8 posts tagged “gender”

I woke in the dark hours of morning from a dream that feels symbolically indicative of the tectonic shifts I'm experiencing in life/self/other/milieu of late.

In the dream, I (as I am now) was staying at my parents house with my older and younger brothers.  I remember a distinct sense of saying to myself in the dream "this is just like childhood for us to be staying here like this."  We were in our old rooms, which were only somewhat changed from childhood.  I presume we were staying for a holiday visit.

There I was, staying in my old room.  My mother kept coming in to put away laundry (she used to do this when I was a child, after I went to bed. It always woke me up), and so I attempted to stop this by locking the door.  Well, the door lock did no good, because anyone with a thumbnail could turn the lock from the outside. I moved my old nightstand in front of the door, thinking that would do the trick.  But no, my mother and father both came in, and were dancing together in the middle of my now much larger bedroom (where there could not possibly be room for dancing. still with the same icky yellow shag carpet), and laughing.  I was like "Mom, Dad, I'm trying to sleep here!  Could you give me some privacy?"  But no, my mother laughed and laughed and laughed and kept dancing (it was some combination of swing and salsa dancing).  She told me that my father was not my father actually, that I had been fathered by someone else who was long gone.  My father, who's usually a quiet man who does not dance, just kept dancing, looking happy and graceful in ways I've never seen him. My mother was dancing all around, my father always at the center.

I don't remember more from there on.  Of late I've been investigating my experiences of having a gender or being a gender, and I'm curious about the symbolic interaction of my dream with that work.

Into the comfortable and familiar is introduced a destabilizing exuberant feminine dancing with a stabilizing graceful masculine, but the masculine symbol has a sort of emptiness in its non-related-ness. Where I want to and expect to feel safe and secure, these energies burst in. When the feminine is alone, she's merely on maintenance.  When paired with the masculine, she is dynamic and powerful, unconventional.

Gender: the terms which, in the common parlance, refer to one or both of the following

• biological sex: female, male, or the third sex (which has its own varieties)
• behaviors which distinguish one's membership in either of the two primary sexes, or indicate that one's behavior is rather more like the other sex (i.e. feminine and masculine).  Note that there is no room for a third category of behaviors here (and that itself would make a fascinating master's thesis)
  

Generally speaking, "women", who have the litany of primary and secondary sex characteristics associated with being "female", are expected to behave in manners which are commonly described as "feminine".  Similarly, "men" who have the other set of primary and secondary sex characteristics are associated with being "male" are expected to comport themselves in a "masculine" manner.  One might (and often will) go so far as to say that women are supposed to be feminine and men are supposed to be masculine.

I'm using the "scare quotes" in the above paragraph to call these words to attention in a manner which questions the validity of these categories.  I'm also intentionally listing feminine/female/woman first, since this is contrary to the more common ordering of words I am accustomed to seeing.

In the Abhidharma texts I've read (sourced in Pali), the faculites (indriya) of gender are an indistinguishable blend of sex and behaviors.  One of the commentators of the text (Buddhagosa, I believe) indicates that the biological sexes are capable of conducting themselves in a way reflective of the masculine indriya or the feminine indriya.

In actual modern life, as we experience it, we have sufficient concepts to allow women to have masculine behaviors (like running for President) and men to have feminine behaviors (like keeping house). (Okay, running for President is actually gender neutral, but it's considered to be a thing that men do and only men will succeed at, and therefore has masculine attributions.)  However, that line-crossing is considered in many cases to be sufficient grounds to openly question that person's health, sanity, sexuality and worth.  For example, at Naropa I've met so many very gentle men who are attentive listeners with creative skills and kind personalities.  These men are easily recognized as being rather "feminine", but in most cases, they are heterosexual.  However, out there in the "normal world", and in their youths, these men are picked on for not fitting into the masculine stereotype.

Gender is presupposed to have a relatively stable relationship to sex and sexuality. For example, heterosexual women, who are feminine in their conduct, like only masculine men. And masculine men like feminine women.  But what about me?  I'm a rather masculine/feminine woman, and I like women who are similarly a blend of gender traits, and occasionally like men who tend more toward the feminine. And sometimes I like extremely feminine women. And sometimes I like extremely masculine women.  Sometimes I like extremely masculine transmen who make me feel (by contrast) to be feminine, girlish.

You see?  I don't fit this gender/sex/sexuality mapping. And neither do most of my friends, particularly the transgendered folk.

When I met with the Rinpoche and asked him about the indriyas of gender, he boiled it down to a difference of hormones.  That makes the most sense to me as an empirical category for gender, but not for the rest of it.  But what about the transman who's taking testosterone shots every week?  Or the post-menopausal woman in HRT?  Are they artificially increasing their indriya of gender?  So, as a very loose and fuzzy category, hormones as the basis for indriyas work, but it's not absolute.

Gender is more about behavior than sex. According to Judith Butler (and many theorists after her agree), gender is performatively constituted by the very acts which are said to be its results.  Instead of "feminine" following from "woman", feminine is a category in which its components are completely independent of the sex of the person. 

The difficulty, I find, in relating to the concepts of indriyas of gender as relating to hormones is that I can't personally pin down and identify within my experience my testosterone, progesterone, estrodial and other hormones.  I can experience things like:

• sexual attraction (which can be pared down to things like: increased blood circulation in specific locations of my body, increased respiration rate, intensity of concentration on another person, etc.)
• gentle, open-hearted-ness (which can be pared down into experiences like: really feeling the weight and throb of my heart in a way that seems to somehow welcome and encompass the other person)
• aggression (which can be pared down into experiences that are somewhat like sexual attraction in description, but not the same experience, with a more spinning/weaving/strategizing quality of mind)
• hunger (a loosely electric empty feeling in the region of my stomach

And so, for my gender and abhidharma paper, I'm going to look at experiences which are categorized as masculine or feminine, and look at my mind when relating to particular concepts of things that fit in that category. What I suspect I will find is the many ways I have internalized the androcentric leanings of my home culture, my internalized misogyny, and generally speaking, fear of the vast openness and possibility which the feminine represents.

Which then takes the paper to a whole other level: there are aspects of the Buddhist teaching which relate to the masculine and feminine categories as "wisdom energies" (which we all possess both, regardless of our sex). The feminine represents a category loosely associated with women, and the masculine loosely associated with men, but in neither case especially valorized (although the position of men throughout history in Buddhism has always been at the seat of institutional power, and so I wonder to what extent the symbolic systems support that).

Thursday night: one-on-one meeting with the Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche to talk about gender in the Abhidharma.  I was also having a migraine with aura at the time, which made the whole meet-with-a-renowned-scholar-and-spiritual-teacher thing more interesting than it already was.  I tried, in my somewhat blurry state, to get to the heart of the basic scholastic Buddhist perspective on what gender is, how it is constituted, and whether it is genuinely relevant.  Also, he's a rather sweet man.  I see why his students are so fond of him.

Friday: Migraine continues.  I make it thru the work day, but have to cancel happy hour plans with a friend.  I go home, nap, eat dinner, relax with my cat and read for class.  Much much later, I feel sufficiently better, and go to my dear friend Michelle's belated Halloween and Birthday party, where a new crowd of Naropa young'ns are gathered.  I feel my age, and miss my many friends who have graduated and moved on.  I'm glad Michelle is sticking around to continue being a Mother to the community.

Saturday:  Sleeping in, more study and intensive work on a term paper.  Late that night: Dia de los Muertos gathering and Orisha ceremony with Lou and many dear friends and newly met folk from of the local Yoruba community.  We spent time with the shrine late into the night, telling stories of passed-on family and friends.

Sunday:  Breakfast with Em, the Poet and her sweet beau.  Later: more term paper, study for class, reading.  Later still: surrealist birthday party for Monica.

Sometimes, my capacity for mindfulness is near to nil.  Of late, I've been so distracted/distractable, paying no attention to the world or my body moving through it, caught up in thought.

Exhibit A: a large (approx 3 inch by 6 inch) bruise on the inside of my right calf, from where I smacked the shit outta my leg when dismounting from a bicycle.  I borrowed one of the staff bikes to go to a coffee shop last Friday to meet my senior project classmate, Terri.  The bicycle has a fixed-position metal basket on the rear, kind of like a pannier.  I dragged my leg against it quite forcefully, which stung like hell.  It's not a deep bruise, but it's pretty nasty looking.  I imagine it would be worse if I wasn't supporting my iron levels with supplements, red meat and green vegetables.

Exhibit B: a dime-sized scrape on my left knee, general swelling in the area, and a feeling that I'll need my patella  and knee joint adjusted next week. A 1/2 cm square scrape on the heel of my right hand, general swelling in the area, and a sore wrist. The wrist might be sprained. Both result from me tripping on a curb and taking an undignified spill on the concrete. Also, it ripped the knee of my favorite jeans. I'm undecided as to whether that's an enhancement or something I want to fix.

On the upside, I'm taking a more cavalier attitude to my injuries, due to a sense of shifting gender, vis-a-vis my Abhidharma term paper project.  In Abhidharma, gender is one of the Indriyas: a faculty or power -- "an aspect of our experience where there is some kind of potency which makes it possible for us to have a wholesome experience of the world. (JSB)  Everything that I'm reading in actual Abhidharma literature is very conventionally gendered, and doesn't seem to speak (directly) of the non-inherent existence of these qualities, other than in the vagueness of karma.  It seems that, in the literature, whether Tibetan or Theravadin, that gender and sex are seen as deeply linked.  In some texts, such as Buddhaghosa (quoted in secondary sources), the mixing of genders or mixing of bodies and the non-normative sexualities (which Buddhaghosa gets all confused, which makes it worse) is generally seen as bad -- and such people are excluded from the monastic sangha.  I'm not a big fan of the conventionality of this stuff so far -- it's so embedded in its cultural context that the liberating heart of Buddhism is hidden in these areas.

Anyway, that was a ramble.  I'm taking a more cavalier attitude about my injuries because I'm looking a lot more deeply into my experience for the subtle signifiers of gender or gendered projection and so on.  In that, I do sometimes wonder: if I were a boy or a man, how would my opinion/reaction/experience differ?  But I am also careful to not make the "if-I-were-a-horse mistake" -- this is about understanding my experience/my mind, not trying to discover universal principles of gender.

In that, I'm somewhat relishing the rough-and-tumble aspect of my distracted clumsiness.  It makes me feel like a bit of a rogue.   A tough boi.

But again, my personal understanding of and experience of gender is unconventional -- I don't do a lot of gendering of my experience outside of relationship.  Usually, the strongest gendering is around sexuality and the gender/sex of those I want to dance with.  There's a lighter gendering with the sex/gender I'm not so interested in.  But it's not binary -- I like feminine and masculine women, and I like feminine and masculine men, and the types I'm attracted to physically/mentally/emotionally are more blend than either end.  And also, what I term in those "feminine" and "masculine" categories are not tied to sex. And what I avoid or am put off by, actually, tends to be the extremes.

This Abhidharma of gender is a matrix of convoluted relationships, ever-in-motion.

I had a wildly meandering and multi-hued dream.  Therein were familiar landscapes of central coastal California redwood forests, deciduous forests of my Indiana hillcountry youth, and a strange setting mixed of the two, to which I've returned in dreams more than once--the forests of my nighttime mind.

In one segment, I was hanging out with Ani Difranco and her beau and her bass player.  I had stumbled across her in a little ramshackle Boulder Creek style cabin in the middle of the woods, where I was wandering lost.  I saw into a window and recognized her, and then went on my way, not wanting to intrude.  She came out and called to me, not like an old friend, but a vague acquaintance whose company is sought after. After much stumbling humility, I talked about IndoTibetan Buddhism with the aforementioned rockstar.  I tripped over my tongue much, feeling inadequate to speak, but eventually talked about the element of emptiness, silence, and the anticipatory gap within Difranco's music, as well as the general principles of awakening as might be found in the lyrics in her more recent work, and how I thought she was in some way serving as a bodhisattva and I looked forward to how being a mother would further shape the increasing wakefulness of her perspective and gift.

Later, I went with friends to her concert...before which there was excess concern as to what I should wear.  Pink underwear was involved in some way, seeming as intentionally queer in my dream as it is in my waking life.

In another segment of the dream was something like a replay of Tuesday night's First Turning class, where we congregated as a group to discuss logistics before meeting with Rinpoche for the main teaching of the evening (exegesis on the Four Noble Truths).  But as it turned out, it wasn't exactly Rinpoche, but instead a western academic who was there to present a lecture and discussion on gender.  Students in the classroom wanted to talk on the DSM-IV classification of gender disorders (referring to it by the number 23, which isn't the number, but we all knew what it meant in the dream), but the professor wasn't a psychologist, but rather a postmodernist Buddhist who was there to talk about what I was going to write my paper about: gender and the Abhidharma.

1. Before I analyze the behavior of feminine women, perhaps I should analyze the fact that my rejection of feminine beauty practices confirms feelings about my gender identity which I experienced long before I encountered feminism at university.  And before I say that feminine practices are disempowering, I should acknowledge the power which my own performance brings me and the fact that I love that power.
2. Before I berate feminine heterosexual women for using their gender performance to attract men, I should look at how my own gender performance is linked to desire and sexuality.
3. Before I accuse heterosexual women of being constrained by gender norms, I should look at the way my own gender performance engages with feminist and lesbian gender norms and ideals.
4. Before I assume that taking part in feminine beauty practices oppresses other women, I should stop and think about how my (supposedly) feminist attitudes oppress other women.

These 4 reminders aren't of my authoring--I found them in another blog on October 22, 2006.  I liked 'em so much that I wrote them down in the pocket journal I carry with me everywhere, and titled them as this blogpost.

That source blog (desperatekingdoms.blogspot.com) has apparently disappeared since then.  I'm glad I wrote it down.

Yesterday, I spent something like six hours shopping for a shirt that goes with my suit, shoes, a belt and a bag that match well enough, and a bra (that fits, unlike all of my other bras that are sized for 15 pounds ago).  I managed to get the shirt (which is damn near perfect) and the shoes, but as yet no belt nor bag.  I'm hoping I can find a bag suitable enough that I'll want to use it again.  I have a great leather shoulder bag in the absolutely wrong color.  I suppose I could get away with it, since it's a kind of buttercream color that will compliment my shirt.

Special thanks to She-who-is-in-need-of-a-less-common-name-as-a-nickname for shopping with me.  I got unsufferably cranky after the third or fourth hour, and she was a great help the whole time. 

This whole girly thing totally freaks me out. I put on heels yesterday for the first time EVER and walked around and experienced the kind of existential dread that I associate with my essential discomfort with the feminine gender I've been assigned but do not feel is my home.  Seriously, I felt like I was going to throw up.  But, it's okay.  It was a moment that gives me a kind of empathy for folks who are way more gender queer than me.  And so I'm going to try to play with it, but the literal feeling of groundlessness in heels is, frankly, fucking scary.

On Thursday, I'm going to the salon, where, aside from having my hair cut and colored again, I'll get a make-up consultation so I can get the right eye and lip colors to go with my shirt and suit. 

Fashion is pain.  But damn, I'm going to look hot hot hot.

Speaking of hot hot hot, I have a crush, I have a crush, I have a crush.  More on that later, when I feel like being more self-disclosing, and perhaps quoting my dathun journal.  But in the meantime, huzzah!  It's reciprocal!  I'm totally doing a booty-shaking happy dance over this.  When I'm not awkward and nervous. 

And in other news, my therapist is totally going to laugh at me.  Totally.

Last week, after finishing the work on my thesis on Wednesday, I went to see a nifty apartment in one of the L-towns.  I then went to Kinkos to have my thesis printed and bound.  I think the timing was right, because it's like the perfect place -- lots of space, a view, kind neighbors, quiet.  And it's all inclusive for a reasonable price.  I'll be moving June 1-whenever I'm done.  Which is not far away at all.  I can pack in three weeks, right?  I'll have to wrangle up some friends to help with the heavy moving on June 2 or thereabouts.

I'm looking forward to the summer time of free time and creativity. And alone time, which I've not really had since...1999? 

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My piece for the 2007 Blogging Against Sexism Day

(caveat: this is my reading of the conversation/situation, which is therefore written with a dose of snark, to be taken salted as you please.  mea culpas to my classmate for how I am likely to misrepresent him here.)

In my Contemplative Psych II: Compassionate Outreach class, a white male classmate of mine pointed out that it's very difficult for men to hear about the effects of oppression without feeling guilty and defensive about it.   He said then tend to shut down at any abrasiveness, and defend their turf. As a way to work with this, he suggested a more conciliatory, gentle route of invitation (rather than confrontation) for women, people of color and queers to approach white men in order to ask for said white men to help the marginalized others attain their rights.  He said it helped him in particular for the other to say something that recognized his contributions to such efforts, as well as broadly acknowledged the many possible roles of white men in this greater cause. In regard to me in particular, he said it would reassure him that my statements did not come from man-hating motivations.

What. Fucking. Ever.

I'd been speaking of my experience of feeling unsafe on CU campus when walking past groups of rowdy white men ages 18-24.  Even in broad daylight, in an area where there were many others.    Likewise, in downtown Boulder, or really anywhere, anywhere, that I should encounter a group of young white men, but particularly when they are rowdy and speaking loudly of drunken exploits.  I brace myself to receive sexist or homophobic comment, harassment, and possibly violence.  Even when the chances of incident are statistically insignificant, I brace myself for the worst.  My body has not yet unlearned the habit.  It's a habit to protect and defend myself.

Fortunately, our brilliant instructor pointed out that what my male classmate described is not an all-things-being-equal situation--there is a power imbalance, and it is the task of the person who holds the upper hand to acknowledge the imbalance and redress it.  It is not for the marginalized other to coddle and hand-hold the oppressor through his realization and hopefully subsequent liberation and (we can dream) commitment to working against all forms of oppression, using the power the system grants him for the sake of others..

My thought, which I voiced:  "yeah, I can ask you to acknowledge my rights, or I can say fuck you, you cannot keep me from my rights." 

I also pointed out that there are multiple forms of resistance, all of them are applicable, although some may be more effective than others.  I will not patiently wait for you to give me my rights, I will fight for my rights and I will snatch all from the grasp which attempts to withhold the fullness of my human life from me.

That said, here is my conciliatory gesture, for the guys, boys, men, and other fellows who have greater privilege than me, due to their gender.

I know that men can do this work. I know that white men in America can come to see and recognize sexism, racism, classism, homophobia, ageism, ableism, etc.  I've met so, so many men over the years whose whole lives, or just a portion, are devoted to this work.  They are teachers, they are students, they are priests and monks, they are computer programmers and systems engineers.  They are coffee, beer and booze slingers.  They are greasemonkeys and lawyers and accountants.  They are my father, my brothers, my cousins, my friends, as well as men with whom I am barely acquainted or have only heard or read of.  There are men out there working to educate against and end oppression.  I trust that.  I trust them. 

But I don't yet trust you.

Your sincere intentions to do good are not enough. 

When I'm walking down a residential block in Boulder, and cross from one side of the street to the other as two black men come walking the other way, does it matter a whit that my intent was to follow the route I'd already planned, which included crossing the street at just that coincidental moment?  Does it matter that I'm trying to work with and end my own racism?  Does it matter that I'm more scared of white men than black men?  Does it matter that I have black friends?  No.  What matters is that those two men saw me cross the street, and in all likelihood experienced something like "yet another white woman is avoiding me out of fear of the color of my skin."  What matters is that because of the color of my skin, my actions, regardless of my intent, are more visible in this world and may have and often do have subtle and overt negative impact upon others who do not share this whiter shade of pale.

Here's a scenario for the college-aged white man: you're at a party with a bunch of your friends and a whole lot of other people.  One or more of your friends is making suggestive and possibly lewd remarks and advances at a college-aged woman. She rebuffs his approach.  Once turned down, he hurls an epithet at her retreating back, "Fucking dyke!"  What do you do to be an ally to women?

You don't go apologize to the girl on your friend's behalf.  That's likely to be read by her as loaded with hidden intent on your part to look like "the good guy."    No, what you do is upbraid your friend, vocally and audibly in the earshot of many others.  Call him out on his bad behavior, call him an asshole, and indicate that he will never, ever, in a million years, possibly woo any women by being such an insensitive fucking prick, and he might as well stumble back to his dorm to play World of Warcraft, which is all he's good for.  (Or, fill in your style of reproach on the scale from reprimand to scathing bitch-out here, as appropriate.)

Basically, your responsibility as a white man who's trying to be a help in this world is to: call out your friends, acquaintances, and even strangers on their sexist bullshit.  Don't tolerate it under any circumstance.  As a man, you have the socially-supported power to stand up, speak out, be listened to and heard.  Just do it, dude.  Add to that  upbraiding effort a calling-out on racist bullshit, homophobic bullshit, and all other forms of othering bullshit, and you've got a start.  Just a start.

A lot of young men I've encountered at Naropa are unable to grasp that they have power.  Some complain that women have more power because women are free to be emotionally expressive.  That's not power, that's freedom to emote.  Emoting, as you might note, is generally frowned upon in American society.  I'm capable of crying, yes, but it's still seen as: a weakness, a woman's thing, women are so emotional, women are so irrational, emotional responses aren't as valid as rational responses, etc.  I'm free to do something that is neatly contained by the discourses of sexism in this culture.  Whatever my tears may mean to me personally or to the kind soul who holds me and receives them, those tears are stamped with a socially-imposed meaning.

To say that tears are a gift is a transgressive reinscription.  Men and women both can do this--it not particular to gender, although the tears of men are usually more striking due to their relative rarity.  I may cry without shame, and with that I express power, but it is a power I enact, rather than a power granted to me by society.  I've seen men cry from a bottomless sorrow.  Denied their right to fully experience and express emotion, most men keep so much pain bottled up.  Imagine if, for just a moment, you could lay that burden down and actually cry for each pain you've had to swallow.  Each time your gentleness has been forcibly toughened, by taunting or beating or other method.

The power granted by society is a tool: use it wisely.  The powers and freedoms society denies you are yours to claim.  Such power is vast and endless, beyond the scope of society's containment.  It is the power to create change. Take up the challenge of being a man outside of how you are defined by other men, or by women, or by anyone.