PC language and taking offense שפה תקנית ופגיעה

When I see an article criticizing political correctness, I anticipate reading defensive bunk claiming that words are just words, so why can’t everyone just calm down? worthy of Archie Bunker. This piece by Amaliah Rosenblum is an exception.

While Rosenblum concedes that language does shape our realities, she initially argues, “If I choose to refer to my husband as ‘my partner,’ in so doing, I am not improving my status in the eyes of the law and the Rabbinate.” Um, yes you are. Not in each individual instance of uttering the words “my partner” when referring to your spouse, but in the “critical mass” that slowly forms, which is comprised of each instance of its use by each one of us. Every time you useבן זוגי ben zugì [“my partner” in Hebrew] or ishì [“my man”], it validates my using it. Every time I use it, it lowers the inhibitions of some other woman who chokes on it. I assert that the more it’s used, heard, uttered, written, and read, the less we’ll all choke and the more ordinary it will become, until hopefully it ultimately replaces ba’alì [literally “my master”]. This is the trajectory of all PC language.

Rosenblum states, “Sticking to the embellished term ‘my partner’ is likely to serve my desire to repress the major problems with the institution of marriage in Israel while weakening my ability to oppose it.” Huh? How so? And why is the term embellished? Did she mean “pretentious”, perhaps? What could be more down-to-earth than the simple and direct “my partner”? As opposed to, say referring to handicapped individuals as “differently abled” [ducking]?

Yet it is in Rosenblum’s final paragraph that we reach her quite intelligent distillation of democracy: “The price of living in a democracy is that all kinds of idiots with poor taste have the right to say repulsive things about us. That's part of the deal.” This was exactly the argument put forward by Jyllands-Posten editor Flemming Rose when criticized for commissioning a series of cartoons of Muhammad that “offended” Muslims. How much weight are we required to give to that “offense”, as opposed to that caused by downright incitement, a la Beitar fans’ chants of “Death to the Arabs”? Or to the “offense” “felt by” the ultra-Orthodox at the sight of Naama Margolese walking to school, all her proto-sexual parts (and more) duly covered? I believe the answer lies in something my friend Rabbi Susan Silverman once said to me, which she lives by: “You can choose to be offended. Or not to be.”

I beg to expand thereupon: We can react to offense in one of three ways: 1) Let it go; 2) Protest vigorously, yet non-violently; 3) Blow up the embassies of the countries from whence the offense emanated. Which response will garner more sympathy? Which will move humankind forward? This excellent piece by Fouad Ajami addresses precisely these issues.

Do I believe the offense taken by the African-American community over the slaying of Trayvon Martin is a mis-reaction? I do. But to their credit, they organized Hundred Hoodie Marches in protest; they didn’t blow up buses. Ditto for the members of the CHaBaD community who protested the guilty verdict in the Aharon Rubashkin case: While I vehemently disagree with their offense thereat and their claims of anti-Semitism, at least they didn’t rampage through Brooklyn overturning dumpsters or spitting on “immodestly dressed” women.

So I suppose you could say that my New Year’s wish is to see more Hundred Hoodie Marches and fewer (ideally no) bombings. Doesn’t seem too much to ask, does it?

Can we believe what we hear about the ultra-Orthodox? האם נוכל להאמין את המחזים על החרדים

I’m reacting strongly to the powerful film My Father, My Lord [Hebrew: חופשת קיץ Hofshát Káits] for which I wrote the plot synopsis. In the film, just as the family is about to board the vehicle to go on the vacation to which the Hebrew title refers, one of Rabbi Eidelman’s followers comes running, enjoining him to come quickly to the site of a pigeon nesting on the windowsill of his son’s school. The reference is to Deuteronomy 22:6-7, which states that if you should happen upon a (kosher) bird’s nest while out and about, and you decide that you must have the eggs or the hatchlings for your own consumption, you may take these after shooing the mother bird away, far enough to where she cannot see you collecting her young. According to the Mishna, one who performs this commandment is assured longevity. As we might imagine, the “opportunity” to perform this commandment is unlikely to ever arise even once in a lifetime in the urban milieu that most Jews inhabit.

In the above-named film, the rabbi responds immediately: His follower leads him to the site of the nest, and presumably excited at the rare opportunity to perform this arcane commandment, he duly shoos the mother bird therefrom, leaving behind two hatchlings, which he does not take with him, but rather leaves there, presumably to starve. He then chants a prayer of praise, not unlike a kid who gleefully squashes a bug because someone in authority says it’s OK. When his young son, who has been observing the nest from his classroom for days, asks him disturbing questions about the fate of the hatchlings, he brushes off the boy’s feelings and grandstands about the privilege of having merited performance of this commandment.

Now, every time someone critiques the ultra-Orthodox based on a movie or book, the critic is immediately attacked for “judging an entire community / lifestyle based on a movie / book / play". But let’s deconstruct this argument: First of all, the definition of a story is that the plot must contain a conflict. This I learned in junior high. The oldest plot conflicts center around forced marriage a la A Fiddler on the Roof, or forbidden love a la Romeo and Juliet. Necessarily, any plotline in a story about a closed, traditional community is bound to be about individual desires versus compliance with community norms. So it shouldn’t surprise us that literature about the ultra-Orthodox community invariably contains this element.

I also believe that it’s legitimate to get my information about the ultra-Orthodox community from books, movies, films, and plays, many of whose authors and screenwriters come from within the community, including authors Shalom Auslander, Yochi Brandt, Naomi Ragen; film directors David Volach, Rama Burshtein, Haim Tabakman, and Amós Gitái; and playwright Amnon Levy, whether having left the community or still a part of it. Can I not assume that they have an interest in depicting the community accurately to outsiders?

As an analogy, take the example of cop shows. Even having never been present at an arrest or in a courtroom, I know about the reading of Miranda rights and courtroom protocol. While the thrilling car chases and unlikely plot twists are obviously the products of some screenwriter’s imagination, as are the personalities of the characters, the “frame” with all its details reflects reality — even the unseemly parts such as organized crime, drug dealing, and human trafficking. In the same way, I believe that we can believe the “frames” of plots concerning the ultra-Orthodox, as it is these very strictures and taboos that set the plots in motion.

Look, as I’ve written before, as increasingly turned off as I am by this community, it’s really their business. Even if all the mother pigeons in Israel were simultaneously shooed off their nests tomorrow, it likely would not upset any balance, either ecological or cosmic. So no, they’re not hurting anyone…as long as they fund their lifestyle on their own steam. Once my tax money is involved, then yes, I do have right of critique.

Why the Duggars give me the willies משפחת דאגר: למה היא מפחידה אותי

Five Things That Bother Me About the Duggars:

[For those readers unfamiliar with them, hover your mouse over Michelle Duggar's name in the box to the left of this post]

1. The parents don't own up to setting rules or forbidding things. They couch their rules in language that calls them "personal commitments / beliefs [of ours]". I believe that this is a deliberate attempt to make their lifestyle palatable to The Rest Of Us: We recoil at rules forbidding what for us is acceptable; but we can't argue against personal beliefs or commitments.

2. The bumper sticker allegedly on their car: "Evolution is a lie / Save America please" [By the way, I looked for these online and couldn’t find a single one, not even in the nuttiest of wing-nut merch sites]. Why just America? Evolution is (or is not, in their belief system) a global concept. Ergo, why should rebutting it save only America? What's holy about America, that only it deserves saving from heathen beliefs? What about the rest of the world?

3. Christian mail - It’s hard for me to willingly find links for this post, because in my naivete, I actually wrote the Duggars a letter and ever since have been deluged with Christian spam. After months of spam cleanup efforts, and getting it down to just a few mails a week, I visited the Duggar blog and when I checked my mail afterwards, there they were, smiling out at me from my Inbox: mails from half a dozen “different” fundy Christian groups that all come from the same source. Here I go again…Help! I’m drowning in Jesus!

4. The children’s education - Firstly, I want to say that I’m not anti-homeschooling, and there are definite advantages thereto, a big one being that the family is not tied to the schoolday or school calendar. Kid wakes up with an earache or tummyache? No missed work or attendance to worry about, just take care of your kid. Out-of-town mid-week event you want to attend? No problem. Feel like visiting a destination when it’s cheapest? Go right ahead and make your reservation. It must actually be quite liberating. Looked at from this angle, it’s not hard for me to believe that a homeschooling parent of 19 could indeed spend individual time with each kid daily, a fact that I couldn’t even take for granted when my “mere” three were living at home.

But the older children study law? And medicine? Huh? Wouldn’t studying medicine ultimately lead to discussions of, uh, human biology and cells and, uh…evolution? Unless what’s being referred to is folk medicine…? Or folk law? Is there such a thing as folk law?

5. The graduates are “studying under professionals”? What professionals? What licensed nurse or nurse midwife would or could ethically give them instruction? Just because one is a practitioner of the healing arts does not authorize them to teach them, and certainly not to non-enrollees of an accredited program. What’s going on here? Well Michelle explains [why cannot Jana speak for herself?] that Jana’s been assisting a doula, who by definition is herself an assistant. So the way I read it, Jana is apprenticing-to-an-assistant-to-a-midwife. That’s one crowded delivery room, at least three of the occupants of which are non-medical practitioners. What birthing mom would agree to that?

OK, five’s all I’ve got; I’ll gladly add more if anyone has contributions, but this is enough to give me the creeps for now.

Men, do the right thing already גברים, עשו את הדבר הצודק כבר

Yesterday while reading this article about gender studies programs in the schools, I was struck once again by the phenomenon of women feeling they have to soft-pedal feminism to men by reassuring them that it will benefit them too. Some quotes from the article: “It [sexism] is no less complicated for men: Men are expected to be strong…it [feminism] is about making a change, not just for ourselves, but for society as a whole.”

There we go again, arguing feminism by asserting that “Sexism hurts men too”, as if women’s rights are only legitimate if there’s something in it for the men too, as if feminism’s not enough on its own merit.

News flash: No group in power cedes its power simply to be nice to those lower in status. Believe me: If sexism truly hurt men, they would’ve eradicated it themselves long ago! Like all liberation movements, feminism is legitimate in its own right; it’s not obligated to offer men the Crackerjack prize of “It will benefit you too.”

While gender stereotypes certainly oppress some men, mankind as a whole benefits from the patriarchal structure. And make no mistake about it: Patriarchy is alive and well. Just yesterday a neighbor told me that one recent night she came across two young women swinging on a park swingset. Three teenage boys stood watching them, arms crossed in an intimidating pose. My neighbor took in the scene immediately, approached the boys, and told them unceremoniously to knock it off. Most likely the young women sensed that the boys were out of line, but also likely couldn’t put their finger on why, not yet having a name for it.

Note that the incident took place at night. That’s because — again, it’s implicit — the boys somehow knew that their behavior would be unacceptable in broad daylight, that intimidating females must be done under cover of darkness. And they knew good and well that’s what they were doing: intimidating. Yet the girls, not having the language for it, couldn’t call them on it. After all, the boys weren’t doing anything: They were neither touching the girls nor disrupting their play. But the boys didn’t have to do anything explicit: Both sides know the “rules”.

So no, these girls weren’t suffering wage discrimination or being deprived of Title IX funding or Goddess forbid, being harrassed (although only a thin line separates intimidation and harassment — kudos to my neighbor for intervening); but they were experiencing patriarchy nonetheless.

Where did these girls and these boys learn the “rules”? Who taught the girls that the boys’ behavior made them uncomfortable, yet there was no outward cause therefor? Who taught the boys that girls are objects to stare at, ogle, intimidate, see how far they could push the boundaries before an adult intervenes, an adult who has the words, the language to name these phenomena? No problem: They’ve been learning it since they emerged into this world, this society — this patriarchy.

I’m not afraid of that word, patriarchy. If you thought it refers only to the Taliban, you’d be wrong. It’s easy to get smug when we read about Taliban-style patriarchy; after all, we’re civilized: We’re not like them. But the Taliban simply lies at the extreme end of the gender non-/parity spectrum. Our goal should be to eradicate all manifestations of patriarchy, including those such as the boys’ behavior in the park that can’t be legislated. And we need men to be our partners therein, but not because they’re going to get something out of it “too”, but rather because gender parity is The Right Thing To Do.

This post powered by the book that now heads my daughters’ Compulsory Reading Booklist: How To Be a Woman by Caitlan Moran

Roommates w/Benefits? שותפים עם "הטבות"

While this editorial by Shahar Ilan isn’t breaking news, what it does do is break the ultra-Orthodox curriculum down for us Dummies. In it, we learn that the phenomenon of the ultra-Orthodox thumbing their noses at the core curriculum largely occurs in the boys’ schools; while the girls learn a certain level of English, math, and geography.

After they are married, the men are sequestered in yeshivas while the women get paying jobs where they use their skills, however paltry. So not only are the wives more educated than their husbands (in the Western sense of the word), but they are necessarily wordlier, being exposed to and in daily contact with the broader society.

What’s interesting to me is the effect this has on the marital relationship. I would guess that this arrangement actually infantilizes the men, relegating them to something akin to Eldest Child instead of Equal Partner. After all, plenty of ultra-Orthodox as young as ages seven or eight (the girls in particular) are already taking responsibility for the running of the household, including of course caring for younger siblings.

So what must it be like to have no substantial role in the family? You come home to a wife who earns the income and pays the bills, and a household run by increasingly competent offspring. Talk about emasculating: The only thing you’ve contributed to this enterprise is your sperm.

And we haven’t even talked about what the husband and wife talk about to each other: They might as well live on separate planets. On the other hand, in a setup like this, who needs to talk? Seems to me the above-described arrangement is pretty much Roommates With Benefits, no?

Eurocentrism in the flesh ?צבע גוף" -- גוף של מי"

Following my previous post about skin, this post talks about another aspect thereof: skin tone. Having renamed its "Flesh" hue "Peach" in 1962, Crayola crayons (the final authority on hues for those of us who grew up using them. Who can forget Burnt Sienna?) inspired me to set an example for my children. Whenever my kids would refer to *tzeva guf* [Hebrew for "flesh tone" - see ad on left, received by mail just this week, a mere 50 years after Crayola's landmark move], I'd shoot back, "Whose skin? Plony's? Almony's? [ficticious names of real kids they know of African ancestry]".

My receipt of the infamous ad pictured here was conincidentally preceded by a letter forwarded to me, the original of which עברית follows my English translation below:

Morán Siáness wonders: When a pharma company manufactures a product for women in “flesh tone”, whose flesh do they mean?

"On my way to the pharmacy, I pondered whether I’d sought freedom, or if it was just an illusion. For years I’ve had a complicated relationship with It, and now we were parting ways. My side of the deal was to take It every day at the same time. For years I’ve disappointed It, and for Its part, It’s taken revenge on me in various ways. I’ve promised to change: This time’ll be different, I's vow. And again I disappoint It, and so on and so forth.

After many long years, I decided to say goodbye to my birth control pill. On my path to freedom, it was impossible not to think of a dear woman, Margaret Sanger, founder of the birth control movement. Sanger was active at the end of the 19th century in raising funds for researching the first birth control pill. While I owe her a debt of gratitude for enabling me total authority over my body now I mumbled to myself: It’s time to move on to the Last Word in Ovulation Suppression.

The pharmacist smiled at me, revealing a row of white teeth that sparkled against his chocolate skin, and I, out of politeness, smiled back while handing him my prescription. With skilled confidence, he handed me with a small package and began typing on his keyboard. Suddenly, I began pondering where I’d adhere the patch on my body. My choices are: rear end, belly, limbs, and upper back. The last two are visible; my belly’s not an option, and so I’m left with the only option left.

While waiting, I review the patch’s advantages that my gynecologist had named. One of them, she said, is that it comes in “flesh tone”, so that it’s “invisible”. “Tell me,” I turned to the pharmacist. “Does the patch come in a range of skin tones?” His teeth, which had previously sparkled against his chocolate skin, no longer sparkled against his now-pale face. “That’s right,” I continued talking in order to dissipate the embarrassing silence. “I mean it.”

“No,” he replied. “It comes in one tone: regular.”

Regular? I thought. Whose “regular”? Mine -- the dark Middle Eastern Jewish “regular”? Or perhaps yours, the Arab “regular’”?

But his answer had already made things crystal clear: 70% — that’s over two thirds — of the world’s footwear is manufactured in China. Yet no Chinese has ever been heard to say to an American, “Sorry, Sir, but our local standard size is 8. So sorry: No shoes for you, Bigfoot. Good day!”

My birth control patch is manufactured in Belgium, where most people are fair-skinned. But so what? All of the cosmetic manufacturers have figured out that there is no single skin tone; no such thing exists. Therefore, since they want to sell makeup, they manufacture it in a wide range of skin tones. So how is it a manufacturer of a medical product presumably aimed at the entire spectrum of the world’s women, hasn’t figured out the same thing?

All of you who are still skeptical and are suggesting that perhaps the hue of the patch reflects the “average global skin tone” are hereby invited to peruse this map, or simply accept the answer: No! “Standard skin tone” as reflected by the map bears no similarity to the little square that I purchased at the pharmacy!

Now let’s talk economics: If it’s not economical to manufacture the patch in several tones, then why doesn’t it come in the actual “global average tone”? I have yet to find the answer. Does Janssen, the Ortho Evra patch’s manufacturer, not see fit to take into consideration the countries that lie east and south of Belgium? Do Middle Eastern and Asian woman not seek the latest in birth control?

It’s easy for me to raise these questions when I’m not directly in the gaze of those who believe that I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s intimidating to encounter head-on an environment where on the one hand such thoughts can’t be expressed aloud, as it immediately brands me as an angry minority member or even worse, a feminist; and on the other hand negates my right to express my femaleness, which I’m unwilling to have taken from me — a femaleness of power, tenderness, love, and longing to be seen as I am: a woman, a Jew, a feminist, a Mizrachit [Jew of Middle Eastern ancestry], a non-owner of fair skin the tone of my patch.

I sought freedom, and en route thereto I found myself in a fixed reality wherein there is no black and white, but white only. I’m reminded of the character Layla in Radu Mihaileanu’s “The Source”, a film dealing with the many layers of humanity in general and of femaleness in particular. Layla decides to organize the women of her North African village to struggle against the tradition of paying the “price” in [miscarried] fetuses to fetch water from up the mountain. I wonder how Layla would have reacted to what I’ve written here. I wonder what counsel she’d give me; and my heart yearns for a man like her partner Sami, who would tell me, as he told Layla, “You’re my princess. It’s your right to fight.”

עברית:
מורן סיאנס תוהה: כשחברת תרופות מייצרת מוצר לנשים בצבע ״סטנדרטי״, לאיזה צבע היא מתכוונת?
בדרכי לבית המרקחת, הרהרתי לי אם חופש ביקשתי לעצמי, או שזו רק עוד אשליה. שנים שאני מנהלת איתה מערכת יחסי מורכבת, ועכשיו אנחנו הולכות להיפרד. המחויבות שלי הייתה לקחת אותה כל יום באותה השעה. שנים שאני מאכזבת אותה, היא מצדה מתנקמת בי בצורות שונות, אני מבטיחה לה להשתנות: שהפעם יהיה זה אחרת; ושוב אני מאכזבת אותה וחוזר חלילה.

אחרי שנים ארוכות, החלטתי להיפרד מהגלולה שלי. בדרכי אל החופש, לא יכולתי שלא לחשוב על אישה יקרה, מרגרט סנגר, מייסדת התנועה לפיקוח הילודה. סנגר פעלה בסוף המאה ה19 למציאת מקורות מימון ע”מ לאפשר את פיתוח הגלולה הראשונה למניעת הריון. הודיתי לה בלבי על שאפשרה לי את הריבונות המוחלטת על גופי, אבל עכשיו, מלמלתי לעצמי, הגיע הזמן להתקדם ולעבור למילה האחרונה בשוק קוטלי הביוץ שלי.

הרוקח חייך אליי, חיוך רחב שחושף את לובן השיניים, שמנצנץ לנגד העור השוקולדי שלו, ואני מתוך נימוס, חייכתי חזרה, תוך שאני מגישה לו את המרשם החדש. במיומנות מדויקת, הוא נגש אליי עם קופסה קטנה והחל מתקתק על המקלדת. לפתע, התחלתי להרהר בשאלה, היכן אניח את המדבקה על גופי? האזורים היחידים בהם ניתן להניח אותה הם הישבן, הבטן, הזרוע, או הגב העליון. השניים האחרונים חשופים למראית עין, הבטן לא אופציה עבורי, ומהפח אל הפחת, נשארתי רק עם האופציה של ה...בעודי ממתינה, ניסיתי להיזכר ביתרונותיה של המדבקה, כפי שמנתה אותם בפניי רופאת הנשים. אחד מהם, אמרה כמי שנפעמת מפלאי הטכנולוגיה, הוא שהיא מגיעה בצבע של הגוף, כך שלא רואים אותה. תגיד, חזרתי אל הרוקח, המדבקה מגיעה במגוון צבעי העור?

לובן השיניים, שהפעם נחשף מחיוך נבוך, כבר לא נצנץ אל מול חיוורון פניו. "כן," המשכתי לדבר כדי להפיג את השתיקה המביכה. "אני שואלת ברצינות."

לא," הוא ענה לי. "זה מגיע בצבע אחד רגיל."

רגיל? תהיתי לעצמי. רגיל של מי? שלי, המזרחית השזופה, או שלך, הערבי השחום? אבל התשובה כבר הייתה לי ברורה.למעלה משני שלישים — 70% — משוק הנעליים העולמי מיוצר בסין. אולם, לעולם לא נשמע אף סיני אומר לאמריקאי, "סליחה, אדוני, אבל פה הסטנדרט במידות הנעליים הוא 38, ולכן עבורך, שכמוך, אין לנו נעליים. תודה ושלום."

Bigfoot.

המדבקה מיוצרת בבלגיה, מדינה אירופאית, זה נכון. בלגיה היא מדינה שמרבית תושביה בעלי גוון עור בהיר, גם זה נכון. אבל מה? אפילו כל חברות הקוסמטיקה למיניהן השכילו להבין שאין, פשוט אין, גוון עור אחד. לכן, כשהן רוצות לשווק איפור, הן תייצרנה אותו במגוון רחב של צבעי עור. אז איך יתכן שחברה שמשווקת תכשיר רפואי, שמיועד לקשת רחבה של נשים, לא השכילה להבין שאין גוון עור אחד?לכל אותם אנשים שגבתם עדיין מורמת גבוה, והשאלה, אולי צבע המדבקה משקף את ממוצע צבע העור בעולם, שוכנת בליבם, אתם מוזמנים לעיין במפה המצורפת או פשוט לקבל את התשובה: לא! "הצבע הסטנדרטי" אינו דומה לריבוע החיוור שקיבלתי!

והנה נפטרה לה גם השאלה הכלכלית: הרי שאם זה לא כלכלי לייצר מספר גוונים, אזי מתבקש היה לייצר את המדבקה ע”פ צבע העור הממוצע בעולם. אולם, לשאלותיי טרם מצאתי תשובה. האם חברת התרופות הזו, בייצרה את המדבקה, לא מצאה לנכון להחשיב גם את המדינות ששוכנות מזרחית ו דרומית לה? שמא הנשים במזרח לא זקוקות לאמצעי מניעה חדישים?כמה קל לי להעלות את מחשבותיי מבלי להיתקל במבטיהם המאיימים של מי שחושבים שאני מגזימה או משוגעת. מפחיד כל כך להיפגש עם סביבה שכל מחשבה כזו שנאמרת בקול רם, מייד מתייגת אותי כמזרחית שסובלת מרגשי קיפוח או כפמיניסטית רדיקאלית [מהי הבעיה בפמיניזם רדיקאלי? - י.א.] ושוללת ממני במקביל את הזכות לבטא נשיות שאיני מוכנה שתילקח ממני: נשיות שיש בה עוצמה, רכות, אהבה, וכמיהה שיראו אותי כפי שאני; אישה, יהודייה, פמיניסטית, מזרחית, בעלת עור אחר מהסטנדרט הבהיר של המדבקה הזו.

חופש ביקשתי לי, ומצאתי עצמי במציאות מקובעת, שאין בה, גם לא שחור או לבן, אלא רק לבן. אני חושבת על דמותה של ליילה, בסרטו של ראדו מיכאלינו "מים ואהבה". סרט על רבדים שונים באנושיות בכלל ובנשיות בפרט. ליילה החליטה לעורר את נשות הכפר שבצפון אפריקה ולקרוא להן לפעול ע”מ לשנות מסורת רבת שנים שבה הן משלמות במחיר עוּבּריהן כדי לשאוב מים ממעלה ההר. מעניין איך היא הייתה מגיבה אילו הייתה קוראת את מילותיי עכשיו. בראשי, תוהה מה היה לה לייעץ לי, ובלבי, כמהה לבחור, כמו זה שהיה לצידה, סאמי, שיגיד גם לי "את הנסיכה שלי. יש לך הזכות להלחם".

Hijab: Repressive, or liberating? רעלה: מדכאה, או משחררת

I found this piece on wearing a hijab interesting. In short, while I respect Nusrat's decision and wouldn't attempt to dispute it, it seems to me that countering provocative / revealing dress disguised as feminism or liberation with uncomfortable, over-covering garb doesn't really solve the problem of objectification or of promiscuity, does it?

Where I completely agree with Nusrat is where she says that her hijab conveys, “I control what you see”. I contend that the young woman who lets it all hang out, while claiming that she’s in control, is actually a victim of Western culture (mostly via advertising, which is mainly devised by men) telling her what she should allow us to see. How is that empowering? Yet for me, the antidote to promiscuity is not repression, or throwing on a burlap bag and “disappearing” the whole fashion question, but rather feminism, which I see as encompassing educating girls and young women to recognize objectification and exploitation while citing strategies they can use to achieve balance between asserting themselves and loving their bodies and ending up puppets of the corporate world.

As I wrote in an earlier post, while women and girls who dress revealingly get attention alright, they don’t get taken seriously. There’s a reason your attorney doesn’t show up in court showing cleavage, or your physician doesn’t make her rounds in Daisy Dukes. Our sexual parts are there, naturally; but just as we don’t use them in public, we don’t have to advertise them to the world. Does the physician walk around wearing her stethoscope outside the work setting? Does the attorney bring her briefcase to a party? I also question the claim that dressing revealingly is comfortable: I used to wear tube tops, and recall the relief at removing them at the end of the day: No more tugging and itching. And thongs? How comfortable is it walking around with fabric up your crack?

However, I’m not convinced the antidote to fashion slavery is to cover up a la hijab or burka, or long sleeves and stockings in 40 c. heat, a la Orthodox Jewish women, which to me are as uncomfortable as tube tops, if not more. Instead, what I tried to do with my own daughters was to introduce to them the shocking concept that “appealing” need not be synonymous with “sexy”. The obvious place to start was synagogue wear: “No, you may not bare your stomach / wear spaghetti straps / a miniskirt to shul”. Eventually they would put on an outfit and ask me, “Ima, is this OK for shul?” I’d point out any “transgressions”, and back they went to the closet to correct them. Of their own volition, they wear boxers over their (two-piece) swimsuit bottoms, because they feel more comfortable that way. I’d rather they wear one-piece swimsuits, but I accept their solution because I believe that giving them choices within reason is as important as their not looking like streetwalkers. And what do you know? They dress appealingly, yet not provocatively. They internalized the difference.

It’s all relative, of course I realize. My daughters’ elbows and knees are exposed, which is considered revealing in fundy circles. But their sexual parts are covered up, and they are therefore more likely to be taken seriously and less likely to be ogled than are young women whose same parts are hanging out there for all to see. And so I feel I’ve succeeded in transmitting to them the concept of dressing appropriately. In fact, I can’t recall a single battle over an item of clothing, either while clothes shopping or post-purchase. Of course, I began “rolling the tapes” early on about our bodies, objectification and exploitation, women’s images in advertising, and so forth. So my restrictions in dress — which don’t even look like restrictions to them — didn’t take place in a vacuum. This is what has worked for me, and what I recommend parents try.

The lines from Nusrat’s piece that struck a chord in me read: “I am … absolutely certain that the skewed perception of women’s equality as the right to bare our breasts [or other parts, as much as we can get away with - Y.E.] in public only contributes to our own objectification. I look forward to a whole new day when true equality will be had with women not needing to display themselves to get attention.” I wish Nusrat a pleasant journey in her new identity as a hijabi [shouldn’t there be a feminine form of that word?]. When all’s said and done, our society already shows plenty of collective skin. If it’s possible to err, let it be on the side of less skin being revealed, not more.