I Objected To A Sexist Remark, And Contrary To My Paranoid Imagination, It Was Easy


fun at the aquarobics class

I kind of hesitate to post this story, because it might seem like I’m asking for a cookie, and that isn’t my goal here.

At the local LA Fitness, I attend the “swim fit” classes fairly regularly, because it’s good exercise for someone with an iffy knee. (It’s also nice because a lot of the folks in that class are fat.)

One of the instructors is a conventionally attractive young woman who leads the class wearing a swimsuit (of course), and alternates between leading us from the side of the pool, where we can see her clearly and where she can control the boom box, and jumping in and leading us from within the pool.

At one recent class, there was a new student exercising next to me, a large middle-aged guy with a thick mustache. Noticing that I wear glasses in the pool, he said something like “next time I’m going to wear my glasses, too – she’s really worth looking at,” indicating the instructor. I deflected by saying “it really helps to be able to see what the exercise is.”

This sort of thing really doesn’t happen to me often. Significantly less often than once a year. ((Although I often don’t comprehend the words people say to me, especially if someone is speaking to me unexpectedly, so probably it happens more often than I realize and goes over my head.)) For a while it was a feminist cliche to tell men that one way we can help is to object to sexist comments in the locker room, and the cliche has always bugged me a little, because no one ever says stuff like that to me. But now this guy had, and my reflex, shamefully, had been to blow it off.

A few minutes later, he and I again wound up next to each other. The instructor jumped in the pool to lead us in the next exercise, and he leaned to me and whispered “oh, no, stay out of the pool, where we can see you better!” I grunted and moved away.

For the rest of that swim fit class, my mind was occupied with the dude, criticizing myself for not arguing with him, wondering what I should have said. (“Hey, she’s my sister!”). I mentally made excuses: I’m a very shy person; I’m not comfortable talking to strangers; this was my exercise time, and I can’t exercise and criticize simultaneously. And I kept on imagining bad scenarios if I criticized the guy’s behavior. Would people think that I’m a humorless killjoy? Would the guy get hostile and yell at me? Would he begin a relentless campaign of nasty comments to me that would eventually force me to quit going to swim fit class altogether? Would he get his motorcycle gang together and beat me up after class? ((Not that it would take a gang. A sufficiently determined sixth grader could take me in a fight.))

After the class was over, I pulled him aside and told him “hey, I know a lot of women feel bad about going to health clubs because they’re worried guys will make remarks about their bodies.”

He immediately became abashed and said “I know, but I wasn’t talking about any of the students. I was talking about her,” indicating the instructor by nodding in her direction.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter. It’s just completely inappropriate to talk like that about anyone here, including the instructor.”

He became very apologetic, and promised he wouldn’t do it again. I said “thanks,’ and that was the end of the encounter.

The only reason I mention this is because, despite what I was imagining beforehand, confronting him about his behavior and asking him to stop it was easy. It had no bad consequences for me whatsoever; it was actually only a slight bit awkward. And maybe telling this completely unnotable story will encourage some other guy who reads it, if he’s in a similar situation someday, to overcome his fears and speak up.

P.S. A preemptive response: Yes, obviously, there are situations where it might actually be physically unsafe to speak up. But this wasn’t that sort of situation at all.

Posted in Feminism, sexism, etc, Men and masculinity | 25 Comments

Rachel Swirsky’s YA & MG Novel Recommendations 2012, Distilled

This is the distilled list of my young adult and middle grade novel recommendations from 2012, for people who just want to see titles for reference.

PROBABLY ON MY BALLOT:

The Drowned Cities by Paolo Bacigalupi
The Diviners by Libba Bray
Vessel by Sarah Beth Durst
Seraphina by Rachel Hartman

POSSIBLY ON MY BALLOT:

Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo
Ask the Passengers by A. S. King
Every Day by David Levithan
The Broken Lands by Kate Milford
A Confusion of Princes by Garth Nix

OTHER BOOKS I HAPPILY RECOMMEND:
(a partial list)

Dark Companion by Maria Acosta
Hereville: How Mirka Met a Meteorite by Barry Deutsch
Radiant Days by Elizabeth Hand
And All the Stars by Andrea Host
The Brides of Rollrock Island by Margo Lanagan
Cinder by Melissa Meyer
Days of Blood and Starlight by Laini Taylor

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Rachel Swirsky’s Young Adult and Middle Grade Novel Recommendations, 2012

For people who want to see only titles without commentary, a distilled list is here.

This year, I read 40 young adult and middle grade novels that were published in 2012. (That I have a record of; it’s possible that I read others during the year and forgot to document them.) I compiled my list through: 1) books that caught my attention during the year, usually because of familiarity with the author or because of recommendations, 2) contacting members of the Norton jury (the Norton award is the award for young adult and middle grade novels that’s granted by the Science Fiction Writers of America) toward the end of the year for their recommendations, and 3) contacting young adult and middle grade authors of my acquaintance and asking them which books they’d felt passionate about during 2012.

The nice thing about this method is that it allowed me to skip straight to the really good books. I didn’t end up reading the, say, 60 random books that aren’t very good which I might have picked up otherwise. It’s possible that one of those sixty would have blown me away and that’s always a negative of using other people’s filtering, but doing it this way meant that half of the books I read rated highly above average for me, thirty that rated above average, and only 6 that I rated below average.

Since I know the distinction isn’t clear to everyone, young adult and middle grade novels basically represent two facets of the market for children and teens. Young adult novels tend to be marketed at ages 13-20, have main characters around 16, and feature more romantic content (e.g. the characters may be having sex). In middle grade novels, the characters are more likely to have their first kiss, and be around 12-14, and the novels are marketed at ages 9-14. There are finer distinctions than that, and of course the books vary individually from the broad template, but those are more or less the basics. To put this in movie language, CORALINE is middle grade and TWILIGHT is young adult.

MY BALLOT:

I’m still taking some time to think through what exactly will be on my ballot, so here are some likely candidates (order is alphabetical).

PROBABLY ON MY BALLOT:

THE DROWNED CITIES by Paolo Bacigalupi – THE DROWNED CITIES is the sequel to Bacigalupi’s extremely successful SHIPBREAKER. Although the book is set in a future, post-apocalyptic, post-global-warming-floods United States, it deals with issues that affect contemporary nations.

The main character is the daughter of a local woman and a Chinese peacekeeper who abandoned his family when China pulled its forces out. The warlord factions who filled in the void of power have no love for “half-breeds”; girls like her are routinely killed. Before the book begins, one faction captures her and cuts off her right hand. They would have killed her, if she hadn’t been rescued by the secondary character, a young boy fleeing the destruction of his own home. The book opens with both children studying medicine from a doctor who believes in showing orphans mercy, but when a bio-engineered dog/man/warrior shows up, trailed by a warlord’s troops, both children are forced to run again. The boy is captured by a faction and forced to become a child soldier; the girl chases after him, trying to save him from that fate.

Like much of Bacigalupi’s work, this, too, is depressing and often horrific. However, the book avoids the pitfalls of some narratives that deal primarily with the bleak–the book isn’t just a one-note drumbeat of emotion, pacing, or imagery. The characters are fully realized; there are moments of humor and beauty. One-note books often flatten themselves out into something dim and muddy. The variety here allows the emotions of the book–positive and negative–to come across more keenly.

Both viewpoint characters are so well-rendered that I suspect they are the primary reason why the book succeeds as well as it does.

THE DIVINERS by Libba Bray – This is the first book in a series, which generally makes me grumpy, but it does manage to complete a full, satisfying arc, while still leaving tantalizing hints about the sequel-to-come. The story follows several teenagers in the 1920s in New York City, each of whom is gifted with a kind of magical power. The first is a young, white, fun-loving flapper who was banished to NYC after using her gift of reading the stories from items in order to expose the perfidy of a wealthy, influential boy. She becomes the story’s protagonist, but almost as important is a black poet from Harlem who once had the gift of healing, and now helps protect his little brother who has the gift of prophecy. While the book has epic fantasy elements about saving the world through magic, it’s also a successful character piece and historical novel which gives it a broad base of ways in which to tantalize and delight.

The book has a lot of careful, historical details, which I enjoyed, although there were moments when it felt as if the book was giving me a… how do I put this?… stereotypical version of the 1920s? Ish? It felt like it was covering all the bases. Dance marathons and speakeasies and the things one thinks of when one thinks 1920. But I don’t think this is a particular problem per se. I just kind of had a check-list in my mind. There’s the country girl who ran away from home to get on the stage, sort of thing.

What stands in immediate contrast to that feeling, though, is the inclusion of characters from diverse backgrounds. We’re rounding all the flapper bases, but how many books from the 1920s also focus on the Harlem Renaissance? I can envision the check-list as almost a political statement. Here are the things you think you know, see? And you can still enjoy the fringe and sequins. And here are the things that the history books ignore: the untold, subterranean stories.

My reservation about recommending this book as young adult is that the main plot features a serial killer along the lines of H. H. Holmes, and when he appears, the book is dark and gory in an extremely gut-clenching, visceral way. I don’t have an objection to dark material in young adult books–if I did, I couldn’t recommend DROWNED CITIES, for one. But in DROWNED CITIES, it’s very clear from the beginning what you’re in for, whereas THE DIVINERS is a cheerful, Charleston sort of story, with magic and bobbed hair, that suddenly drops into these intense scenes. Also, Bray’s novel is distinct from most sorts of urban fantasy that have a fun theme interleavened with darkness because, well, she’s a very good writer. She brings one into the scene sensorily, vividly; you breathe and feel the murders. There’s a particular detail… I don’t want to bring it up spoiler-fashion here, but if you’ve read the book and want to ping me, I’ll share my shiver moment and see if you shared it.

Anyway, I thought about this, and I decided that the violence really doesn’t disqualify the book from being something I can recommend as YA. It’s not what I turn to YA for — as an adult reader, I want my YA to be predictable in certain fashions, and usually I read it when I’m not ready to give over my spirit to be crushed without warning. But whatever. I don’t think that’s why teens are in the reading game, and they certainly don’t need fussy protection from me. THE DIVINERS is a very good book and I think most teens will enjoy it.

VESSEL by Sarah Beth Durst – A desert civilization is broken into many nomadic parts (ten?), each of which worships one of the gods. Once a generation or so (it might be once a century; I read the book a bit ago), one child from each group is chosen to be the vessel for the group’s god, which they welcome into their bodies by dancing. VESSEL’s main character is such a girl, but when she dances for her goddess to come, nothing happens. Her people declare her unfit and leave her alone in the desert to fare for herself, with only the resources her family is able to hide for her before they depart.

She goes out on a quest to find what has become of the gods. She travels between groups, finding other vessels who have been rejected, and gathering information about why their rituals didn’t work, and a threat from the nearby empire which appears to have colonial ambitions.

I thought this book was a real vivid, fun adventure, the kind of yay-we’re-on-a-quest literature that I loved as a kid and want to love as an adult even though I’m more picky now. This one passed my picky test. I thought the quest journey itself was gorgeously described, and enjoyed seeing how Durst decided to build up religions and civilizations.

Someone asked me recently in email whether this book might be considered appropriative if there were a contingent of Bedouin bloggers who were evaluating it. Honestly, I don’t know. (And if there are such evaluations and I haven’t run into them, I’d be interested in seeing them.) I didn’t think Durst was building her civilization as a Bedouin analog per se; there are a number of nomadic desert groups, and it was my impression that she was building one that shared some of the traits common to those, while not imitating any one group specifically. Other, more knowledgeable readers may see something I didn’t.

The first book by Sarah Beth Durst that I read was ICE which was nominated for the Norton award several years ago. It had some lovely imagery, and some interesting ideas, but overall I thought it was way too fast-paced for me to actually sink my teeth into; every time there was the potential for an interesting scene, the prose just raced past it, as if terrified to ever stand still for a moment and let emotions run their course. Next, I read last year’s DRINK, SLAY, LOVE, about a vampire who gains a soul, which I enjoyed as a quirky, self-aware urban fantasy. This one is even better; I’m excited to see what she does next.

SERAPHINA by Rachel Hartman – SERAPHINA takes place in a world where there are both dragons and humans. After years of fighting, the two factions have made an uneasy truce. Dragons, who can shapeshift into human form (but never quite understand human culture), visit the human kingdom, but are viewed with suspicion. As the time comes for a royal visit from the dragon king, tensions rise, and a young woman who is secretly the daughter of an illegal dalliance between a human man and a dragon woman must navigate the two parts of her heritage so that she can protect the peace.

I’m not sure how much I have to say about this one. It’s just kind of sharp and interesting. The best character is the main character’s dragon uncle who is struggling with the assimilation of human culture and how it changes his draconic-oriented mind. There are lots of cool details about music, since the main character is the assistant to the court musician, and then there are just some randomly cool details, like the garden that exists in a corner of the main character’s mind, which is populated by strange, unpredictable and sometimes dangerous denizens, whom she must take care to tend each night. Also, there’s a demi-species of not-dragons, not-humans, who cling to walls and the undersides of things like geckos, and like to make sculptures, which are bizarre and kind of fantastic.

POSSIBLY ON MY BALLOT:
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Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Single Dads In Film: Yay, or Yawn?

So Melissa at Shakesville was not impressed by the trailer for The End of Love, a new film about “a grieving father struggling to raise his two-year-old son alone.”

It’s not that this, too, isn’t a story worth telling. (I assume.) It’s just that it’s already been told. I have been implored so many times to offer my heartstrings for the tugging on behalf of the privileged guy who can barely get laid what with all the daddying he has to do. Or all the depression he has to overcome. Or whatever.

Meanwhile, try to get a film made about a disabled mother who is raising children on her own while not making enough money at something way more mundane than trying to become a movie star, and see how that goes. BO-RING!

Over at “Feminist Critics,” Ballgame is unimpressed by Melissa’s unimpressed-ness. He praises The End of Love for being a positive depiction of a single dad, and accuses Melissa of being a hypocrite having acted inconsistently because a post she wrote didn’t criticize sexist stereotypes in “Iron Man,” although that post was actually written by a different writer. ((Even if Melissa had written both posts, Ballgame’s comparison would be more point-scoring “gotcha!” than intelligent criticism. Sometimes I feel like writing a careful analysis of a piece of media, and sometimes I just wanna say “the film was fun but the seats sucked.” That doesn’t makes me a hypocrite.))

Ballgame made a more interesting point in comments:

If the existing movie focuses on a relatively under-served segment of the market (such as single fathers), I don’t think it’s fair to say a different movie focusing on an even more under-served part of the market should have been made.

So here’s the conflict: Melissa thinks that we’ve seen lots of movies about how hard it is for single fathers, whereas Ballgame thinks it’s an underserved market.

Some relatively recent films where a lead or major character is a single father: Les Miserables, The Pursuit of Happyness, Finding Nemo, ((In comments, Ballgame – who has never seen Finding Nemo – bizarrely dismissed it by saying “an animated movie like that wouldn’t merit too many points.” What the hell?)) The Holiday, Definitely Maybe, Love Actually, Jersey Girl, Sleepless In Seattle, A Simple Twist of Fate, I Am Sam, The American President, Martian Child, We Bought A Zoo, Dan In Real Life, One Fine Day, Big Daddy, The Game Plan, The Pacifier, Beasts of the Southern Wild, Mall Cop, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Jack the Bear, and Four Single Fathers.

Is that a lot or not enough? Heck if I know. It does show that Melissa is right to say that The End Of Love isn’t breaking new ground with a single dad protagonist.

That said, I want to see single male dads on screen, and I don’t care if it’s already been done. (([[George]] I’ve nothing to say [[Dot]] You have many things [[George]] Well, nothing that’s not been said [[Dot]] Said by you, though? –Stephen Sondheim lyrics from Sunday In The Park With George.)) There remains a cultural narrative that says that only moms can nurture, and therefore movies that push back against that narrative remain valuable.

On the other hand, what about single mothers? I want to see more of them on film, too. In the USA, there are over 5 single mother households for every single father household, yet I don’t think there are over five times as many single mom films as single dad films. And we need pushback in this area also – it feels like there are an endless supply of social conservatives ready to blame single moms for most of society’s problems.

In movies overall, women and girls are slighted. According to media scholar Stacey Smith:

Examining over 5,000 characters, a recent study of 122 G, PG, and PG-13 films theatrically released between 2006 and 2009 showed that less than 30% of all speaking characters are girls or women. Put differently, the ratio of males to females on the silver screen is 2.42 to 1. While on screen portrayals are skewed, the percentage of females working behind-the-scenes is even more abysmal. Across 1,565 behind-the-scenes employees from the same 122 films, only 7% of directors, 13% of writers and 20% of producers were female. This translates into a ratio of 4.88 males to every 1 female.

I think this is the heart of Melissa’s complaint: It remains a lot easier to get a movie financed and made if it’s about a man, especially a white man. There’s nothing wrong with Mark Webber, the white male writer, director and star of The End of Love, having decided to make a film starring himself. There is something wrong, however, in the fact that it’s a lot more likely that we’ll see such a film from Mark Webber than from Mary Webber.

As Melissa said, that doesn’t mean that The End of Love isn’t a terrific movie. ((The main character’s son is played by Mark Webber’s real-life adorable toddler, who was just reacting naturally to his dad. That sounds really neat to me, and a review I read claimed the very naturalistic parenting footage is the film’s best point.)) It’s not about this one film; it’s about how women and girl characters, single mothers included, aren’t given equal treatment in films in general.

P.S. Full disclosure: Like Melissa and Ballgame, I haven’t actually seen The End of Love yet.

Hat tip to Fannie’s Room, who also criticizes Ballgame’s post.

Posted in Feminism, sexism, etc, Popular (and unpopular) culture | 40 Comments

“My Face Became Eyes; My Eyes, Hands” – Translation Strategy and Metaphor

Attar's BustI am on sabbatical this semester to work on a translation of Ilahi Nama, The Book of God, by Farid al-Din Attar. I’ve been working on this book in bits and pieces for the past couple of years, producing first drafts of individual poems, gathering research material, occasionally blogging about both the poet and his book, but I am excited, finally, to be able to devote myself if not exclusively, then certainly substantially to this project. Among the classical Iranian poets I have translated—which is actually not saying much, since Attar is only the fourth—and even among those about whom I have learned in the course of my research, Attar is the one poet whose work is pretty much exclusively devoted to delineating, exploring, meditating on and teaching about the Sufi mystical path. I am not a mystical/spiritual seeker in any formal sense of that term, and there is much within Sufi Islam as I have come to understand it—and I have no doubt my understanding is a very shallow one—that I would not choose to embrace; but there is also, I think, a great deal to learn from the particular shape that the Sufis give to the metaphor, common among mystics in many spiritual traditions, of the road or path to enlightenment and union with the god they worship.

One of the things I did in preparation for my sabbatical was read The Conference of the Birds, a translation by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis of Attar’s Manteq al-tayir, the story of a group of birds who search for the legendary Simorgh, the king of the birds. The hoopoe, the birds’ guide, describes the Simorgh like this:

We have a king; beyond Kaf’s mountain peak
The Simorgh lives, the sovereign whom you seek,
And he is always near to us, though we
Live far from his transcendent majesty.
A hundred thousand veils of dark and light
Withdraw His presence from our mortal sight,
And in both worlds no being shares the throne
That marks the Simorgh’s power and His alone—
He reigns in undisturbed omnipotence,
Bathed in the light of His magnificence—
No mind, no intellect can penetrate
The mystery of His unending state…. (33-34)

At the end of the quest, when they find the Simorgh, only thirty birds remain. Indeed, the entire meaning of the poem rests on a pun in Persian that is not translatable into English. Simorgh means “thirty (si) birds (morgh),” the point being–and this is what the birds discover when they find the Simorgh–that the successful search for God leads you to the discovery that God is already in you, that you are already and always part of God, that, ultimately, there is no difference, no separation between yourself and God if only you are able to let go of this world and of yourself, surrendering to that final, ultimate and absolute oneness.

One of the most interesting aspects of The Conference of the Birds, for me anyway, is what Attar has to say about love, and I will write about that in subsequent posts. For now, I want to take a step back for a minute and consider something Dick Davis says in the introduction he wrote for the volume:

Persian metaphors are rarely the visual images that English readers expect to find in poetry. Instead they juxtapose words which have potent associations in a way that deepens and widens the meanings implied by the passage. If the reader attempts to visualize the juxtaposition the result is often ludicrous. Henry Vaughan’s poem “My soul, there is a country” has a line, “Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles”, which seems to me untypical of English metaphor (it is absurd to try and see a personified Peace with a crown literally made of smiles—what could such a crown look like?), but it would not startle a Persian poet. The metaphor works, if it works, by juxtaposing the associations of “Peace,” “crowned” and “smiles” to convey a notion of benign authority. This is exactly how most Persian metaphors convey meaning. Thus, when Attar compares the Prophet’s face to the moon in one line and the sun in the next, he does not want his readers to visualize the result; rather he expects them to combine the notion of beauty associated with the moon and the notion of solitary splendour associated with the sun. (22)

While I am not persuaded that metaphors in English poetry are so exclusively visual, though I’m not right now going to hunt up examples to support that doubt, Davis’ assertion that the “metaphor mechanism”–if I can coin a really awkward term–is qualitatively different in Persian than it is in English fascinates me. I’ve written elsewhere about the book Metaphors We Live By,by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, and the idea that human beings use metaphor to structure how we perceive and experience the world, but I am not so much interested here in trying to understand the difference between the Persian world view and ours as I am in the fact that Davis’ assertion reminded me of something I had forgotten: that a graduate student in translation at Islamic Azad University in Tehran, Javad Rezaei, used my translation of Saadi’s Gulistan in his MA thesis, “An Investigation on Translation Strategies of Metaphors and Similes in Gulistan into English.”

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Posted in Iran, Writing | 4 Comments

Tucker Carlson on Women in the Military (and some responses)


https://twitter.com/Cops4Labor/status/294302723594129408
https://twitter.com/chrisswartout/status/294302925369532419

And Adam Serwer:

In the US military, a woman’s service is not recognized, professionally or financially, the same way as a man’s. Because women have not been eligible for “combat role” positions—even though they were shooting and being shot at—they were denied access to certain career opportunities. The plaintiffs in a lawsuit the American Civil Liberties Union filed against the Department of Defense over the exclusion of women from combat roles offer great examples of this discrimination. Two of the plaintiffs in that case have received Purple Hearts, and two have received combat medals. One of the plaintiffs, Air Force Major Mary Jennings Hegar, a helicopter pilot, was shot down in Afghanistan attempting to evacuate wounded US service members. She engaged in a firefight with enemy forces and was shot before escaping. Women are already “getting their limbs blown off in war.” Panetta’s announcement will ensure they are recognized for it.

Posted in Anti-feminists and their pals | 64 Comments

Lance’s Harsh Landing

cartoon about Lance ArmstrongI highly doubt that Lance Armstrong will need to apply for demoralizing low-wage work to make ends meet. Dude could live quite handsomely off the value of his real estate holdings alone. But it’s a nice fantasy. The thing that really bothers me about Armstrong is not so much the doping, since pretty much everyone seems to have been doing that, but rather the way he made life hell for people who told the truth about him.

While doing this strip, I noticed that drawing Lance is oddly like drawing his fellow Texan George W. Bush.

Posted in Syndicated feeds | 4 Comments

Cartoon: Copyright Vs. Shakespeare

This cartoon was inspired by a Huffington Post article by Jennifer Jenkins, in which she quoted Judge Richard Posner:

What happens if these underlying sources are copyrighted? As Judge Richard Posner pointed out, “Romeo and Juliet itself would have infringed Arthur Brooke’s The Tragicall Historye of Romeo and Juliet… which in turn would have infringed several earlier Romeo and Juliets, all of which probably would have infringed Ovid’s story of Pyramus and Thisbe.” You get the point — without a rich public domain, much of literature would be illegal.

Many thanks to Mandolin, AKA Rachel Swirsky, who co-wrote this strip. This is the second “Ampersand” strip Mandolin has co-written; the previous one was The Church of Fiscal Conservatism.

[spoiler]Panel 1
Shakespeare, at a writing table, feathery quill in hand, holding up what he has just written to read it aloud.
SHAKESPEARE: “But soft! What light through yon window breaks? It is a lightning bug, and Juliet is the bug’s ass.”

Panel 2
Shakespeare sits, slumps his head into his hands.
SHAKESPEARE (thought): Needs work.
FEDERAL AGENT (from off-panel): HALT, THIEF!

Panel 3
Shakespeare rises and speaks sharply to the Federal Agent who has just walked in. The Federal Agent wears a 20th century suit and dark glasses, and displays a badge.
SHAKESPEARE: SIR! What brings you to my chamber?
FED: This PLAY you wrote, “Romeo and Juliet.”

Panel 4
FED: You STOLE it from Arthur Brooke’s “The Tragical Historye of Romeus and Juliet!”

Panel 5
Shakespeare is using the ol’ “explaining hands” gesture, the Fed points and yells.
SHAKESPEARE: The SEED was Brooke’s, but under my care it has flourished into a DIFFERENT tree-
FED: So you ADMIT it!

Panel 6
The Fed whips off his dark glasses for a panel. He looks so mad that he might eat them.
FED: Answer THIS, smart guy: Why should BROOKE bother writing NEW WORK when second-raters like YOU swipe his stuff?

Panel 7
Shakespeare is beginning to get pissed.
SHAKESPEARE: But sir! Poor Brooke lies beneath the sod. My simple play cannot disturb him now. The ONLY work being stifled is mine own!

Panel 8
FED: YOUR work? HA! Derivative TRASH! If you had any talent, you’d write something ORIGINAL!

Panel 9
SHAKESPEARE: But Brooke’s OWN idea germinated with Matteo Bandello! We are ALL leaves from the same branch, sir! That’s how creativity works!

Panel 10
The FED, who is quite a bit larger than Shakespeare, grabs Shakespeare and shakes him back and forth.
FED: No, that’s how STEALING works! Brooke’s only been dead for THIRTY YEARS. The worms have barely finished digesting!

Panel 11
Shakespeare’s babbling is interrupted when the stern-faced Fed yanks him around to put handcuffs on him.
SHAKESPEARE: But this is MADNESS! Do we not value freedom of THOUGHT? Are IDEAS not the currency of culture? The veritable grist of progress for the social mill? Tell me sir– OW!

Panel 12
Shakespeare, dressed in jailbird’s stripes, sits in a prison cell, loking a bit wistful or confused.
CAPTION: And so Creativity was Saved from a Plagiarist Lout.[/spoiler]

Posted in Cartooning & comics, Free speech, censorship, copyright law, etc. | 19 Comments

Street Harassment, in 1906 and Now

"An American Girl In Italy," photograph by Ruth Orkin, 1951

Jack at Ethics Alarms quotes Emily Moss’ A Letter To The Guy Who Harassed Me Outside The Bar (which I linked to last week). Jack comments:

The amazing thing is that this kind of ritual harassment would vanish with some slight behavioral additions to our culture, many of which once were the norm…

Too many people think that a return to old-fashioned norms would mean that women wouldn’t be subject to street harassment anymore.

Via Pharyngula, a fascinating article in The Believer about an incident in 1906, when opera singer Ernie Caruso was put on trial for allegedly rubbing up against women at the zoo.

When a man wrote in to the New York Times to say he had never seen any improper treatment of women in public places in New York, numerous women quickly responded with assertions to the contrary. Typical were letters claiming that inappropriate behavior by well-dressed men was far from unusual and praising the police prosecution of the case. According to one letter about harassment on elevated trains, “these detestable practices do not seem to be confined to any particular line of cars nor any one class of men.”

So just like now, in 1906 women on the street were being hassled by roachbags. Just like now, some people (mainly men) claimed that no, it didn’t happen, or if it did happen then it wasn’t so bad.

And just like now, the victims were blamed. Caruso’s defenders claimed that the women had led Caruso on with their slutty lady eye glances.

In fact, the named victim at Caruso’s trial was was extremely reluctant to be identified, presumably for this exact reason:

The woman whom Caruso allegedly molested identified herself as “Mrs. Hannah Graham of 1756 Bathgate Avenue, the Bronx,” but reports noted that she had been reluctant to become involved in a police matter for fear of jeopardizing her reputation as a “respectable” woman, and that she submitted her name and address only under pressure by the arresting officer, James J. Cain.

The name later turned out to be a fake.

It’s probably true that we more often hear about street harassment nowadays. But I’m pretty sure that what’s changes is not the harassment part, but the “we hear about it” part.

UPDATE: Jack has updated his post with a response to this post, saying that I’ve misread him. (Wouldn’t be the first time.)

Posted in Rape, intimate violence, & related issues | 11 Comments

Our Loving Each Other Would Not Be Now The Obstacle That It Was Then

This article in The New York Times, by Choe Sang-Hun, fascinates me:

[Jasmine] Lee, 35, who was born Jasmine Bacurnay in the Philippines, made history in April when she became the first naturalized citizen — and the first nonethnic Korean — to win a seat in South Korea’s National Assembly. Her election reflected one of the most significant demographic shifts in the country’s modern history, a change Ms. Lee says “Koreans understand with their brain, but have yet to embrace with their heart.”

Only a decade ago, school textbooks still urged South Koreans to take pride in being of “one blood” and ethnically homogeneous. Now, the country is facing the prospect of becoming a multiethnic society. While the foreign-born population is still small compared with that of countries with a tradition of immigration, it is enough to challenge how South Koreans see themselves.

In 1988-89, when I was teaching English in Seoul to the very privileged men and women who came to study at the hagwon where I worked, my students often used the phrase “one blood” when explaining to me why it was so important for Koreans to marry other Koreans–traditionally, as someone quoted in Choe’s article puts it, “someone born to Korean parents in Korea, who speaks Korean and has Korean looks and nationality. Their reasoning, I remember thinking at the time, i.e., that ethnic and cultural unity was the only way successfully to maintain Korean cultural identity and pass their traditions on from one generation to the next, sounded an awful lot like the arguments against interfaith dating and intermarriage that were part of my Jewish education in the United States. For my students in Seoul–no differently than for my fellow Jews–this kind of exclusivity was not about imposing an ideology of racial or ethnic purity on the rest of the world; it was about encouraging a very specific kind of choice in valuing one’s own cultural and ethnic roots.

Amongst Jews, especially Ashkenazi orthodox Jews–I don’t know if the same is true of Sephardim, Mizrachi or other Jewish commnuities–the terms of that encouragement are very harsh. The scene in Fiddler on the Roof in which Tevye disowns Chava because she has married Fyedka, who is not Jewish, epitomizes this:

Nonetheless, no matter how much your heart might break for Chava or how deeply you might condemn Tevye, there is some wisdom in the position he takes, not in disowning his daughter, but in his belief that the only way to preserve the Jewish tradition he knows is for Jews to marry other Jews. After all, if you want, in any traditional sense, to have a Jewish family, live according to Jewish values, observe the Jewish religion, it doesn’t make much sense to marry someone who does not share those values, or who is unwilling to make the changes necessary in her or his life that fully sharing them will require. This fact–that someone who wants to can become Jewish–separates the Jewish from the Korean version of “one blood” thinking. Indeed, “one blood” is not an accurate label for how Jews see this question at all, for whatever else may be true about the nature of Jewish religious identity–and the prohibition against intermarriage is a religious prohibition–Jews do not racialize it. Antisemites might; the Nazis certainly did; but as far as I know there is no mainstream Jewish group that sees the religious aspect of being Jewish as akin to any of the racial or ethnic categories with which we are familiar, white, Black Asian and so on. There might be disagreement amongst Jews as to which kinds of conversions ought to be accepted as valid; there might be suspicion of converts in some quarters and even discrimination against them; but the idea that conversion is possible and that converts ought to be accepted fully as “naturalized” members of the Jewish religious community is not a controversial one in and of itself.

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Posted in Race, racism and related issues | 3 Comments