One binary I thought was pretty cool was MALE/female. I thought that it was cool because Faulkner flips this very important binary.
It is evident that most of the relationships in the novel adhere to the MALE/female binary (such as McEathern and his wife). Faulkner decides that it is not very interesting to conform to social constructions so he takes Joe Christmas, and Mrs. Burden's relationship and flips the binary.

When Joe describes his relationship with Mrs. Burden he explicitly states that he feels as if Mrs. Burden has more control or dominance then he does. Joe's lack of power in a typically male dominated binary may contribute to the his killing of Mrs. Burden. If it does play a major role then we see first hand how flipping a binary drastically changes the reality of the situation.

Faulkner's Light in August is truly layered and confusing work, but it is a work of art and must be interpreted as such. His discreet and not so discreet violations of social code at the time are magnificent. I think Jessica Benjamin and William Faulkner would have gotten along well.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Assume: Makes an ___ Out of "U" and Me

While rereading our short stories in preparation for the upcoming test, I realized a common mistake that I made. I continuously assumed things. I assumed what another was character was thinking, I assumed what one character was going to do to the other, I assumed things that I should have waited to find out from the author. Nelson Barry, a main character from "Old Woman Magoun" by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, loses his daughter in a bet to his friend, Jim Willis. I automatically assumed the worst was to be done to her by Willis. I immediately went to the most negative end of the possibilities spectrum- pedophilia. However, this assumption isn't without merit- Freeman purposefully described the character in a mysterious, almost creepy way that did not accentuate the positive aspects of Jim Willis.

Assumptions, or inferences? Now, assumptions may make a donkey out of you and me, but inferences on the other hand clarify the more secretive hidings of a piece of literature. In Freeman's case, my assumption about Jim Willis's intentions was truly an inference. Freeman didn't state, "Willis is a pedophile." She described him holding Lily's hand, how Lily reacted to his presence around her. Also, Nelson Barry lost his daughter in a bet to Willis... I highly doubt that a young girl won in a bet is getting a full scholarship to school or a brand new horse...But there it is again! The assuming! In all honesty one will never know the truth about what would have happened to Lily and that is the miraculous mystery of literature- it is up to ones' self to decide and decipher what will happen to a little girl and a strange man.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Somebody Like You

Our world encourages the survival of stereotypes. Judgement seems to permeate much of our society and it has a major influence on the way women and men view themselves. Women are held to a greater standard of decency and expected to act "lady-like" in public, which entails a more subdued personality and proper mannerisms. Men, on the other hand, are given a bit of wiggle room in terms of how they can display themselves in public. Yet, with this additional room to be more vulgar in speech and behavior, men experience the same judgment that ushers in a sense of what it means to be a "man" and how that should be interpreted into their lives. In the story "Language of Men", the main character encounters an identity issue while serving in the army. The army is considered masculine in its qualities: strong, brave, and powerful. These characteristics make the main character feel a sense of pressure to be an excellent worker with a successful or worthy product of work. He also feels the need to be respected by his peers. During the story, we find out that not only does the main character feel inept in his military skills considering he has worked hard and still has not been promoted to a higher position, but the character also feels like his peers do not respect him as one of their own when he makes the job switch to army cook. He takes this position very seriously and enjoys the labor, but the other army men do not acknowledge the value of his work. With this sense of disrespect, the main character finds himself immersed in a fight with the other men.

When Carter, the main character, attempts to defend his pride through his work, he takes it a step too far. Although the men at first began to respect Carter for defending himself and begin to appreciate the work he puts into the food, Carter destroys his chances of being friends with one of the army men named Hobbes. He realizes that he does not understand the "language of men" and will never be one of "them". This distinction between Carter and the rest of the men is a good illustration of the gender roles that everyone confronts in our society. These gender differences are depicted in the title of the short story, "Language of Men", because rather than a language of humans, there is a division between the type of "language" that relates men to men and women to women.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Carter Wants To Get Better

In the Language of Men, by Norman Mailer, the main character, Carter, struggles with fitting in with the men he cooks for. You can tell he wants to understand and communicate with them like they do, but he cannot figure out why he cannot. In the song I Wanna Get Better, by Bleachers, the lead singer or protaganist sings about how he wants to  in fact get better. I think in a lot of ways Carter could agree with Jack Antonoff. 

Carter doesn't understand the language of men. The most apparent example is his interaction with Hobbes. The conversation is going well and Carter finds a way to mess it up. Now he and Hobbes can never be friends.

I don't think that the song above and this song go perfectly hand in hand, but the central idea of "getting better" is at the forefront of everybody's mind. Nobody wants to be the odd man out, everyone wants to fit in. Carter doesn't fit in with his men, and Jack Antonoff doesn't believe he can satisfy everyone around him.  Everyone has something they are insecure about, but Antonoff sings about how we can all get better if we come to terms with ourselves and work to change for the better.


I don't know if Carter will ever learn the language of men or if Antonoff will ever get better, but if everyone tries then I think there will be some improvement.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Lost in The Language of Men

For as long as humans were evolved enough to create constructs of gender that go further than physicality, there's been a general idea of misunderstanding between the sexes, I imagine. Not to say that men and women are by definition not able to understand each other entirely, as I believe it is entirely something in our heads. However, even now, you see a lot of jokes about men not "getting" women and vice-versa. There's an entire published book that people actually pay money for that is all blank pages entitled "Everything Men Know About Women". While that may be sometimes destructive and backwards, the real thing to question is why we are taught to think we completely understand our own gender.

Although we did not get to finish our discussion on The Language of Men in class, it has been in my head for over a week. During that week, I've read a few other short stories, read things in other classes, etc. I've had a lot of examples I could apply the themes of Norman Mailer's story to. However, what I spent more hours doing than anything else was watch tv show called Lost. If you are unfamiliar, it is a show about a plane that crashes on an island. You don't need or want to know much more. After having read The Language of Men I noticed more and more small signs of some unspoken manhood between the plentiful male characters on the show. It was not of companionship and usually not even friendly, but the interactions they had had a lot to do with their gender being male, whether it was a short stare or an entire fight. Similarly to Sanford Carter, the men on the island suffer from a lot of insecurities and a desire for respect. Some women do too, but the show doesn't focus on that aspect of their personalities as much as they do for male characters. It is important to note that the show's creators are all men.

Carter goes through his life in the army feeling inferior. He struggles to connect with the other troops, and as Mailer put it, "he hated the army, the huge army which had proved to him that he was good at no work, and incapable of succeeding at anything. He wrote long, aching letters to his wife, he talked less and less to the men around him, and he was close to violent attacks of anger during the most casual phases of training...he knew if he did not find his niche it was possible he would crack"(Paragraph 5, pg.125). Like the men of Lost, Sanford was becoming unbalanced and feral. While the men of the island were losing themselves because of being on an isolated tropical island and Carter was because of being surrounded by men he didn't relate to, both stories portray what stereotypical masculinity is and how that affects these characters.



Thursday, September 11, 2014

Does the Language of Men (slash Women) Really Exist?

After reading and briefly discussing "The Language of Men" by Norman Mailer, I began to reflect on this tacit language that is apparent between those of the same gender yet somehow is impermeable for the opposite gender. Does such a language truly exist? Do men have an understanding that exists within the nod of a head and the shaking of hands? Similarly, are women able to make judgements based on the slightest of notions? If such symbols and gestures exist, why can they not transfer over to the opposite gender?

I think it would be unrealistic to argue that such a tacit language does not exist. Perhaps this "language" is an unnatural, manmade concept, nonetheless it does exist. Pop culture popularizes television shows such as Girl Code (and it's "brother", Guy Code) because it displays relatable scenarios that provide a standard that each gender should follow. Essentially, shows like Girl Code/Guy Code prove that gender-specific tacit codes not only exist but should be universally followed by all who categorize themselves as that specific gender.

Based on my own experience, I would conclude that gender-specific implications derived from tacit codes do exist, however I am confused on why a man seemingly cannot comprehend the mind of a woman and vice versa. If we (men) can understand one another without laying down a concrete language, how can we not understand the language of women?