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catherineldfHere is a thing that I have been thinking about for a long, long time.I live in a patriarchal culture, one that only gives a little bit here and there, then takes back what it has given and then takes more. I survive in a patriarchal culture as white and cis and university educated, but also as queer and middle-aged. My perceived cultural worth as a woman, as a creator, drops over time as I age. And I resent the hell out of that.
Back in the misty dawn of time, when I was at college, I took my first women's studies class and I learned about a woman named Agnes Smedley, who was a journalist in China during the Chinese Civil War and a Communist and a very interesting person. I don't think that she would necessarily have called herself a "feminist," were she alive today, but her book, Daughter of Earth, was what got me thinking about being a woman. And actually, the part that implies that this was my first exposure to feminism isn't completely true: I had an amazing feminist teacher in high school, one who lent me her copy of Ellen Moer's brilliant Literary Women. And before that, and at the same time as that and after that, there were all the joys and sorrows of growing up female in this culture, this patriarchal culture of ours. But these works, these were the ones that slowly enabled me to understand that we learn to devalue certain voices, certain others, certain creators. And ourselves.
That devaluing takes many forms. Here are some of the things we learn to do to devalue ourselves. We begin with others. We always begin with Others. We may not read books or stories or watch movies or plays or view art by other women, LGBT or Q people, people of color, anyone different from ourselves. Or we may read those stories or see that art once in a blue moon but we do not celebrate those works, those voices. We do not recommend that others read them or experience them. We do not value the work of other women, creative or otherwise. We do not review, sell, buy or collect it. We do not support female candidates for office or promotion, we may trash them behind their backs or we may encourage others to do so. We may deny rape, abuse, harassment, pay inequities, lack of opportunities, lack of accessibility, and the myriad evils that happen to other women while we deny that they happen to us. That we are Other Women. That if we do not value ourselves and each other, no one else is going to, either.
As a product of my culture, I have been guilty of many of these and of sins that I haven't listed above or even remembered. I will be guilty again, despite my best intentions. Despite having dedicated decades to trying to unlearn the things I despise that live in my head. So there are no easy solutions, no quick fixes, at least not for me. Instead, there is lifelong learning, learning to appreciate other voices, other perspectives. Learning to be conscious of letting those voices disappear, of neglecting to vocally appreciate the work and art that is not promoted, is not easy, is neglected and ignored.
And part of that learning is trying. Making mistakes and trying again. It's a deeply worthwhile exercise and one that I hope to continue for decades to come. What I ask of myself is that I keep pushing back against the boundaries and constrictions as I identify them, push back against the poisonous little voices or insecurity and jealousy and learned contempt. That once I recognize what I'm doing and decide that I don't like, I try harder to do better. That I learn from criticism and learn to give it better. We learn to value certain things over others, from childhood on. Replacing those lessons with new ones is hard. but I have to think it's worthwhile. I have to believe that it doesn't end in silenced voices and missing art, missing words. Mine and others.
Back in the misty dawn of time, when I was at college, I took my first women's studies class and I learned about a woman named Agnes Smedley, who was a journalist in China during the Chinese Civil War and a Communist and a very interesting person. I don't think that she would necessarily have called herself a "feminist," were she alive today, but her book, Daughter of Earth, was what got me thinking about being a woman. And actually, the part that implies that this was my first exposure to feminism isn't completely true: I had an amazing feminist teacher in high school, one who lent me her copy of Ellen Moer's brilliant Literary Women. And before that, and at the same time as that and after that, there were all the joys and sorrows of growing up female in this culture, this patriarchal culture of ours. But these works, these were the ones that slowly enabled me to understand that we learn to devalue certain voices, certain others, certain creators. And ourselves.
That devaluing takes many forms. Here are some of the things we learn to do to devalue ourselves. We begin with others. We always begin with Others. We may not read books or stories or watch movies or plays or view art by other women, LGBT or Q people, people of color, anyone different from ourselves. Or we may read those stories or see that art once in a blue moon but we do not celebrate those works, those voices. We do not recommend that others read them or experience them. We do not value the work of other women, creative or otherwise. We do not review, sell, buy or collect it. We do not support female candidates for office or promotion, we may trash them behind their backs or we may encourage others to do so. We may deny rape, abuse, harassment, pay inequities, lack of opportunities, lack of accessibility, and the myriad evils that happen to other women while we deny that they happen to us. That we are Other Women. That if we do not value ourselves and each other, no one else is going to, either.
As a product of my culture, I have been guilty of many of these and of sins that I haven't listed above or even remembered. I will be guilty again, despite my best intentions. Despite having dedicated decades to trying to unlearn the things I despise that live in my head. So there are no easy solutions, no quick fixes, at least not for me. Instead, there is lifelong learning, learning to appreciate other voices, other perspectives. Learning to be conscious of letting those voices disappear, of neglecting to vocally appreciate the work and art that is not promoted, is not easy, is neglected and ignored.
And part of that learning is trying. Making mistakes and trying again. It's a deeply worthwhile exercise and one that I hope to continue for decades to come. What I ask of myself is that I keep pushing back against the boundaries and constrictions as I identify them, push back against the poisonous little voices or insecurity and jealousy and learned contempt. That once I recognize what I'm doing and decide that I don't like, I try harder to do better. That I learn from criticism and learn to give it better. We learn to value certain things over others, from childhood on. Replacing those lessons with new ones is hard. but I have to think it's worthwhile. I have to believe that it doesn't end in silenced voices and missing art, missing words. Mine and others.