The Terrible Love of War

The author James Hillman wrote a book a few years back entitled A Terrible Love of War. In it, he discusses the complexities and paradoxes of war in the human psyche. I was struck by how many of these same contradictions and brutalities described rape culture and the violence that exists within each of us. That which we consider relative peacetime is often anything but. This is why Hillman titles one section “War is Normal” and another “War is Inhuman”. Both are true and neither is exclusively so.

When as I teenager I was dragged along to a very conservative Baptist church, a saying was frequently heard. You are the devil and the devil is you, it went. I don’t believe that Satan exists in a physical form, but I do believe that under the right conditions, people can be easily compelled and motivated to commit acts of pure evil. And I also believe that even good people can forsake their compassion and act viciously. A supposedly civilized nation participated in mass murder, complicit with a dictatorial group of armed thugs. I am speaking of Nazi Germany but I could speak of many similar situations throughout history. It could easily happen here and to each of us. Sometimes circumstances create a breeding ground for atrocities. Sometimes protracted trauma reduces each of us to the role of savage.

Sexual assault and rape has long been a particularly gruesome aspect of war. It has been used for strategic value. Genghis Kahn instructed his hordes to rape the women of every village he conquered. The offspring these women would produce would be part Mongol, and, it was thought, less likely to be future enemies. During Vietnam, American soldiers raped Vietnamese women, often out of vindictiveness, sometimes responding to the loss of their own comrades in battle. In 2004, detainees at Abu Ghraib were sexually assaulted while in prison, also by American troops. If “normal” means sadly commonplace and frequent, war is normal. Sexual assault is normal. Rape culture is normal.

We are the devil and the devil is us. Groups which speak out against this sort of madness must take into account more than the politics of righteous indignation. If there were really such a thing as strictly evil people and evil intentions, it would be easy to identify likely offenders and cast a light upon active abusers. Each of us can be transformed into something resembling a psychopath, especially in times like war where most, if not all established rules of conventional morality are no longer in play. In the civilian world, murder will get you the death penalty. In war, murder will win you a medal of honor. But the cognitive dissonance needed to kill another human being rarely stops there. It’s easy to rationalize the death of non-combatants and to reduce everyone not an immediate ally to less than human.

War is inhuman. Sexual assault is inhuman. Rape culture is inhuman. We are inhuman. We are normal? What is normal? Normal depends on circumstances, as I said, but circumstances are subject to change. Now, this is not meant to make anyone feel guilty, just to state that lines we think are sharply drawn from now until Judgment Day are not always set in granite and concrete. Our obsession with justice and vindication must also contain an aspect of self-evaluation. If I am to understand another, I must look first at myself. Perhaps it could be said that we live in the midst a low-grade war already. In some places, the risk is greater, but the war is always raging somewhere.

Don't Ask Me Why

All the waiters in your grand cafe
Leave their tables when you blink
Every dog must have his everyday
Every drunk must have his drink

Don't wait for answers
Just take your chances
Don't ask me why

All your life you had to stand in line
Still you're standing on your feet
All your choices made you change your mind
Now your calendar's complete

Don't wait for answers
Just take your chances
Don't ask me why

You can say the human heart
Is only make-believe
And I am only fighting fire with fire
But you are still a victim
Of the accidents you leave
As sure as I'm a victim of desire

All the servants in your new hotel
Throw their roses at your feet
Fool them all but baby I can tell
You're no stranger to the street

Don't ask for favors
Don't talk to strangers
Don't ask me why

Yesterday you were an only child
Now your ghosts have gone away
You can kill them in the classic style
Now you parlez vous francais

Don't look for answers
You took your chances
Don't ask me why
Don't ask me why

Short Story, Part Two

For those who have not read it, or want to refresh their memory, Part One is here.

________________

Part Two

The criticism I got was much more subtle. I rarely got a cross look from a stranger. Instead, I got concerned conversations with my father. Dad wanted me to know that her looks were going to only diminish with time. Was I prepared for this? If I’d had the ability to speak frankly with him, I’d have told him that I was quite attracted to her body, even in all its supposed imperfections of age. He seemed not to understand me. And it was some version of this same talk that I got from other men, but never all that frequently. Men usually left us both alone, but as noted before, the sideways glances from other women were copious and sometimes smarmy.

I was never sure why, really. It would be tempting to assign it to simple jealousy. We often criticize the people who have what we secretly want. Perhaps they were envious that she’d been bold enough and direct enough to win me over. The attraction had been immediate and she had not let propriety or nerves overwhelm her desires. The day a friendship became much more I strummed a guitar and sang as she applied gloss to a new painting. She sat on the floor as I occupied the couch nearby, my legs stretched out in front of me. Lengthy breaks between songs were filled with conversation.

Over time I have learned to second guess my intuition, confusing a desired outcome with the real state of affairs. But in this case, my predictions were accurate. What began innocently enough eventually led to her grabbing me frantically by the hand as we ran to the bedroom. The beginnings of such things always managed to consume my thoughts and encourage contemplation. I have always been a fan of the way things start out at first, as there seems to be something magical about them. Maybe it's only the flood of brain chemicals released at such times, but I'd rather be romantic than scientific.

I even think fondly about the minor tragedies. While in college, a girlfriend once startled me by leaping upon me, apparently intending that I would catch her and drag her off elsewhere. Had I been given some warning, or had expected it, I might have very well managed it. Instead, she bounced clumsily off of me, displaying a look of mortification in the process. I tried my best to calm her nerves, but she could not be consoled. The effect would have been extremely arousing had it been done properly. I hope I would have been able to catch her. And those were the good days. I am no fan of the conclusions. Towards the end of our relationship, she told me that she would only sleep with me three more times, so I better pick my dates carefully. And, true to her word, I had three more intimate encounters, then was cast aside. I still don’t understand her reasoning.

I return to the present day. When waiting for my car to be fixed, I struck up a conversation with two other people in the same situation. Both were female. I was basking in the glow of new relationship fixation at the time. One of the women found it sweet the way I spoke of her fondly, but assumed we were close to the same age. I deliberately did not reveal the age difference because it wasn’t all that important to me. This unspoken assumption was proven untrue when she arrived, her hair still wet from the shower, pulled back, wearing no makeup, and looking very much her age. I even had to admit that she did not look her best.

The woman I had been conversing with was shocked. Her eyes went glassy and she was momentarily struck speechless. This was also a popular means of expression for those processing our relationship. I wondered if the reverse were true whether the effect would be the same. Sarcastic comments about trophy girlfriends from both sides of the aisle could be safely expected. Oddly enough, the only person who seemed to understand my reasoning was a mentor whose homosexuality never got in the way of providing helpful relationship advice in a heterosexual context.

I had tried that, too, finding that my feelings toward men were only sexual in nature. Once the act itself concluded, a distressing self-loathing set in, and I couldn’t get away fast enough. After I broke at least two hearts, I recognized that it would be best for me to keep this part of myself in the world of fantasy only. Still, I never renounced my homosexual side, learning the vernacular and living vicariously through the lives of those inclined to kiss and tell. I fashioned myself into a colossal tease and hypocrite, since nothing annoyed me more than those who held aloft potential that never blossomed into action. It was safe and required nothing out of me more than the minimum.

Late Post Today

I'm going to post later today. Posting the short story in serial form might be a good strategy. Last week I posted Part One, so I will try to have Part Two up in some workable form by the end of today.

Rejecting the Messiah Today

Those with nothing to lose will always gravitate to a message that removes hierarchy, in which we are all equal. It is a perspective we say we accept as part of being Americans. But we also seek the security of affluence. When Jesus famously spoke to the rich young man who wanted to know how to reach the Kingdom of God, he outlined the difficulty, but not impossibility of reaching a Utopian state. The rich will always be able to afford one more distraction that stands in the way of true enlightenment and guidance. We too, in our pursuit of profit, have also had our focus and priorities dictated by our pocketbooks, not our hearts. It is why, in large part, why we find ourselves where we are now.

The Samaritans were a mixed race of people, one not fully Jewish. At a time when proving complete purity was next to Godliness, they were routinely despised. The Parable of the Good Samaritan refers to the noble protagonist as “cursed”. The Jewish lawyer to whom Jesus tells this story cannot bear to even say the name of his spiritual stepbrother, referring to the Godly Samaritan only as “the one who had mercy on him”. There was surely no love lost here.

The Samaritan religion was a hybrid form of Judaism and idol worship, which Jews found intolerable. Of course, as we know, the Jews made idols of their own creation while pretending otherwise. Forced to live apart in a separate section of the land, considerable resentment existed between both groups. But in the irony of ironies, Jesus himself would be viewed as the Messiah only by the so-called mongrel Samaritans. Rejected by his own people, despite considerable scriptural evidence from previous prophets, he would eventually be killed.

The story by which the Samaritans came to this momentous conclusion begin with Jesus’ conduct towards a woman considered sinful. During a trip, it was necessary to pass through Samaria. Jews never tarried long here, staying only as long as necessary. And they certainly never engaged Samaritans in conversation, especially not Samaritan women. Jesus broke from established custom here quite deliberately. A Samaritan woman he spoke to at an ancient well, one that had belonged once to the Jews had been married multiple times and had a bad reputation as a result. In a time where marriage was sacred and culturally essential, she was living in sin. So he could have been more than forgiven for not even bothering to talk to her.

The disciples return from their purchasing food in town and are amazed to find Jesus talking with a woman, but none of them were bold enough to interrupt the conversation. What Jesus did was against all that they thought to be proper conduct for a Jewish man. “The spirit of the Rabbis is shown by their later precept; namely: "Let no one talk with a woman in the street, no, not with his own wife."” [J. W. McGarvey, The Four-Fold Gospels, page 150].

The woman soon leaves, but in such a hurry that she leaves her waterpot behind. What she had learned drove out all thoughts about why she originally came to the well. She excitedly tells the men of the city that there was a man by the well who knew everything she ever done and that possibly he is the Christ. She has gone from seeing Jesus as another Jewish man, to a gentleman, to a prophet, and now the Christ. But being a woman, it wouldn’t be seen as proper to assert the fact so plainly. She is giving the men of the city room to judge for themselves.

But while it is factually true that Jesus’ own people will eventually reject him, their reasons are complex. Some, like the wealthy rabbi Nicodemus are secret followers. Afraid of the consequences of active support, they never overtly display favor. Nicodemus approaches Jesus under the safety of cover of night. Judea was an occupied territory under some degree of Jewish control, but still very much under the sway of Rome. The few rights of self-governance Jews had been granted could always be revoked. And there were certainly those who made a living working closely with the occupying Romans. It made good business sense.

Jesus’ ministry threatened all of this. Those with their own agendas and axes to grind alternately feared and admired this charismatic young man of modest birth. The prophets of many past ages had predicted that the Messiah would come from a small town in the middle of nowhere, even naming the very village. But this didn’t exactly fit the profile of those who would rather substitute their own leadings for those of God. This is a trap we must avoid falling into these days. Careful discernment and critical thinking will guide us along the path we must pursue. Ego and self-interest have been the demise of many who would do right. An old Quaker saying I often return to concerns the tension between profit and piety. “Quakers came to Philadelphia to do good and did very well, indeed.”

Who among us would walk through Samaria today and find value in it? If I am to be honest, I often rush through many Samarias where I am the minority. Mistrust and fear are commonplace here and I would never think to stop and chat with anyone. The same resentments often bubble up to the surface, especially when society has deemed them not like me and not worthy of my attention. For the poor and the marginalized among us, should a Messiah figure arrive, he or she will be given an audience not present to those who live on the right side of the tracks. We can afford to doubt or to refuse to see truth. They cannot.

Late Update

I am en route back home as I type this out. My bus didn't depart until 3, so I spent time doing other things online at a Starbucks. For the life of me, I cannot understand why any large establishment would have only one bathroom. A native told me that this was commonplace for Tribeca, but I fail to see the logic. Instead, one had to wait for five to ten minutes at a time just to use the facilities.

One can never see all of New York in three and a half days. Nor did I expect to, really. The last time I visited I was here for ten days consecutively playing tourist and only managed a fraction of my wishlist. What I will say is that I enjoyed Meeting for Worship at the historic Fifteenth Street Meeting. What troubles me is their attendance woes. A Meetinghouse that sits several hundred only had 35 in attendance. A vocal ministry delivered during Worship made this problem quite clear. The size of the Worship space made the small turnout even more pronounced.

One wonders if this is also true for the other Meetings in the area.

I also was glad I made a minor pilgrimage to the Stonewall Inn, which is where it all began. In spaces that are heavily queer, I must admit I feel conflicted. Much of my own non-straight identity I often suppress out of shame, but in a setting where it is acceptable to display same-sex attraction, I begin to loosen up a little. It makes me wonder how I'd respond all the time if homosexual expression was as commonplace as heterosexual expression. I found it both liberating and overwhelming. I'd love to know if other bisexual folks feel the same way I do.

Today's Favorite Picture

NYC #2

My Favorite Photo Thus Far

Quote of the Week

"History is bright and fiction dull with homely men who have charmed women."- O.Henry

NYC #1

NYC #1, a set on Flickr.

Saturday Video

I would ordinarily never post a video like this here. Not only are the lyrics inexcusably misogynist, but they are repetitively banal. The group themselves (Prodigy) tried to deflect criticism by saying that they were really talking about being energetic and intense. Possibly, but I personally don't buy it.

The music video, I believe, was meant to speak to the song's detractors. My apologies for those of you who haven't seen the video, but suffice to say what we expect of our hedonistic main character is not what we are granted in the end. Does reversing the genders make this sort of conduct any more or any less acceptable, to say nothing of this song?

Building community in challenging times

An acquaintance of mine has, at age 27, reached the time in life where her friends have begun to get married in en masse. She confessed to a group of us recently that frequent travel has depleted her savings and her vacation days. While it is indeed a blessing to have so many fond associates, complicating her situation is the transient nature of those she knows well. She herself has lived for a short time in three separate cities and attended both undergraduate and graduate school in separate cities. Among East Coast liberals, this is pretty commonplace.

By their early thirties, most people I know have lived on average, three to five places for extremely short periods of time. Often their jobs demand it. Often such conduct is considered essential when rising up the ladder towards career advancement. This is partially a cultural mindset and also indicative of blue state privilege. By contrast, few people with whom I went to school back in Alabama were such prodigious travelers, unless, of course, they chose the military as their career. Many people who graduated high school with me are quite content to live and die in Birmingham. Neither system is beyond reproach, nor without its benefits.

I bring this issue up partially because it may explain our challenges in finding community, feminist or otherwise. To combine two lifestyles I’ve brought up, I’ll share that I once dated a woman who had been raised an army brat. Due to the fact that she was forced to uproot and move frequently throughout childhood, she had major adjustment issues and abandonment fears. She would make friends somewhere, and then have to leave and start over again somewhere new. Should I not be available, she would deliberately surround herself with at least one other person at all times, especially while out in public. She would never take her meals alone and would beg others to just be present, even if they weren’t hungry. Her story may be unusual, but it might also explain a few of my questions.

Building community in any form is difficult because of how diffuse we have become. In my own religious work, for example, planning events and functions is complicated by how many people have jobs which require frequent travel. Establishing any kind of leadership continuity is difficult when most people can only truthfully commit to at most two years of direct service. Most committee membership does not take this into account, demanding four years at any position. Established systems were never designed to accommodate this much moving back and forth.

I return to the subject of marriage. Several people I know well have had their own weddings in the recent past. Fun aside, I’ve only attended one or two in five years’ time. Part of this is because I’ve never really made much money, but it’s just not a high priority. This may well be a significant gender distinction, but I usually can think of better ways to spend my money. And not only that, I’ve tried to make friends where I am, not returning continually to past stops along the way. Newcomers to DC have often stated that they reached out to Quakers when it grew too lonely to call friends from other cities and life stages. I think holding on to past experiences is fine, but moving forward requires the bravery to find new friends.

Internet activism like Feministing is important. For the uninitiated, Feministing is an interactive Feminist website designed for young adults like myself. Indeed, I would much be all the more worse for wear had I not found it. However, we are still social creatures who crave and need interpersonal contact. Sometimes that may not be possible due to distance, but I’m sure that there are feminists out there who routinely interact with each other online, live close by, and may not recognize how easy it would be to meet up in person. I think it takes a blend between offline and online to really form sufficient bonds between those who share a common interest. Constant travel is unsustainable and, should our economic woes persist, may become too expensive to continue. We may have to conform to that which we cannot change overnight, but neither should we let an isolating model dictate how we live every aspect of our lives.

From Truman's 1948 Democratic Convention Acceptance Speech

Does any of this sound familiar? What sounds unfamiliar?

Senator Barkley and I will win this election and make these Republicans like it -- don't you forget that. We'll do that because they are wrong and we are right, and I'll prove it to you in just a few minutes.

This convention met to express the will and reaffirm the beliefs of the Democratic Party. There have been differences of opinion, and that's the democratic way. Those differences have been settled by a majority vote, as they should be. Now it's time for us to get together and beat the common enemy -- and that's up to you.

We have been working together for victory in a great cause. Victory has become a habit of our Party. It's been elected four times in succession, and I'm convinced it will be elected a fifth time next November. The reason is that the people know that the Democratic Party is the people's party, and the Republican Party is the Party of special interest, and it always has been and always will be.

I'd like to say a word or two now about what I think the Republican philosophy is; and I'll speak from actions and from history and from experience. The situation in 1932 was due to the policies of the Republican Party control of the Government of the United States. The Republican Party, as I said a while ago, favors the privileged few and not the common everyday man. Ever since its inception, that Party has been under the control of special privilege, and they concretely proved it in the 80th Congress. They proved it by the things they did to the people, and not for them. They proved it by the things they failed to do.

I suggested that the schools in this country are crowded, teachers underpaid, and that there a shortage of teachers. One of the greatest national needs: more and better schools. I urged the Congress to provide 300 million dollars to aid the States in meeting the present educational crisis. Congress did nothing about it. Time and again I have recommended improvements in social security law, including extending protection to those not now covered; increase the amounts of the benefits, reduce the eligibility age of women from 65 to 60 years. Congress studied the matter for two years, but couldn't find time to extend or increase benefits. But it did find time to take social security benefits away from 750,000 people, and they passed that over my veto.

Now everybody likes to have low taxes, but we must reduce the national debt in times of prosperity. And when tax relief can be given, it ought to go to those who need it most, and not go to those who need it least, as this Republican rich man's tax bill did when they passed it over my veto on the third try. The first one of these tax bills they sent me was so rotten that they couldn't even stomach it themselves. They finally did send one that was somewhat improved, but it still helps the rich and sticks the knife into the back of the poor.

Travel Day

By the time you've read this, I will be on my way to New York City. I may have wifi, but I'm writing this placeholder post in case I don't. It may be just as well because there's a good book I've been meaning to finish. If I finally get through it, I'll probably write a review, and it will likely be posted here.

How the Mighty Have Fallen

Nearly three years ago, Barack Obama rode a wave of massive popularity all the way into the White House. The movement grew and swelled with every passing day, inspiring ordinary Americans to become enthusiastic and involved with politics again. The excitement of those days has now been replaced by the dazed look I see on the faces of so many people. It seems incomprehensible to see how far his star has fallen since then. The memories of earlier times have until recently been strong enough to keep the bottom from falling out as regards his popularity and legislative agenda. But so long as economic woes persist, Obama's approval rating has nowhere to go but down. This may have been a problem he inherited, but he was elected in part to fix it.

If Barack Obama should only serve one term, I am fairly certain that historians will deem him only an average President. He will likely be remembered most for running a superb campaign and passing Health Care legislation. Following that, he will receive credit for presiding over the killing of Osama Bin Laden. But his glaring ineffectiveness and puzzling decision-making will win him consistently low marks, especially after he set the bar up to the stratosphere and then acted like a flawed mortal for four years solid. We are still coming to terms with deep disappointment. What we thought we were receiving has failed to materialize. I myself never thought I’d need to hold my nose while marking an X next to the name “Obama” on my ballot.

The purveyors of truth and news also seem to be unsure of how to take this recent development. Obama even managed to win over the usually cynical and frequently skeptical during a landmark year or so of campaigning. Some feel betrayed, but most feel numb. Others are angry at themselves for being true believers. "How could this be?", they say. Candidate Obama seemed to encapsulate all the best things about the United States, thrilling millions of people with the promise of better times and an efficient, reform-minded government. Countless articles soon to come will attempt to answer the question of Why Obama Slept, but until then, our faith continues to erode.

Do we even need a Superman to save us from ourselves? Must that Superman come in the form of a smooth talker with great plans but without the political skills to put them into action? The more I contemplate our fate, I continually wish for a Chief Executive more like Harry Truman. Truman spoke his mind and didn't much care whether you agreed with him or not. He would have laughed at the idea of bipartisan civility. In the end, it was a series of corruption scandals involving high-ranking officials that kept Truman from a second full term as President, much as high unemployment and a fragile economy has slowly drained political capital from our current President. Although wars are never trifling matters in my book, immediate financial woes are front and center in the public consciousness.

It should be said that I am not writing Obama's political obituary. If I was, I would suggest our President next consider being Kenya's leader for a while. It would be interesting to see if he could make up for his father's notable failings. Should Obama win a second term in office, he will need to learn from his mistakes to redeem his historical legacy. As much as he might claim that such things are unimportant, no one gets involved in politics, especially on such a large scale, without the intention to leave a lasting mark. Everyone wants to be remembered for years to come and to have this memory appropriately enshrined so that even those not alive to remember them can place their name.

At the moment, Obama holds company with several other average Presidents, many of whom are now just a name in a history textbook. It will be interesting to see how popular opinion and with it the passage of time will change minds. Some unpopular Presidents have seen their standing improved based on new scholarship. Some, like U.S. Grant, were considered failures at the time and are still viewed dimly today. One can never predict the future or what issues will be important to Americans years from now. But what can be influenced is the present, and present problems have never been adequately addressed by the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

It is indeed strange that a President who came into office promising increased transparency has been so difficult to understand. No consensus opinion exists to explain why. The more or less narrative simplicity of both Bush terms was never in doubt. Now, we seem to have elected a question mark when we thought we were receiving an exclamation point. We all fumble about, as though blindfolded, trying to understand and instead growing ever more confused. Our economic crisis is an existential one as well, and I would just as well we replace philosophy with results. The President retains some goodwill in my book, but the longer his solutions prove ineffective, even a divided Republican Party has a chance to defeat him in November of next year. One jobs bill unlikely to pass except in truncated form is not sufficient to undo a mixed Presidential reputation.

Short Story (Excerpt)

When I was in college, I routinely wrote short stories as part of weekly assignments for workshop. I've tried my hand again at the form, realizing how out of practice I am. Short essay seems to be more my forte. There's a satisfaction at drafting five to six paragraphs and then a conclusion, drawing it all together neatly. But, because I want to challenge myself, I'll enclose what I've written so far. Be aware that it ends abruptly.

A brief note. It is sexually graphic at places and I admit to feeling no small discomfort at sharing it in such a public forum. I wouldn't say that I'm a prude, just mainly afraid of being taken wrongly. It is not autobiographical, though sections are inspired by real life experiences. As a person of faith, I know I am perceived in a particular light, and what is written below may challenge some of those assumptions. This is partially my reason for posting it, to show an aspect of myself I routinely self-censor.

Thus far, it has no title.

________________

In some ways, she seemed her age. In some ways she did not. The times she broke character I could easily see her as a geeky child with a juvenile sense of humor. By this I mean every single time we finished making love she rushed directly to the bathroom. Even with the door closed, I still heard her loudly giggle like a schoolgirl as gravity expelled the proof of my orgasm. I never knew quite what to make of it. It annoyed me somehow, like a bad joke that falls flat.

Even as a child, I had no appreciation of what I always saw as embarrassing, shallow attempts at making others laugh. Toilet humor is designed for the maturity of your typical seven-year-old boy, but I wasn’t exactly average at that age or now. There was nothing funny even then about any of my bodily functions. If her usually straight-faced, no-nonsense personality was not quite so dominant, I might’ve been more offended. I knew in time she’d return to unsmiling adulthood. As it stands, it was a personality quirk, one I might have found fascinating had it taken some other form. I think we all enjoy playing detective at the outset of a new relationship. Finding out about our relationship partner consumes our thoughts and the more complex characters we fancy can produce lots of interesting information to comb through.

As I began speaking about sex, I might as well illustrate my greater point that way. Having never been with a woman considerably older than myself before, I failed to understand the particulars. Like many young men, I believed that intercourse was supposed to be a bit like aerobic exercise. It was to be gasping, forceful, pounding, and high energy. One might as well play appropriately upbeat, motivating music alongside as a soundtrack. By the end, one is to collapse in a sweaty heap on top of whoever has been lying underneath at that moment in time.

You can do that, she said, but it won't work for me. I learned to finesse by way of her guidance. Grabbing hold of my shoulders, she controlled the pace, narrating all the way. I felt somehow like I was a human slalom simulator. She pulled hard first on my right shoulder, then my left, with a kind of inadvertent rhythm. With time, the pressure of her hands and palms on my shoulders grew less frantic. The rhythms came naturally to me. By the end of her tutelage, I could even correctly predict her own climax. Always she let out the same sigh and displayed two glazed eyes staring at nothing, which I think meant that the process had been emotionally intense. And then, of course, she was off to the bathroom.

When not in bed together, we each had our own lives. When, like any couple, our lives intersected in a public forum, we learned how to ignore the stares. It was a guarantee that at every party, someone would ask me whether she was my mother or whether I was her son. The sharpest criticism always seemed to fall on her. Almost none of it was formally vocalized, but you didn’t have to be an expert in body language to pick up on just how weird many thought the arrangement was. It was fortunate that she looked a little young for her age; otherwise the criticism would have been far worse.

Back then, I had neither thinning hair, nor the beginnings of gray around my temples. I looked more boyish than I do today. She kept her true age closely guarded, though I was one of the few who knew it. Sixteen years difference was not an especially difficult adjustment for me, at least. She wanted to stay perpetually young and I was the means by which she attained her wish. I was her fountain of youth, if you will. On occasion, I would fail to follow some frame of reference only available to those within a few years of her, some generational guidepost. She found these to be extremely important and my inability to follow sometimes made her question my role in her life. But it seems that those few moments of self-doubt and insecurity never lasted too long.

And what did I receive from our partnership? Therapist after therapist has tried to diagnose this particular proclivity of mine. It would be too simple to believe that I was looking for a mother. I have one already, you see, one more than capable of being maternal enough to serve the purpose. Nor was I smothered or emotionally dominated by her or any close female figure. The attraction may be unorthodox, but I would not consider it unhealthy. I have my own theories myself, but none has produced much in the way of some satisfactory conclusion. Perhaps I can only say that I find the basic pairing appealing and then I’ll resume justifying it to another soul who finds it intolerably taboo. Honestly, what we have is mostly seen as out-of-the-ordinary and has no doubt been gossip fodder for many.

I just wish she wouldn’t randomly ambush me. The first time it happened I was minding my business, on my way to a routine doctor’s appointment. I was walking beside a waterfall, one that could only be reached by scaling several flights of stairs. She yelled at me, then came bounding down them, one by one. Hey baby! she proclaimed, now standing in front of me. Startled, it took me a few seconds to compose myself. I’ve never mentioned to her how much I hate that sort of behavior, but the next time it happens I know I’ll speak up.

The bystander, a middle-aged woman, who had been walking a few paces behind me scoffed at the whole scene, then continued onward down the sidewalk. It would in many ways be better if I wasn’t as perceptive as I am. The stares I get are nothing compared to the ones other women shoot in her direction. The only thing I can compare it to is the time a few years back that I went on a date with a woman who was 6’2. Apparently even tall men are not supposed to go out with women taller than they are, even if they played for their college’s volleyball team. And it’s even worse for the woman in question, who has been apparently cursed for life to be forever taller than 75% of all men roaming the planet.

Speed Trials

He's pleased to meet you underneath the horse
In the cathedral with the glass stained black
Singing sweet high notes that echo back
To destroy their master

May be a long time 'til you get the call-up
But it's sure as fate and hard as your luck
No one'll know where you are

It's just a brief smile crossing your face
Running speed trials still standing in place

When the socket's not a shock enough
You little child, what makes you think you're tough
When all the people you think you're above
They all know what's the matter

You're such a pinball
yeah, you know it's true
There's always something you come back running to
To follow the path of no resistance

It's just a brief smile crossing your face
Running speed trials standing in place
It's just a brief smile crossing your face
Running speed trials all over the place

Another Edition of Shameless Self-Promotion

At long last, my contribution to a writing project is nearing completion. It is meant to highlight the lives, stories, and struggles of people of faith who identify as disabled. The rough publication date will be sometime this winter, and I'm sure I'll link to it here at that time.

Should you wish to read a bit more about it, what follows is a link to the Harvard Divinity Bulletin. I will be curious to read what others have written.

As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

Trust is a two-way street. This may sound like a given, but its role in establishing equality cannot be reduced to understatement. As I often do to illustrate a greater point, I'll use my own life as an example. Some years ago, I read up on Feminist theory and discourse, finding both much to my liking. Seeking a community where I could contribute to the greater dialogue and learn even more, I found two helpful internet-based communities. I had one slight hindrance. I was a man. It wasn't an obstacle I did not eventually overcome, but I deliberately put myself into a situation where there wasn't an established pattern of men contributing. Male voices were more often than not opposed and skeptical.

By this I don't mean that I was greeted with hostility, but rather that my own ignorance was a stumbling block. Having not been socialized as a woman, I had to radically reshape my perception of myself and my role in the world. In hindsight, this was a very healthy exercise. With this in mind, I still work to address the still-evident inequality between men and women. As I progressed, I learned the value of listening and asking questions. Presuming to know the answers and the proper outcome before all the facts were in--these were attitudes I quickly shelved. But even then, sometimes I made errors along these lines without even realizing what I had done. I think most well-meaning allies do the same thing, regardless of cause or calling, and not just once or twice. But this process of falling short can also be instructive, and it surely was for me.

Marginalized groups and individuals regularly have decisions made for them by someone or something else. In the beginning, without an adequate base of trust established, my views and opinions were sometimes called into question. But before I dwell on failure, they were nonetheless evolving constantly. I rejoiced at every breakthrough, no matter how small it was. I learned to forgive myself should I fall short and resolved to further my education even more. This work was hard and not immediate, which is why, to expand outward, I think we simply don't have the responsible discussions we need to hold around hot button issues of race, class, privilege, wealth, sexual orientation, and gender. When one of these injustices becomes newsworthy, the twenty-four hour cable news networks will gingerly brush alongside these topics. Periodicals and newspapers might go a few degrees deeper than that. Afraid that these controversial topics would grow explosive if fully explored, as a result we never go deep enough to further anyone's true understanding.

Opportunities to grow and nurture trust will never be solved this way. Without trust, the intense, but essential topics we must discuss are hindered by internal prejudice. It is much easier to project one's own life experiences, fears, and phobias. This is why bigotry exists in the proportions it does, across the world. The United States has no sole claim to this conduct. These days, in certain communities, I can confront sensitive subjects without fear of being taken completely out of context. But this is only because I challenged myself up front to do some hard work. The tribalism that is often our undoing insulates and isolates. Those who seem out of place at first are often treated like a stranger in a strange land. But with enough learning and listening, trust grows. It may even be grudging in the beginning, but eventually a healthy working relationship springs up in place of the suspicion.

Despite all the distortions and manipulation over the years, the words of the prophets and notable religious figures have laid out before us a suitable blueprint. To use the words of one:

Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything more than this comes from evil. "You have heard the law that says the punishment must match the injury: 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' But I tell you not to resist an evildoer. On the contrary, whoever slaps you on the right cheek, turn the other to him as well. If you are sued in court and your shirt is taken from you, give your coat, too. If a soldier demands that you carry his gear for a mile, carry it two miles. Give to the person who asks you for something, and do not turn away from the person who wants to borrow something from you."

"You have heard that it was said, 'You must love your neighbor' and hate your enemy. But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven. For he gives his sunlight to both the evil and the good, and he sends rain on the just and the unjust alike. If you love only those who love you, what reward is there for that? Even corrupt tax collectors do that much. If you are kind only to your friends, how are you different from anyone else? Even pagans do that.

These words might not pass the censors or producers today. It might upset the advertisers. It might even threaten the demographics, God forbid. So, imagine, if you will, a radical religious leader speaking to a group of long-suffering people. They could almost be forgiven for wanting blood justice against a long string of persecutors. Subjugated and under the thumb of a hostile foreign power, tempers were high and tension could be found everywhere. The memories of past misdeeds and criminal acts were likely in the minds of many. And yet, Jesus says here to treat occupying forces with love and to resist violence. Trust is crucial here, too. No one said the message was easy.

Another prophet echoed this remarks some two thousand years later. And accordingly, I will conclude this post with them.

And this is what Jesus means, I think, in this very passage when he says, "Love your enemy." And it’s significant that he does not say, "Like your enemy." Like is a sentimental something, an affectionate something. There are a lot of people that I find it difficult to like. I don’t like what they do to me. I don’t like what they say about me and other people. I don’t like their attitudes. I don’t like some of the things they’re doing. I don’t like them. But Jesus says love them. And love is greater than like. Love is understanding, redemptive goodwill for all men, so that you love everybody, because God loves them. You refuse to do anything that will defeat an individual, because you have agape in your soul. And here you come to the point that you love the individual who does the evil deed, while hating the deed that the person does. This is what Jesus means when he says, "Love your enemy." This is the way to do it. When the opportunity presents itself when you can defeat your enemy, you must not do it.

Now for the few moments left, let us move from the practical how to the theoretical why. It’s not only necessary to know how to go about loving your enemies, but also to go down into the question of why we should love our enemies. I think the first reason that we should love our enemies, and I think this was at the very center of Jesus’ thinking, is this: that hate for hate only intensifies the existence of hate and evil in the universe. If I hit you and you hit me and I hit you back and you hit me back and go on, you see, that goes on ad infinitum. [tapping on pulpit] It just never ends. Somewhere somebody must have a little sense, and that’s the strong person. The strong person is the person who can cut off the chain of hate, the chain of evil. And that is the tragedy of hate, that it doesn’t cut it off. It only intensifies the existence of hate and evil in the universe. Somebody must have religion enough and morality enough to cut it off and inject within the very structure of the universe that strong and powerful element of love.

The Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Quote of the Week

"The devil can quote Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness is like a villain with a smiling heart."- William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

Saturday Video

A little mid-90's angst for you.

Postal Service Blues

In the Internet age, time-honored institutions have no choice but to keep up. The US Postal Service's recent woes are no exception. Major government agencies are being forced to cut back and, as we know, even sacred cows like Social Security and Medicare may be pruned judiciously. In a recent Washington Post blog entry, the Postal Service's woes are discussed in detail. To some extent, the agency has only itself to blame. But to look at it another way, Americans retain such strongly favorable memories of the USPS that effort after effort has been made to keep it intact.

The U.S. Postal Service (USPS) is at risk of shutting down sometime later this year as it quickly runs out of cash and piles up billions of dollars in losses. Its business model is clearly in need of a radical overhaul. Not only is the USPS facing a revenue decline due to the popularity of e-mail correspondence and electronic bill-paying, it must also confront a prohibitively expensive cost structure as the result of a highly-unionized labor force. Combine those two factors with regulatory inflexibility when it comes to changing the way the USPS does business, and you can understand why sentiment is so negative these days.

A few popular misconceptions about the US Postal Service need to be corrected first. It is an independent agencies tied to the Federal Government and has not received direct taxpayer dollars since the early 1980's. This is a bit of a curious arrangement, since most other independent agencies serve a regulatory function. Regulation and reform are needed most here, especially with the Post Service's business practices. Its lack of an up-to-date model is partially responsible for its sharp decline. Its generous, some would say excessive pension plan is regularly used as an example to be avoided in other government agencies. But this is just one reason for its loss of substantial revenue.

These days, the USPS retains all the worst aspects of both the public and private sector. It is a hybrid form between the two, and it took a 2004 U.S. Supreme Court decision to establish conclusively that it was not a government-owned corporation. Confused? You are not alone. Even though it is not a strictly defined government agency, it still has monopoly power over our nation's mail delivery, a distinction also upheld by that same SCOTUS decision. These plum assignments have kept it indispensable but also unaccountable for itself and its workings.

Lest I sound like a free-market conservative, let me qualify my remarks. I am no fan of unregulated capitalism and unregulated government. In this circumstance, I believe that giving other mail delivery companies like UPS and FedEx access to routes and methods currently reserved only for the USPS would be to everyone's benefit. Competition has its merits on occasion, especially as a means of ending monopolies. By contrast, the article noted above cites a few changes that could be made internally.

Of course, the “paperless” mail system does not apply to care packages and gifts that you might want to send to loved ones across the country throughout the year. If the USPS is really intent on wringing costs out of the system, it will re-think the power of logistics. Amazon, recognizing the impact that a potential USPS shutdown would have on its ability to deliver packages around the country, has been experimenting with a "locker box" operation at 7-11 convenience stores in the Seattle area. Customers expecting a package would need to stop by an ATM-like installation at a local 7-11 and pick up the item from a special locker box with a pin code. In a similar way, the USPS can embrace an expansion of its services to kiosks within different physical retail locations, while shutting down more expensive branch offices.

Evolve or die might as well serve as the refrain. I myself have seen firsthand the problems that arise with an entity in turmoil. My local post office has regularly given me fits. Recently, an important letter was delivered nearly a week later than promised. It took two separate visits to the actual Post Office, plus three calls to customer service to resolve the problem. And even then, I was never given a coherent reason why the letter was delayed. The automated online tracking system provided unreliable and confusing information. I wager that these experiences are not unusual. An agency this far in the red has likely had to deal with a score of unpopular changes. I would not be surprised if moral is exceptionally low.

Before the current problems, which have been a long time in coming, efforts were made to fully privatize the US Postal Service. These never came to much, but the arguments made are worth considering again. These deliberations primarily addressed residents in rural areas in an effort to ensure they were able to receive prompt and proper mail delivery.

Rick Geddes argued in 2000:

First, basic economics implies that rural customers are unlikely to be without service under competition; they would simply have to pay the true cost of delivery to them, which may or may not be lower than under monopoly.

Second, basic notions of fairness imply that the cross-subsidy should be eliminated. To the extent that people make choices about where they live, they should assume the costs of that decision.

Third, there is no reason why the government monopoly is necessary to ensure service to sparsely populated areas. The government could easily award competitive contracts to private firms for that service.

Fourth, early concerns that rural residents of the United States would somehow become isolated without federally subsidized mail delivery today are simply unfounded. ... Once both sender and receiver have access to a computer, the marginal cost of sending an electronic message is close to zero. (Italics mine)

Some refused to accept the notion that the USPS is technically even a monopoly. But in any case, something must be done, and soon. Should the Postal Service go under, it is uncertain what would pick up the slack. The agency is the second largest employer in the United States. It conveys certain nostalgic memories in our nation's psyche about the joy of receiving word or something of great value in the mail. The friendly local mailman (or postal carrier) has also crept into our national consciousness. A great void would be left should the USPS fold. It remains to be seen whether it is capable or willing to make the radical changes it has no choice but to adopt.

Male Allies as a Defense Against Sexual Assault

When he walked into the party, something about him seemed suspicious. His smile looked more like a leer and at no point was he ever not smiling. Within a few minutes of introduction, he interjected himself into the middle of a conversation I was having with someone else. Someone else happens to be a good friend of mine, a woman who is very physically attractive. Like a bullying defense attorney, he decided that putting me on the defensive by means of the third degree was a good strategy. I was telling a story at the time and he debated every detail. His intentions were to get me to leave in frustration, so that he might talk to her alone.

If I was a different sort of person, this sort of conduct could have led to a fight. But I’m not, and I genuinely feel like taking the high ground in these sorts of situations is best. At any case, his own ineptitude made the solo conversation with my friend very short and unsubstantial. He floated from woman to woman, not making much headway anywhere. Later during the night, we gathered to recite poetry, and his selection naturally concerned an eager man trying to convince a married woman to engage in an affair. I was shocked that no one else made the connection, but perhaps they weren’t aware of what he was implying.

Another friend of mine is sweet, trusting, and somewhat naïve. She’s one of the most genuinely compassionate people I know, but she doesn’t understand the way certain men can act. The Metro station closest to the party was closed for repair, so I knew I’d need a ride. In a city where many people don’t even own a car, I was glad that she had driven there. As is true for her nature, she offered me a ride, but she also offered him a ride, too. I was not sure I was comfortable with this arrangement, but I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to cause a scene, though I’m wondering now if I should have made a big deal out of it.

His conversation during the trip was sneaky, as was his habit of dropping both hands into her lap quickly, pretending it was just a harmless form of body language. By now, I was harboring considerable enmity towards him. My friend never made the connection. Part of me was wondering whether I needed to call it out, as I was seated in the back and privy to everything as it happened. But then again, I told myself that my friend could handle herself. A diplomat’s daughter, she’d lived overseas for most of her life, and in parts of the world where creepy behavior like this would be considered tame.

I was to be dropped off first. This made me uncomfortable. I did not want to leave him alone with her, fearful of what might happen when I was no longer present. Against my better judgment, I again said nothing and got out of the car, walking towards my apartment. But I could not get the situation out of my mind and I felt guilty that I had departed when I did. If you have read this far into my story, you might be expecting something awful to happen next. This was also my fear, but at least in this case, it was gratefully not to be.

I sent my friend an immediate e-mail, expressing my concern for her safety and wellbeing. The e-mail asked if he’d made a move on her and how worried I was. Her reply was very nonchalant. She’d had no problems, but appreciated that I had been protective. What do you say to someone who doesn’t understand sexual harassment unless it is obvious? Maybe by virtue of being male I recognized the subtleties. I’m not sure she’d even understand if I tried to underscore all of the ways that men try to use subterfuge to disguise their real intentions. In any case, this story is not a tragedy. Not every male with sex on the brain is prepared to resort to sexual assault or rape, though circumstances change. Caution can be exercised without paranoia, but I still wish I knew how to inform a few of my female friends about the tricks and slight-of-hand that some men use to get what they want.

I Think I'm a Quaker, But...

I wrote this for my Meeting a few weeks back. I am curious to know whether the challenges discussed here are pertinent for other groups. In some ways, this sort of reluctance to become actively involved in a movement is simply a result of squeamishness around religion. Most active feminists I know are the exact opposite. They are fiery, passionate, and driven. I long for the day that progressive people of faith would adopt something of the same attitude.

__________________

I think I'm a Quaker, but...

I hear some version of this phrase all the time among Young Adult Friends. Our Meeting had a similar dialogue recently regarding membership. Some people took a very hard-line stance. Why wouldn't you want to be a member? What's holding you back? Others believed that membership was a process, a sort of personal development that sometime took years. Membership was not to be rushed into without sober contemplation. Speaking for myself, I know quickly whether I feel a part of any gathering. Should I believe this, I then adopt a strong desire to identify with it. But others aren't necessarily of the same leading as I am and I understand that.

Those reluctant to fully identify as Friends come from various religious or non-religious backgrounds. Some grew up in a faith that was restrictive and may have caused them damage. Some grew up without much of a religious orientation at all. It would seem that the issue is a personal one, but that itself is only a partial answer. A more complex answer speaks to how liberals often perceive of religion, which is to say with much caution. Anticipating the worst before entertaining the best is probably the best way to put it. This is also why Friends tend to be quite private about faith and unlikely to speak about the particulars in public.

It would also explain the fear of identifying too closely and especially not all at once. Here lies the angst and anxiety of a paradox: needing a spiritual outlet, but not wishing to be perceived wrongly by others. I myself have long gotten used to the never-ending conversation that MY Jesus is not like THEIR Jesus and here's why. Some people may not have the stomach or the stamina, but I guess I'm just too stubborn to surrender to one particular interpretation. And when it comes down to Quaker identity, I'm not ashamed to be seen as religious. Sure, that can be a loaded word, but I'd rather we redefine on our own terms what it means instead of giving in to a reductionist belief based on fear and sometimes even outright hate.

It's easy to make assumptions about people based on a minimum of evidence. I can tell you that when someone cuts me off in traffic, I dare not write the first word that comes to mind. It's an instant reflex, but if I really want to follow what I believe, I'll try to see that of God in everyone, even in traffic jams. Even on crowded bus trips. The hard work that needs to be done involves encouraging people to not make snap judgments. We should neither apply them to others, nor apply them to ourselves. Why have we given other people the ability and agency to define who we are on their own terms?

I'll leave it to each Friend to decide for himself or herself whether they are fully or nominally Quaker. I will nonetheless encourage all to contemplate why they hold reluctance in their hearts. If faith and a spiritual (even religious) connection are why we are gathered here, does a fraction work better than the whole? If we strip fear away, what does our heart yearn for most? I do not intend to speak for everyone but merely encourage us to truly examine our leadings. In an ideal world, without the threat of misunderstanding, what words would we use to define ourselves?

Saturday Night Live, Then and Now

I've recently decided to watch the first three seasons of Saturday Night Live. I have noticed many things, but the most notable of these is why it was such a sensation to audiences of the period. Before it became a TV institution, what was originally known as Saturday Night was in many ways a cheaply produced experiment. The set itself, in those early days, could not be more barebones. The glossy look evident now is instead grainy and inexpensive. Driving the show are the sketches, the material, but more importantly, the personalities. Though not every sketch is a winner, the successes are memorable and now legendary.

Each actor or actress has a distinct personality and style, which is why audiences of the time so closely identified with all of them. The show gives off a deep sense of authenticity, one not present now. It’s easy to understand why it became a hit. There’s rebelliousness present, from the daring subject material to the cocky swagger of Chevy Chase during the first season. Gilda Radner quickly branches out and showcases the memorable characters for which she is still beloved. John Belushi’s manic acting style won him his fair share of critical and audience acclaim. Jane Curtain’s deadpan monologues endeared her well to fans. The Not Ready for Primetime Players, as they were dubbed, were more character actor than matinee idol. Each looks so ordinary, which was much of the reason for the appeal. The everyman and everywoman appeal of every cast member only increased the indie cred of the vehicle.

What eventually became abbreviated as SNL served as a launching pad for the film careers of many. To some extent, this is unfortunate because certain actors with greater ambitions were unable to keep their egos in check, creating friction within the cast. Once the show has caught fire, one can observe the strutting and preening present among the young and up-and-coming cast, more so with some than with others. In time, as each episode progresses, the newly confident players realize that they have a huge hit on their hands. Having the benefit of knowing how it all ends up, we know what is coming. SNL often suffered mightily from a lack of consistency because actors and actresses both used it as a stepping stone for greater exposure. Most often, however, it could be said that these instant stars might have been better sticking with television. A very small minority of any cast, then or now, has ever been able to translate small screen success to big screen consistency.

There was much more to the show than the characters played in front of the cameras. The petty rivalries and constant backstage drama make it easy to understand the source material of Tina Fey’s 30 Rock series. What Fey herself must have witnessed over time can be easily supplemented by an exhaustive history of prima donnas and petulant behavior. During Season One, guest star Louise Lasser of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman fame locked herself in her dressing room prior to airtime. Shortly before the show was to air, she emerged just in time to perform the opening monologue, but refused to participate in live skits, forcing the producers to rely on segments taped earlier. For this, she was banned for life from ever appearing again. This is not the only example.

Chevy Chase was a mainstay of the 1975-76 first season, but left at its conclusion to focus full time on film. Arguably the most popular member of the cast at that time, the adulation clearly went to Chase’s head. Like Tina Fey, he anchored Weekend Update during his one and only season, and established a precedent of sarcastic and topical one-liners. But upon his return to guest star two years later, however, Chase’s conduct was now utterly insufferable. Behaving like a little boy throwing a tantrum, he came to blows with new cast member Bill Murray shortly before the show started. Then at the peak of his fame, Chevy Chase would prove to have a lackluster, up and down film career. Not one especially inclined for humility, one could easily make a case that this privileged child of New York City society had only himself to blame for it.

In a massive understatement, the show itself has seen brighter days. Criticizing SNL for its lackluster material and minimally talented cast has become something of a sport in recent days. The original players stayed intact for close to five years, then left at roughly the same time, creating to a downturn in quality during the mid to late 1980’s. A few notable cast members like Eddie Murphy produced memorable material at that stage in SNL's lifespan, but the show suffered as no show ever really stood out as a complete entity from start to finish. Its early to mid 1990’s rebirth made the show momentarily hip again, but then the bottom dropped out when popular cast members like Mike Myers, Dana Carvey, and Phil Hartman left the show. It has never gotten its act together since then.

What is really to blame is that the show no longer has anything to prove. Nearing its fortieth year in existence, it has become a fixture and an institution, when before it was a cheap little exercise in sketch comedy with a pack of talented unknowns. This cycle is far from unique, but the freshness of a previous time may have been lost forever. Perhaps she should expect that this aspect is an inevitability of a sort. The need for a replacement might be seen as a necessity and a culmination of both good ideas and new blood. So long as we don’t take it personally when our own cultural traditions grow stale and ineffectual, we might point the way to others. Reinventing the wheel is unnecessary, but breathing life into old styles could not be more essential today.

Coming Soon

Today I have written a review of the first few seasons of Saturday Night Live. I would ordinarily post the whole thing here, but I've given primary rights to another publishing entity. Once their editor gets around to publishing it on their site, I'll provide the post here. If the topic were something more timely, I'd probably be posting the entire thing here now.

It won't be up until much later in the day.

Quote of the Week

"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be."- Thomas Jefferson

Saturday Video

Because it's campaign season again.

Lover, I'm off the street
Gonna go where the bright lights and the big city meet
With a red guitar, on fire
Desire

She's a candle burning in my room
Yeah, I'm like the needle, needle and spoon
Over the counter with a shotgun
Pretty soon, everybody got one
And the fever, when I'm beside her
Desire, desire

And the fever getting higher
Desire, desire
Burning, burning

She's the dollars, she's my protection
Yeah, she's a promise in the year of election
Oh sister, I can't let you go

I'm like a preacher stealing hearts at a travelling show
For love or money, money, money...
And the fever, getting higher
Desire, desire
Desire, desire

Silent Cinema: The More Things Change...

The Silent Screen has always been an interest of mine, especially viewed through a Feminist lens. Today, we are often inclined to find that films without live sound and spoken dialogue are dull, dated, and of interest only to a small group of aficionados. I have found that they provide insight into gender roles still intact today and their breakdown around male and female. We are still living down the legacy of the Victorian Era, whereby women were simply not allowed to acknowledge themselves as sexual beings. Silent film marks the beginning of the change from one era to another, and the high speed collision of two contradictory cultures can still be felt even now.

One of the oldest of hackneyed clichés, one still in evidence today, is that of the dangerous, ruinous, but sexually available woman. In the silent era, which begins to take shape around 1910 and runs until 1929, acceptable on-screen conduct for actresses was deliberately kept compartmentalized. The Virgin/Whore dichotomy produced actresses whose film persona was that of pristine, chaste, nearly sexless good girls. This often infantilized them, as they seemed nothing more than grownup girls, not fully realized women. The actress Lillian Gish might be the best example of this, as her youthful looks allowed her to play characters far younger than her years, while still retaining a kind of hand’s off primness. The Virgin figure is not far from a proud Prude.

Between two extremes were flappers, who teased, but still adhered to strict codes of conventional morality. They might flirt, but they certainly weren’t going to go much further than that. Clara Bow was the first flapper and It Girl. “It” was a euphemism for sex, and though the times have changed, we still use it. What the phrase really meant was “Sex Symbol”. Flappers were independent, free spirited, and always in search of a good time. But should an offending man confuse her real intentions, she was always quick to put him in his place. If any of these caricatures described Modern Womanhood during the period, the flapper probably comes closest.

At the opposite end of the spectrum were vamps, a shortened form of the phrase “baby vampires.” These women could and did provide sexual gratification, but you’d never take them home to Mother. They promised only danger and eventual entrapment. Male characters were frequently warned to keep well away. Theda Bara was likely the first on-screen vamp to win mainstream popularity. Vamps often were of foreign extraction or minority status, much like the exotic looking Bara who was both Polish and Jewish. This was a decision made deliberately, to ensure to distinguish that American women never acted this way. Bara usually was cast in the role of temptress, hailing from a part of the world that we would today refer to as the Middle East. This is another example of Orientalism, whereby a group of people project their own latent desires, fears, and aspirations onto others that they perceive as not like themselves.

To pivot to the subject of actors, men were also separated into categories. Few of these, however, depended on a combination of sexual availability and common decency. Instead they broke down around basic film personas. The Sheiks were mysterious heartbreakers, usually of non-native origin. Orientalism is present here, too, or at least an obsession with a culture distinctly different than one’s own. The Latin Lover archetype begins with Rudolph Valentino, though it is ironic, to say the least, that Valentino was actually Italian, not Latino. The Rogues were, much as their name describes, carefree playboys whose impulsivity and carousing was usually shown as charming. Sometimes, as in the case of John Barrymore, it was difficult to distinguish between fact and fiction. The Comedians were skilled Vaudevillians, whose prowess at physical comedy had been honed on stage in a slightly earlier era. These are the performers best known to today’s audience. They include Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd. Women sometimes were allowed to let their comedic skills shine, but it was still a boy’s club. Towards the end of the era, a final category emerged, that of the cowboy hero.

Though few these days refer to particular type and category when discussing screen talent, actors and actresses can still easily become typecast. In those days, the studio system was king, and cranking out product was more important than taking one’s time in crafting an artistic masterpiece. The few directors which challenged this model were renegades, whose attempts to commit high art to celluloid regularly soared over budget and were rarely appreciated by the moviegoing public. Female directors, then as now, were not numerous. The only director of the age to have success was Dorothy Arzner. A few years later, now in the sound era, a German actress named Leni Riefenstahl tried her hand behind the lens, and succeeded magnificently, albeit in the form of a Nazi propaganda film entitled Triumph of the Will. Women who take the role of director are still unusual in our own time and often have limited careers with short-lived success.

We may live in a more liberated epoch, but still we live in a world where female characters, to say nothing of women themselves are rarely allowed to be fully integrated beings. We may believe we are more tolerant of other cultures, but we regularly use stock figures from different cultures to say what we are incapable of saying about ourselves. And, we seem to think that entertainment cannot be confused with reality, instead of confronting what our cultural half-truths and even lies say about us. The fashion may have changed and a few things here and there may be dated, but that which was true eighty years ago is true today. We might beg to ask ourselves where real reform begins and ends.

The Tennessee Waltz

I was dancin' with my darlin'
To the Tennessee Waltz
When an old friend I happened to see

I introduced her to my loved one
And while they were dancin'
My friend stole my sweetheart from me

I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz
Now I know just how much I have lost

Yes, I lost my little darlin'
The night they were playing
The beautiful Tennessee Waltz