A brief rant on Feminism

So I had an interesting conversation with a friend of mine today. We were discussing the upcoming Presidential election and she was telling me how strongly she was in support of Hilary Clinton. While there were a lot of things about Clinton that my friend believed would make her a good president, she was also very passionate about seeing a woman in the oval office. This led very quickly to a conversation about Feminism.

My friend is very clearly a mainstream feminist. I say mainstream because I don't want to make claims to being very well versed in the intricacies of Feminist theory, and also because I think that there is a particular breed of feminism that is very prevalent in everyday usage. This particular strain of feminism tends to see feminism as centering very much on women's abilities to have, maintain, and succeed in careers. Some of these feminists also include certain reproductive rights issues, but the most common thread seems to be career orientated.

I, however, am not a feminist, especially when it comes to the career orientated feminist theories. Unfortunately, as a female anthropologist in this day and age, I'm often assumed to be or accused of being a feminist, but in all honesty, I find the "feminism" I meet in my own daily life to be restricting and quite frankly a little degrading. I had hoped to explain this to my friend this morning, but I don't feel that I quite got the point across, so I thought I'd write about it here. There's no doubt I'll need to explain this to colleagues again and again anyway as my work progresses so I may as well take a moment to get all of my thoughts on the matter together now.

Essentially, my issue with feminism is that it still does not allow me to define or create my own sense of femininity. In trying to liberate women from traditional ideas of femininity, it refuses women the right to embrace, modify or even subvert these traditional ideas. Instead, it insists that traditional female roles must be wholly cast off. Women throughout the world have been able to use their traditional roles in unique, creative and personalized ways that have allowed them opportunities beyond what these traditional ideas seem to provide them. For example, many of the Mexican American women I know are very content in fulfilling traditional roles, but they do so in such a way that provides them with a shocking amount of power, autonomy and familial influence. But many mainstream feminists would still condemn the way these women are living and may even express disgust when one of these women makes claims of contentment.

Essentially, I take the stand that forcing me from the kitchen is equally to locking me in it. And I think this leads us to a larger question. Is, and should, feminism be a quest for equality or for freedom? Traditionally, the American Feminist movement has relied heavily on the term equality, but I have always thought that equality was merely a means to the larger goal of freedom. And if freedom is really what we are striving for, then shouldn't all women be free to express their own conceptions of female identity, whether that be in the workplace, at home, or somewhere in between?

I like to think, and perhaps I'm bending history to my own ends here, that the women who once fought for women's right within this country never meant to create a movement that would go on to restrict women in it's own ways. But it seems to me that is exactly what the feminist movement has begun to do. I don't want to be told that I must be strong and independent anymore than I want to be told that I must be weak and dependent. I know in American culture the terms strong and independent are to be without negative connotations, but, once again I disagree.

To look at this from another angle, I like to think about how this type of feminism would color my work. This view seems to hold that women who perform the wife/mother roles are, without exception, unfulfilled, unhappy (whether they realize it or not) and in some minds, not contributing meaningfully to society. To hold this view would require me to enter a village where most women continue to behave according to traditional ideas of femininity believing that all of the women there are discontented and oppressed. However, based on the short time I've spent at my fieldsite, I find this enormously hard to believe. The women I met generally seemed to be reasonably contented with their lives, had varying degrees of freedom, and were contributing to their community by caring for the next generation, but also in economic ways like weaving, bartering, and various other pursuits. While I there are probably many un-lived dreams in this community of women, I find it difficult to condemn their lives completely.

In short, I fully acknowledge that women all over the world lead lives that are much more difficult than their male counterparts. I agree that women deserve to be valued equally to men, and that they should have the freedom to decide their own lives. But I strongly disagree that condemning tradition roles and ideas in bulk makes any real steps towards rectifying this. I feel that the best way to improve the lives of women around the world is to work more towards giving women the ability to make choices for themselves, even if that means choosing to accept the roles traditionally place upon them.

Alright, I'll probably have more thoughts on this later. But before I run off to bed, I do want to put a general disclaimer on this posting. I don't claim to really know the answer to anything. This is what makes the most sense to me now from the viewpoint I'm currently inhabiting. My opinions can, and hopefully will, develop as I learn more and get glimpses of other viewpoints. So if you disagree so wholeheartedly that it makes you ill, please try and sit tight, because I fully acknowledge that my opinion may change.

"With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do." -- Emerson Read more on "A brief rant on Feminism"!

And down and down we go!

Today was quite a rollercoaster. There were some highs, there were some lows, and there were even a couple screams. But the fact that I'm writing this is proof that I survived to blog another day. Man, I'm one tough cookie. ;)

This morning my alarm went off at 8 o'clock just like it always does, but I must have had a premonition that today was a day where I would be much safer in bed, because not only did I hit snooze, but I set an additional alarm in between the snoozes. That means that my alarm went off every three minutes right up until 8:30. That's a phenomenal feat of laziness for me, but somehow I managed to pull it off. After a full half hour of obnoxious alarm noises, I managed to get out of bed, but I was running terribly late and barely had time to throw some coolant in the car before I left. (I've decided to rename the car from Sissy to Posie. I think Posie fits her better because now when I'm angry I can call her POS for short. :P ) I missed the bus from the commuter lot but I managed to make it to work just in time. It was a beautiful morning though, so I decided to give the day the benefit of the doubt and I was in a decent mood as I settled in to my desk.

That's when the day really started to fall apart. My office computer refused to start up and I sheepishly had to bug our IT department for help. As the nicest IT person in the whole world coaxed my computer back into consciousness, my phone went off. I glanced at the caller id to see who was calling as I fumbled to quickly silence my very loud Stevie Ray Vaughn ring tone. It was my mom. And that was the first big drop of the day. My mom never calls me when I'm at work unless some thing's wrong. I abandoned the still in progress computer therapy session to call my mom back. She was sobbing when she answered the phone. Our 15ish year old dog had finally gotten too sick to go on, and my mom had made The Appointment. She was heartbroken. And while I was upset about the dog, I was devastated by the sound of my mom crying. Death is something I expect from life, and so it doesn't bother me as much as it does most people. But even now thinking about listening to my mom this morning makes me teary...ugh, moving on.

I returned to my desk and after another hour we had both the computer and the email system up and running. Fortunately, I was very productive for th next few hours and was starting to feel a little bit better about the day..for a little while. As the afternoon went on, the slight discomfort in my neck started to turn into an ache and that can mean only one thing: Migraine. Sure enough, by 3:30, I was in full migraine mode. I was cranky, nauseous and most of all, in pain.

At about 4:30, the sky outside my window got dark. Now, I know that I'm moving to a country that is known for it's horrendous monsoon season, but the truth of the matter is, thunderstorms terrify me. I manage to do alright at home, but if I'm out and about, I feel more like a 5 year old than a 25 year old. I took this as a sign that it was time to go. I asked my boss not to notice that I was sneaking out early and took off in the hopes of beating the rain. I didn't beat it. Instead it caught me, sans umbrella, on my way to the car.

So I rushed to the car, doing my best drowned kitten impression and headed towards the freeway. On my way there two things happened; the heat gauge on my car started speedily climbing (apparently, it's the only part of my car that still moves quickly) and I got stuck in awful traffic. So now I'm sitting in traffic with the the heat on full blast and the windows open despite the pouring rain, trying not to let my migraine get the best of me. I jumped off the highway at the next exit, hit up a gas station for a quick coolant refill and headed towards the only other exit out of town. No luck, that was backed up too.

At this point, my head is pounding, I'm soaking wet, my car is so hot I feel like I'm boiling myself, my car is still overheating and I'm back in the traffic jam I started out in. Fortunately, desperate prayers and coolant go a long way, and I finally made it out of traffic and safely home.

I decided that this was a good time for ice cream (my second serving of the day, but I needed the help) and a nap. The ice cream was expectedly delicious, but the nap just wasn't happening. My head just hurt too bad to sleep. Fortunately, my mom called again to say she was feeling better and to find out if I had any migraine meds left. Of course I didn't. I have a scrip for them, but they are crazy expensive, so I usually treat them like emergency miracles and only take them when I have a daytime appointment or work activity that can not be missed. Mom told me that she had some extra pills at the house that I could have, so I decided to splurge and take one, even though it was after hours. (For all you migraine sufferers out there, I highly recommend Amerge, it's amazing!)

The result: Several headache free productive hours. I managed to send all six of the social emails that were outstanding, get registered for my GRE, get my passport stuff in order, get some of my Nepal trip networking done, take care of my brother's bday gift, find a concert my dad would be interested in seeing before I leave, and write an incredibly long and maybe slightly boring blog post. But I'm proud of myself for making some use of this day despite all of my setbacks.

Phew, alright, I think that's it. I'm going to go get that well deserved good night's sleep now! Read more on "And down and down we go!"!

Let's all pretend like this is real work

So I really really ought to be working on my IRB proposal like I promised my sister I would do tonight, but instead I'm writing to you. But because we both know you're a good friend, let's just pretend like this really is helping me prepare for my trip in some way. After all, the key to being a good writer is practice, right?

Actually, I am glad to be writing tonight. It's been an awfully odd week and it'll be nice to get some of it out. Yesterday was one of the hardest days I've had in a very long time. Unfortunately, I didn't handle it like much of a champ either. Instead, I allowed myself to completely sink in to my "I don't feel happy...somebody please love me..." mode. And while that's not the end of the world, it's actually an exhausting feeling and it doesn't go very far towards figuring out what's actually bothering me. However, thanks to some quiet time and (no surprise here) a few very kind and patient friends, I've been able to figure out what was causing me such heartache. The thing is I've been acutely more lonely and more self conscious lately. And I know that's something that everyone goes through from time to time, but I'm glad to say that overall these are unusual feelings for me. So the surface issue was just that I was having a hard time dealing with feelings I'm not really accustomed to.

But there's another level to the problem too. I think that I've been feeling lonely because I'm so aware of all the wonderful relationships I'm about to leave behind when I move and I'm self conscious because I feel terribly guilty for doing so. So the upside of the issue is that I was feeling bad because I know how lucky and happy I am. More importantly, now that my feelings aren't just some foggy gray haze, I can start to think through them. And once I can think through something, I know every thing's going to be just fine. So long as there is thinking to go with whatever it is that I'm feeling, I'm generally in pretty good shape. It's when I go on a long feeling binge that I'm in trouble.

But enough of that, I'm pretty sure that none of you are all that interested in how I managed to work through my bad day. In all fairness, I did try to think of something more substantial to write to you about, but I really haven't stumbled across any gems lately. My friend suggested that I write about how wonderful and sexy I think he is, but I'm not sure how much space that would take. And I think I'm probably much more interesting anyway. No? Really? Not even a little bit? Alright, I guess I'll call it a night then.

Until I have something super exciting... Read more on "Let's all pretend like this is real work"!

Survery Test

Read more on "Survery Test"!

"I love you, Beta" (or why kinship terms are the magic beans of life's beanstalk)

So I've been promising (or threatening, depending on where you're standing) for sometime to write about my deep love of kinship terms. I'm thankful I postponed, as the last few days have given me more time to reflect and add to my thoughts on this. I'd be curious to hear what other's have to say on this topic, so please feel free to add your two sense. :)

I'd been thinking about my ideas on kinship terms for several days when my phone rang and to my surprise, my dad was on the other end. My dad and I are much more successful at communicating in person, so phone calls are pretty rare, but he told me that he was with someone who wanted to say hello. After a moment's pause, a voice came on the phone, "Hello beta (daughter in Hindi)". I felt my face explode in to a smile as I joyfully responded "Auntie!" Anyone who knows me in the "real world" will know, Auntie is not really my aunt. Well, not in the sense that she is a sibling or sibling in law of either of my parents. She, like many of the people I call family, was once a stranger whom I'd met through someone else I know, usually because there was some idea that they could help prepare me for life in Nepal. But over time, something magical has happened to many of these relationships. The ensuing phone conversation with Auntie is testament to this magic. It went a little something like this:

Auntie:"Beta, I am so proud of you for Fulbright. This is such a good thing."

Me: "Thank you Auntie, I'm excited too. But I've been so busy getting ready. I'm sorry I haven't come to see you. And I was worried that you would be busy too, so I didn't want to bother you."

Auntie: "We always make time for our daughters. Come for dinner and eat with your uncle and I. Come soon."

Me: "Of course Auntie. I will come very soon."

And this is the best part, partly because I could tell from her voice it had slipped out, probably a habit from years of saying the same thing to her natural born daughter, but partly because I knew she meant it all the same.

Auntie: "I love you, beta."

Me: "I love you too Auntie. Tell uncle I said hello."

If you're observant, the above conversation reveals a very complex relationship. Auntie and I have no generally recognized kin connections. I refer to her by a term that indicates that she is a sibling of one of my parents, but she refers to me as one of her own offspring. Even more interestingly, Auntie and I have only shared a handful of afternoons together. But the way we feel about each other and the rules that govern how we interact are very real. This is the magic of kinship terms.

When Auntie and I first met, she was kind and welcoming to me, but I felt a formality in the way she treated me. After all, I was the daughter of her boss, and I had come to observe, in the role of an interested student, a Hindu ritual in her home. She invited me to come again, but even in our second meeting I was not completely at ease. Fortunately, I had some ideas of what was expected of a young lady in Indian culture and I knew that I was well received by both Auntie and her husband. But it wasn't until my third visit, when I was going to be attending a traditional Hindu wedding with Auntie and Uncle that our relationship became what it now is. Auntie was picking out one of her daughter's old lungi (an Indian dress) for me to wear to the wedding. I innocently (though not really) asked her what I should call her at the wedding in front of her friends. After awhile, we decide on Auntie and ever after, we've been family. Of course, I'm not entirely unaware of fostering these relationships. I'm always careful to behave appropriately to the roles we've decided on. But I still believe that these words we are using to describe each other have a huge impact on the way our relationships develop. When I went to fetch Uncle's tea, it could have been interpreted as a polite gesture, but instead, it was proof that I was a good daughter. I'm still not certain if these terms are powerful only when the expectations they convey are met, or if the terms themselves are just so emotionally loaded, it's difficult for us to disjoin the emotion from the relationship the words typically describe. I am certain however that calling someone by a kinship term is a surefire way to develop a powerful and lasting bond with virtually anyone. If you need more evidence of this, just look at the ritual friendship/brotherhoods (meetini in nepali) relationships. (I could write more on this point, but I won't simply because I've more rambling to do.)In any case, it seems to me that kinship terms and not actual kinship is what creates families.

But as much as I truly love all the people I call family, I can't help but be reminded that some of this status is fictional. Usually, these reminders come from outsiders who comment with curiosity on my "family" photos or who know my natal family and are certain my mother didn't have several previously unknown daughters. I've just finished re- re- reading Love and Honor in the Himalayas, and the author, Ernestine, talks about how unkindly a stranger in Nepal once reminded her that "...it was wrong, and I [Ernestine} was wrong, and that what I was engaging in was a masquerade to which I had no right. I was not going to stay there. I was not going to marry there. I was not going to suffer there."(McHugh, 117) Ernestine's reaction to this was one of dismay, but I feel differently. I personally feel that the use of kinship terms and the subsequent creation of relationships allows me to open myself up to people in ways that would otherwise be socially unacceptable, but also emotionally unwise. My "fictional" kin relationships have merely provided me the safety net needed to get to know people that I would love no matter how I came to know them. I fully recognize that I am a guest in the lives of those that call me little sister, daughter or niece, but my temporary status does not make my position in anyone's lives any less genuine.

There's also another important view point to consider here. As I prepare to leave for my ten or more months in Nepal, I've had to do a lot of thinking about the life I will leave behind. I've been blessed by a life more full of love than anyone could ever hope to have and I'm painfully aware of all the people whose lives will go on without me very very soon. And it makes me realize, we are all guests in the lives of those around us.

Case in point, I regularly read Janice's blog (check it out here: http://www.jkosmandu.blogspot.com/) and her most recent post stands in stark contrast to her others. Janice's post are generally filled with pictures and stories that while seemingly exotic to those of us living in the states, are clearly Janice's everyday existence. Ironically, the pictures in her last post seem the most exotic of all, so much so that I checked to make sure I was at the right page when they opened. The pictures show two teenage girls in their prom dresses and Janice tells us about her two nieces preparing for prom and graduation here in the states, without her. While genetics and a greater cultural law describe these two girls as her "real" family, I wonder whether anyone could really argue that these relationships, which have been put on hold while Janice completes her work on the other side of the world, play a more significant role in Janice's life than the friends and "family" she is currently sharing every moment of her life with. Even when she returns, are those relationships really any more lasting or permanent that the ones she'll have left in Nepal? In my opinion the answer is clearly no. While our past and our future help to shape and influence who we are, identity is very much created and understood in the moment. Read more on ""I love you, Beta" (or why kinship terms are the magic beans of life's beanstalk)"!

Responsiblity? Where did that come from?

Wow! So last week sometime, I had a mini epiphany. For a long time, having large projects would fill me with so much anxiety, that I would freeze and not accomplish much of anything. And while I could sometimes push through it, I never felt like I did as much as I could/should do, and I was never happy with how projects ended. Needless to say with my Nepal trip coming up, there was a lot of things beginning to pile up and I was starting to doubt my ability to pull this off, and that's where the epiphany came in. The funny thing is, it really came as a small piece of advice from a friend. I asked him what he did to accomplish big projects and he said that instead of making lists he just picked off the small things one at a time to get them out of the way and then when the little stuff was gone he could focus on the big stuff.

So here's my epiphany:
Lists cause me to freak out.



It's not the work that needs to be done. It's not that I can't handle a whole bunch of things. There's just something about long lists that scare me senseless. So I stopped looking at the lists and just tackled whichever of the tasks I felt most like doing at the time and Voila! I am productive, responsible, and actually looking forward to my trip!!!! And I haven't gotten rid of the list all together. It's still sitting in my notebook, but I only look at it every couple of days. I know what needs to be done and I'm perfectly capable of completing it. Hooray for me!

Alright, I know that wasn't as exciting for the rest of you as it was for me, but it is good news for all of you. Wanna know why? Because now taking care of my blog isn't on one of my lists, so I enjoy it even more. Hooray for me again!

Ok, ok, this is general ranting getting to the extreme. I promise to write something more meaningful soon. Read more on "Responsiblity? Where did that come from?"!