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Sunday, November 24, 2013

Why we need to quit gendering "success"

Yesterday afternoon, I went to the climbing gym for a quick session. I was working my way up a route near the max of my ability, and exhausted about 3/4 of the way up, half falling, half simply sitting in my harness. Fortunately, I was on top-rope so fell only so far as the rope stretched, as when I looked down in the direction of my belayer, I saw another climber not 10 feet below me, lead climbing on a different route that overlapped with mine and ended on the same anchors. This behavior is a major violation of climbing etiquette - it is dangerous and it is obtrusive - and for a rather nervous climber like myself, it has the especially anxiety-inducing consequence of making me feel that I need to rush through a "project," perhaps forgoing additional attempts at moves I find challenging. I jumped back on the route, climbed until I fell again one move from the top, and when I saw that the man was still climbing just behind me, I asked to be lowered. My partner and I exchanged exasperated looks with neighboring climbers, but didn't say anything to the offending pair. We waited for them to apologize. They never did, and in fact they engaged in a number of other rude violations of climbing etiquette while there, including leaving a lead rope unattended on a route after they finished climbing it. This occupied the route so that, although they were no longer climbing it, others could not.

Perhaps because I had just returned from the American Anthropological Association's annual meeting where I elected to prioritize feminist panels over those that were drug related, I was really angered by this encounter. Contrary to popular advice or wisdom or whatever, however, I was not angered at my own silence. Rather, I was bothered by the two men's oblivion, by their unwillingness to just look about and consider how their actions were affecting the people around them.

The thing is, there have been countless lists floating around the internet lately that highlight the traits of "successful" people and telling women how they need to change in order to be more "successful" themselves. [I've put the term successful in quotes here as it is a problematic concept in and of itself and these articles consistently refer to very cultured and arguably gendered notions of success - financial, material, work-related, etc.] There is even a recent blog post I came across that urges women in academia to practice engaging in assertive or confident, rather than submissive, body language and to learn to take up (demand) more space for themselves.

In many societies, including the US, dominance is associated with masculinity while the act of submission and traits/behaviors associated with submissiveness are viewed as feminine. This gendering of (preferred vs. undesirable) behaviors manifests at multiple levels of society and reifies the relative status of men and women. It shapes gender, contributing to a strictly binary vision of the construct. Thus, how men and women are taught to act and interact from a young age and specific character traits in turn correspond with the hierarchical categorization of gender across society.

Now, as a relatively submissive person (by nature and probably also via my upbringing and culture), I am certainly grateful for the lessons that have taught me to be more assertive, to be more straightforward and open about my needs and desires. My concern with all this discourse encouraging women to adopt traits associated with normative masculinity and abandon those associated with normative femininity comes when I envision a world in which everybody is demanding that the soft-spoke person across the table speak louder. What I don't understand is why the conversation seems to exclude a request that the soft-spoken person's table-mate listen harder. Why don't we, as a society, ask the person who is taking up more than his/her "share" of space to look around and consider whether and how this is affecting others? Why does it seem that the pressure to change is primarily placed upon those who strive to be less demanding to become more so? Why can't thinking of how one's actions affect others be seen as confident and competent? (Arguably, this is where the reification of the gender/submission association has its greatest impact.)

It makes me think of this interview I heard last summer with Daniel Suelo, who has spent the last nearly 15 years living "without money." While he does depend upon generosity and publicly funded resources for many things, he has managed to survive and thrive for all these years without himself directly engaging the cash economy. And he has apparently been largely criticized for it, with a major and common critique being that what he's doing isn't sustainable for the whole society. In the interview, he noted that odds are, in a society as large as our current one, this is true. His way of life is largely dependent upon those who do participate in the cash economy. But he turns this question back on his critics and wonders why these same people fail to recognize that, at the end of the day, the excessive consumerism valorized in American culture is far less sustainable on a global scale.

Ultimately, we need to consider what type of society we want to live in. Is it one in which every person fights for the limited space on the couch or is it one in which every person makes him or herself so small as to take up less than a cushion? It's probably neither. We need people who are acting in the best interest of themselves and in the best interest of others. We need people capable of balancing being relational with assertive about their own ideas. I'm not proposing an end to the call for submissive women (and men) to step up and make their voices heard, to take up their share of space, or to confidently share their ideas. Rather, I'm arguing that we need an equal call for those who are more dominant in nature to look around before taking up so much space, to try listening harder before asking a companion to speak up, and to consider the good of the group in addition to any benefit to themselves. To truly (re)value these various traits in a more equitable manner we will have to de-gender the traits themselves or acknowledge and rectify persistent gender inequalities. Looks like it's back to feminism 101.

Monday, April 15, 2013

My heart will go out . . .

When public tragedy strikes, it understandably sets people on edge, highlighting the vulnerability of safe places and insulated populations. Events like the Newtown massacre and today's bombings at the Boston marathon set my Facebook page twittering with heartfelt outreach, with the sending of thoughts and prayers, and with people fearfully finding themselves able to relate to the circumstances and the victims. I hate to admit it, but since the Aurora shooting, I am frightened of going into movie theaters, especially for popular, high-profile films. And I feel for those who were affected and continue to be. We have seen too many sad events both in the US and abroad in recent years.

But, each time I am faced with people's anger and philosophical questions that stem from these incidents, I find myself reflecting upon why we, as a society, are not infuriated and heartbroken every single day. Because, the fact of the matter is, we live in a world where the the tragedies are rampant and the inequities are astronomical. As Americans, we live in a country where the wealth gaps are among some of the largest in the world; where we have accepted the fact that some people will die because they cannot find, or afford, safe, appropriate shelter; where some of our cities have some of the highest gun murder rates in the world (America's 10 Deadliest CitiesGun Violence in US Cities). In Baltimore, in the past 30 days, 22 people were murdered; all of these people were Black; all but three were men. My guess is that most were poor. In Detroit, a city that gets roughly 3,000 fires annually, firefighters seem to disproportionately (compared to other cities) risk their lives entering dilapidated and ostensibly vacant structures in an effort to save the have-nots who have too likely taken refuge within. Yet we do not seem to regard these systemic, structurally-rooted, forms of violence as violence, we do not view them as a call to reproach the system or challenge the culture.

I certainly grieve for the many victims of these highly-publicized incidents; I am sad for those who lost their lives, for those who lost their loved ones, for those who lost their sense of security; but my outrage runs much deeper, and finds its roots at the many daily tragedies we just accept. I am baffled, not by the occasional "crazy" or the periodic sociopath (or group of sociopaths), but by a country that so systematically oppresses entire groups of people, that abandons them and blames them and deems them "undeserving", not only of our tax dollars, but of our tears. I am angry because at the end of the day, it feels like nobody cares enough about those people to question society. We, as a culture, have expanded this "deserving vs undeserving poor" mentality to "deserving vs undeserving" period . . . "innocents" are deserving of our grief, they're the reason for reflection. The poor, the oppressed, we can sweep them under the rug again and again and again. I'd like to think we're just so numb to it now, that it's been too painful, so we can't react to (structural as well as physical) violence on such a scale, with such regularity. But I don't think that's it. I think, at the end of the day, we just don't care as much about those folks.

Many people will make the argument that an awful lot of these people were not "innocent", that they were embedded in systems that create and perpetuate violence. Others may cite moral transgressions or "weaknesses" as justification. But we cannot fool ourselves or construct ourselves as innocent by denying our own complicity in such systems. With very few exceptions, we - even the most oppressed, even the well-meaning, among us - are part of the problem, if for no other reason than we all work harder to get by (to succeed even) within the structure when perhaps we should be dismantling it (thank you to Paulo Freire for this image of the oppressive oppressed).

And this is, of course, where I get bogged down. As an anthropologist, I seek to understand: I ask myself, has my home culture has always been this way, so callously favoring the wealthy? I seek to understand the larger structural systems that have set us all up in opposition to one another, that seem to require some to suffer so others can succeed. I ask whether xenophobia is a cultural or a human phenomenon. But when I try to think just as me, just as a person, not as an academic, I don't know if I care why. I want to know what we are going to do about it. Then, feeling too vulnerable and ineffective, I bring my inner-academic back out and wonder, is it possible to effect meaningful (and desirable) change without answering these other questions? And that I don't know. For now, I know only this, and I will choose to reflect upon it every day, not just when the media decides something awful has happened: My heart will go out to the poor, to the suffering, to the daily murdered or beaten or frightened, to those who find themselves oppressed, exploited and excluded. I will think of them every single day. And maybe one day I will have an answer.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Culture, food, and the edible animal

Anthropologists spend a lot of time and energy thinking about the foods and food-related rituals and meanings of cultures the world over. In Mary Douglas' influential "Abominations of Leviticus", she explored the religion-based categorization of foods as edible and inedible. Marvin Harris' "The Riddle of the Sacred Cow" examines the Hindu prohibition against eating cows from a materialist perspective, arguing the myriad ways cows are more valuable to the society alive than as food. These canonic anthropological texts are decades old, but what has recently emerged as "Europe's Horse Meat Scandal" has once again highlighted the role of culture in defining what constitutes an edible animal, not just among anthropologists, but in popular media. And, of course, as an anthropologist and a horse girl, I just had to write about it.

I grew up riding horses. I love them. Love them. I have devoted years of my life to riding and caring for these magical creatures, working with them, and trying to rehab/rehome/and otherwise save them. I do not eat them though I try very hard to understand, and be ok with the fact, that others do.

           

So, several years ago, shortly after visiting some family friends in Switzerland, my father had the irrepressible need to share what he found to be a very funny experience. At dinner one evening, he asked the family's 9 year old daughter, "Do you like horses?"to which she responded, "Mmm, yum" while rubbing her belly. As my father tells it, he about fell out of his chair laughing as he pictured my response had I been there.

My father has spent a decent portion of his young adult and adult life living in France and has himself eaten horse so he did not find this statement or the behavior shocking, though given the context of his personal life (me!), he was certainly surprised in a "young girls like to ride horses not eat them!" kind of way. As much as I prefer to be culturally respectful when I travel, I cannot see myself voluntarily eating a horse (though there is some speculation that I have unknowingly done so at some point...) and when I've lived in places where horse meat was common, I've always found it moderately upsetting.

But here's the thing. I'm an anthropologist. It's my job to think about how culture has shaped the way we (people, so this includes me!) think about and define everything, including what we eat. So, intellectually, I get it. I understand why other cultures eat horse meat and I find it rather surprising when the Huffington Post tags articles on the topic with comments like "Gross!". I'm not a vegan - or even a vegetarian these days - but I do believe the critique that once we have made the decision to kill a living creature for our own sustenance, does it really matter which animal we kill? is worth while. Because this is where culture comes in. It is culture that defines which animals are edible and which ones are not. For example, this is why Americans are notoriously squeamish about foods that may be perfectly ordinary in other places - think escargot (snails) or crustaceans with their heads on and eyes intact. Whether based on religion, material/economic importance, or historical sentiment, culture guides the foods we should and should not consume.

Yet here's the thing that gets me every time. I know all of this and it still doesn't matter. I won't eat horse any more readily than I would eat dog, and while I know there is some personal sentiment involved, I don't think it's just about my personal attachment to these animals. After all, I can't imagine myself eating cat either, although I don't much care for cats in general and have never had a close relationship with one. In parts of South America, people eat guinea pigs. I have never had a guinea pig as a pet, but to me they simply don't constitute food. I don't find the prospect of eating bugs emotionally upsetting but I do find it stomach turning.

Part of what is so interesting about the European "horse meat scandal" is the fact that horse's role in Europe and Canada is quite similar to its role in the US. In all these places horses are used in work, and primarily for recreational purposes - whether as pets or sport horses. However, perhaps - and I'm no expert on this so I'm certainly open to alternative suggestions - the meaning of the horse still differs slightly in these varied contexts. The horse, in American culture, holds a special, almost mythical place that I'm not sure it holds in European or even Canadian societies. In the US, the horse dominates our lore about the Native American (becoming an integral part of both "noble savage" and "dominating white man" discourses). The horse is a vehicle for hero stories on race tracks and in movies about race tracks (the fact that these animals' realities rarely reach mythic standards is a totally separate issue). The horse represents the American West. Our relationship with horses comes to represent our relationship with nature and as such, the relationship between nature and culture (see Elizabeth Atwood Lawrence's Rodeo: An Anthropologist Looks at the Wild and the Tame). Thus, in addition to my personal relationship with the animal, all of these cultural factors shape a broader, shared cultural meaning of the horse that I draw upon when deciding how I feel about its consumption. As an anthropologist, I can intellectualize my culture all I want, but I cannot completely remove myself from it.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

That girl vs. this girl . . . from Hillary

Inspired by my friend and colleague's recent blog post and a visit from a long-time friend, I want to revisit the concept of the changing or evolving "self"both personally and, of course, anthropologically. First, let's take a quick glance at the personal, using the same template Hillary used - "That girl vs. this girl" a ten-item comparison of myself ten years ago to myself today.

That girl . . . 
1) Lived and worked on a horse farm in beautiful rural central Virginia.
2) Was undeniably restless and set to embark on 6+ more years of vagabondish wandering adventures, both stateside and abroad. She didn't ever want to live anywhere for more than a year.
3) Rolled her own cigarettes, wore Carhartt insulated overalls daily, and didn't bat an eye at spending a week's salary on a pair of shoes.
4) Had a BA in Anthropology but wasn't sure what kind of career path she wanted to follow.
5) Wrote poetry while walking, mucking out stalls, or riding through pastures; then performed the poems at open mic nights.
6) Hated the holidays and always asked to work during them so she wouldn't have to deal; she was often called a "grinch" for this.
7) Had no interest in children but buckets of affection and maternal instinct toward dogs, horses, snakes and other non-human creatures.
8) Got tattoos to mark changes in life and self.
9) Still thought she could save the world, or at least other people.
10) Surrounded herself with brilliant, creative, thoughtful people who challenged her to grow and experience new things.

This girl . . .
1) Has been living in the same town for almost 6 years (the longest she's lived anywhere since she was 9 years old!) and just bought a house with her husband.
2) Hasn't smoked a cigarette in at least 4 years and doesn't miss it at all.
3) Gets tattoos because they are beautiful.
4) Is happily directing that maternal instinct toward the funniest, sweetest dog ever.
5) Dropped out of nursing school and abandoned a funded PhD in medical anthropology, but wound up with a master's, a PhD, and career that she loves.
6) Still has a ton to learn about everything, and is grateful to be surrounded by people and critters who are wonderful teachers.
7) Is generally not all that restless. But when she gets "itchy feet" she annoys her partner by endlessly shopping for airline tickets and reading about possible adventure destinations.
8) Climbs rocks (this could never have been predicted), rides her badass horse, and knits in her spare time or to relieve stress.
9) Is still not really a big fan of holidays...or her birthday...except Tour de Fat. Tour de Fat is the greatest!
10) Has lived in 9 states and 3 non-US countries, and has finally figured out that, for her, home isn't a place, it's a person.

An anthropology of change
This little blog was a fun enough exercise in personal reflection, which seems appropriate this time of year and given some major milestones I've experienced in the last year. But it also makes me think about the concept of change in American culture, a concept that I vividly remember writing about on my MA exam back in 2007 (I think it was 2007 anyway). 

In American culture, we are certainly fixated on the individual. We are obsessed with individual rights (both in good and bad ways), we have great admiration for individual creativity and can appreciate out of the box thinking, and we view the self as something that changes over time, that we can expand and grow and improve. Reflections such as "that girl vs this girl" are fun, for sure, but they are also culturally meaningful. This isn't a reflection on experiences, but an examination of who I "was" versus who I "am". And, as an American, I embrace this fully. I think it's good to think about the ways I have changed - both for the better and, although maybe less fun to think about, for the worse. People always say we become more rigid, less willing to change as we get older. I think this exercise in reflection may be a great way to check in ten years down the road. But I wonder, what, really is "self"?

There are some scholars out there who have talked extensively about the concept of "self" and how this self may or may not be seen as maleable in different cultures. The concept of a maleable or changeable self has actually been suggested to put a person at risk for eating disorders or make plastic surgery more culturally acceptable. On the other side of this, cultures that see the self as core, unchanging, a given, may actually be protective against some of these things. What part of the "self" must be malleable to make a particular individual (and all those who share a culture with her) vulnerable to an eating disorder? Some have talked about a linking of the socioeconomic self (one's status) to the physical self. Some have talked about cultural ideas about normal or abnormal behaviors and how, once new norms are internalized, one's sense of self has changed. But I have rarely seen an anthropologist explicitly define this word that we throw around so often.

And when I turn the lens upon my own above reflection, and examine my own changing "self", I am forced to ask, who am I really? For example, as a young person, I had ideas about myself and engaged in certain behaviors that felt core, central to who I "truly" was. Wanderlust was an enormous part of this self. I moved often, I adored the excitement of learning a new neighborhood, culture, language, and making new friends who were perhaps nothing like and possibly wouldn't even like my friends from past lives/adventures. But, as my little reflection shows, wandering is no longer a part of my life. The desire to wander still comes in waves, but it is controllable, "wanderlust" is not necessarily inherently linked to "wandering". So is my true "self" the desire? Or is it behavior? In my research, active methamphetamine users are constantly fighting to avoid the many labels ascribed to them: tweaker, addict, meth head, etc. They may say, "I'm addicted" but most don't view their drug use as a core part of their selves. 12-step programs sort of do though. They view "addict" as an unchangeable part of the self and "drug use" as the changeable part. So again, it seems that in any consideration of the concept of self, or of behavior, or of change, it is worthwhile to explore what we mean by self, and which parts are malleable or not.