Country western hair

MELLIE MACKER

Occasionally, if I notice that someone on a baseball blog has written something egregious and erroneous, I won’t call them out on Twitter, but instead send them a courtesy email to protect them from their own shame. More often than not, my emails go unheeded, but twice I've received a kind response from the individual that I’m correcting. And once, I actually ended up having a really nice conversation with a blogger I greatly admire and he gave me some truly fascinating advice:

“Look, I don’t mean to be a downer but if you didn't play college sports and you don’t have Country Western hair, it’s unlikely that you will ever get a job in sports.”

He’s infuriating, but not at all wrong. The saga of female sports commentary is fascinating, and openly very sexist. Today, the most easily recognizable woman in the sports world is Erin Andrews of FOX Sports and formerly of ESPN--who is famous for getting naked once and saying incredibly stupid things even though she is a very intelligent college football analyst. Andrews has Country Western hair and though she did not play college sports, she was a cheerleader for the Florida Gators, which means that she’s hot and stood near football for a sufficient period of time to be recruited by national news networks.

But, in 2009, Andrews was filmed through a peephole in a hotel room without her knowledge and then subsequently posted on the internet. This horrifying invasion of privacy is the defining moment of her career. The harassment that was inflicted upon her as a result is all perfectly recorded for your reading pleasure if you Google “Erin Andrews” because Google loves to autocorrect her name to “Erin Andrews peephole”. Thanks, Google. You know exactly what I meant, I’m clearly not here to research a perfectly professional individual with a spectacular resume and an interesting story – I’m here to violate her privacy.

This is a woman who runs a television show about College Football and hosts men as correspondents, unlike the other 99.9 percent of all other sports programs on television that follow the opposite format. Sure, she says silly things once in a while, but “silly” is a total understatement when you breakdown the nonsense that emerges from the mouths of football analysts. Last weekend, I took a tally of the times that Jim Nantz and Phil Simms of CBS said “speed in space” – a phrase that means exactly zero things – in ten minutes, and the total was 86. That is stupid, borderline insane behavior. And while CBS commentators frequently field scrutiny for their total inanity, they never hear that they are stupid because they are men.

Erin Andrews, on the other hand, was deemed a “dumb blonde” by baseball fans across the nation because she accidentally stuttered to call Justin Verlander – one of the greatest pitchers in the last decade and arguably of all time – “Justin Bieber.” As embarrassing as that is, it was one single mistake that was picked at and scrutinized only because she’s a woman and therefore doesn't know anything about sports.

As for me, I sincerely doubt that I can take the pressure of that environment, but I’m not going to give up on the thing that I would most like to do with my life. So if you’re reading this and you know of a stylist who can make me look like Fara Fawcett’s hair had a baby with Cousin It, let me know. Maybe the Country Western hair isn't so much about the look as it is protecting yourself with a thick layer of hairspray for a helmet.

Gender roles and emotion

HEATHER MAHER

Callous, harsh, and inflexible: While I strive not to display these less than favorable attributes to those I respect, these attributes have on occasion proven to be beneficial. In the male-dominated industries and sports I find myself working within, the ability to withhold emotions, has always propelled me forward.

The societal glorification of men deemed stead-fast and withdrawn from softer emotions negatively impacts male relationships, as well as the way women relate and react to men.

How do the expectations of gender influence the dynamic of relationships? As a child, my brother was sometimes spanked for crying when he lost a basketball game, while I was never punished for crying when I lost a dance competition. What message does that send?

As I matured and developed intimate relationships with men, I sometimes doubted the legitimacy of the feelings they expressed. I hurt men I loved because I could not understand why they expressed anger as tears instead of throwing a punch. Society taught me that men were supposed to be tough. Accepting anything else was foreign. I had to unlearn what was programmed.

Even within platonic same-gender friendships, we are capable of restricting expressions of feelings because of the expectations within gender roles. In the stereotypical girl culture I have experienced, it is common to question another woman’s lack of outward emotional response involving a death or break up. Women are expected to be tearful in sad situations and show no anger. Failure to live up to this stereotype deems you less of a woman. Within male friendships, being tender and loving toward another male as an expression of camaraderie is often rejected and labeled as weak.

But denying each other full emotional experiences weakens our relationships. Humans are dynamic, and embracing all that a person feels is crucial to our development.

Breaking down restrictions on emotions is hard. Personal situations and upbringings aside, being aware of how gender roles have influenced expression is one step forward. For men, it is important to realize that a woman expressing anger and passion is as valid as her expressions of sadness or happiness. Keeping in mind that she has likely been taught to not express anger and if she does, it is wrong.

As a fiery woman, my male counterparts often dismiss my intense expression involving issues I care about. That being said, failure to acknowledge that softer emotions in men are not indicators of weakness is just as detrimental. These actions perpetuate gender-based emotional restriction.

Unwritten women

CHRISTIAN MANDEVILLE

In my free time, I like to write on a number of Internet forums and archives. None of my pseudonym-fronted stories or essays has become noteworthy, but these excursions have brought me repeatedly into the community. And in each microcosm of our various hiding holes on the web, there always seems to be a section of authors who feel comfortable stating, "I just can't write female characters.”

Why is this such a phenomenon? There are always novice authors who simply have difficulty creating any characters, male or female (not to mention other identities).

These guys are still writing directly from themselves (as I've yet to encounter a woman who "just cant" write one gender) and will hopefully grow beyond the restriction.

The true problem, as I've seen it, is that male authors create complex and fascinating male characters, yet women seem strangely absent. Maybe they're far from the storyline, or are unseen pillars, holding up the main characters (all male) as they go about their adventures. This is exemplified in The Lord of the Rings series, where women make so few appearances that I can only remember four women with dialog throughout the course of the series.

In Tolkien's case, it seems he was restricted by gender-roles at the time, and I would allow a bit of leeway for that. In the forums where I write, such as “Archive of our Own,” or the assorted Forumotion domains, however, I've seen present day authors adopt the same style of women – being in the universe, but having about as much effect upon it as a houseplant.

One such has a veritable series, equivalently seven chapters in length last checked, and the author was publicly asked why none of his five main characters were women.

"Because I don't feel that this story needs any romance element," he responded.

No commentary on altering the plot occurred, no mention of altering the relationships – this author simply couldn't conceive of having a woman in the foreground unless she was a conduit to a love-interest plot.

Others emphatically state that women are irrational, or so emotional that they don’t understand them. As one such author typed emphatically; "It's not that I don't want [female characters] in my work, I just don't get them. If you don't understand a character how can you develop them?"

While it's completely true, in my experience, that you need to empathize with a character and understand them to help them grow, the solution to overcoming this ignorance is simple: Read books with genuinely strong female characters, read books written by women hang out on message boards and casually talk to women – ask them their opinions. 


Or better yet, do as Neil Gaiman suggested to those seeking advice on developing female characters: "Just write people."

Fiction is the genre about the impossible and the improbable. You can break barriers, be they laws of physics or cultural norms, but if you can't write women in fiction, then you have bigger problems than static characters.


A young girl's perspective on bullying

AMELIE SATTERLEE

Hi, I am a ten-year-old girl in fifth grade. I have noticed that school boys have tried to make girls feel weaker than them and make girls feel bad. I want to tell you some ways to ignore it and to stop it from happening.

One thing I have experienced myself is having what kids like to call “frenemies”. It means that they pretend to make fun of you and you pretend to make fun of them. Now that is not really being a bully because you are actually friends just pretending to be enemies, but sometimes it can still hurt people’s feelings.  It is best to stop being mean to each other because sometimes people will not know if it is a joke or not. And even if it’s a joke it can still hurt so it is best to not play that game.

Common bullying in school is like if someone laughs at you, says mean things like you look dumb, and stuff like that. Boys sometimes try to make girls feel weaker by making fun of them or saying that the girls are bad at things or that they are stupid. One way to make it stop is to just say “thank you.” If you do that you will get the bullies very disappointed because they wanted to make you sad and you showed them that it didn't work.  Another way to ignore it is to simply walk past them. That will get the bully thinking a bunch of questions in his head and not give them what they wanted, which was some kind of reaction. Finally, a good thing to do is to tell them to stop. Sometimes kids don’t even know that what they’re doing is hurtful unless you tell them.

Maybe they have been bullied so much that they don’t even realize its wrong, and you need to tell them.

So that’s how you can ignore common bulling. Now there is one more thing I want to say, if you are getting punched or really hurt or something there is only one thing to do and that is to tell someone like a parent or a teacher and they will do something about it. You have to get help. Also, stick up for others if you see them being made fun of. It will make you stronger to help others and you will help someone have a better day.

Les femme

JAMIE WATSON

On the first date, you kissed that theatrical drama club girl beneath the canopy of your mother’s swing set in a way she never thought she would let herself be kissed by a man with hair on his face, a man who looked like a skinny lumberjack and could shred his guitar like love letters from a disembodied youth.

Her youth didn't occur to you that night, or any night.

Lying on your back under a bed of hazy Arizona starlight, she was fifteen and you were about to turn twenty, and in the moment that seemed all right because she was smart enough to know she loved you.

So when she told you, she didn't want to kiss that way anymore, with the slippery slope of your mouth invading hers, you held her chin in your hand and turned her about like a plump piece of fruit and told her she was cute.

When she told you, at fifteen years old, that sex was disgusting, you took it as a challenge, because every boy loves a challenge.

You were fine with her kissing other girls.

I mean what’s a girl to a girl, when she has a top score guitar hero to guard the closet door and make sure nothing gets in? Or out?

You tried your best to keep her protected, you tried so hard to make your motives go undetected for her sake because if you ever found the guy that did what you wanted to do with her, you’d kill him.

And what a sad situation it was for you, when she started to fill things in.

How she ripped into you, how bad it must have hurt when she got on top and kissed you the way you kissed her the way she kissed those other girls.

Poor thing.

How dare she raise questions when all she needs to know are the bumby bits of your body, how dare she sail her vessel with ideas instead of sinking into your bedsheets, how dare she skim her pocket stones when all you really want is to bone, how dare a girl love herself more than she loved your cock?

You poor, poor boy.

You had to be the judge, and the defendant.

You had to learn how to put up a fight and be independent because she was so manipulative.

She only looked like a little girl, she told you she wanted it.

How dare she lie for your sake?

Now she creates her own warmth at night in her bed. She can take off her dick when she needs to think with her head and she has girls spinning to know her name so they know what to say when they reach the edge of an uncovered tenderness, of real bouts of laughter that start from the inside out, of freshness and favors.

Of sun-buttered kisses that promise more than just an orgasm.

I hope that you fall in love with more than just your reflection,

I hope the girl who hops stages with you doesn't need your protection,

I hope you can peel away your armor and stop trying to be a knight because someday, you’re going to have to learn,

Girls don’t need your permission to be all right.

Who's allowed to cry?

KHARLI MANDEVILLE

When I was a young girl, most especially during my years as a teenager over-wrought with hormones I often couldn't control, I used to cry.

I was also a very passionate person. I still am. During these surges of hormonal panic, every emotion was exaggerated. But I've always been a passionate person – not because I’m a woman, but because I care about a lot of things, well, a lot.

My brother and I grew up talking politics at the dinner table. In fact, religion, philosophy and politics were commonplace in most family conversation. It didn't take long before I was able to articulate the ideas of goodness and morality I’d grown to see as truths. I’d argue them fiercely at home and in the classroom. My brother grew to be the same. Tears often flowed, for the both of us, during these bouts of passionate conversation.

Where we differed was how we learned not to display emotion. My dad was realistic with me: As a woman, if I wanted to debate intellectual ideas, I’d have to keep my emotions in check. Though this is standard practice in debate, it isn't right that these rules applied to me more so than for boys. My dad realized this, but it was, and unfortunately still is, a sad truth of the world we live in. No one, especially men, would take me seriously if I reacted to debate with emotion. I’d be deemed “crazy,” someone with which debate was laughable.

It took time, probably until my early years of college, but I learned to suppress the tears that welled in my eyes anytime a peer argued in favor of any injustice in the world.

My brother learned this, too, but for him, it wasn't so easy. When the passion he felt during classroom debates brought tears to eyes, his peers reprimanded him for it, rather than our parents. Young boys can be so ruthless to other, vulnerable little boys.  Media and society propagandize to them that if they cry, they are not men, that they are worthless, and boys learn to single each other out earlier in life than we probably realize. My mom, a teacher, says she sees this behavior in her kindergarten students.

My brother and I learned not to cry as defense mechanisms against a world that shuns emotion for varying sexist reasons:

Girls who cry are crazy – as well as stereotypes, and boys who cry are weak. Now, I hardly ever cry anymore – and neither does my brother.

But if crying is so wrong, then why does it come so naturally to us? 

Journal excerpts

SHANNON YUSO

One day we’ll find a whole group of people who seek the truth.

We’ll listen to old records every day and nobody will watch TV.

We’ll write with our hands. We’ll cry in front of each other.

We’ll stop living by whatever identity others have assembled

for us from the jumble of last-minute decisions we’ve made.

I met someone beautiful yesterday.

She was smart and kind and had eyes like a cat and it was too much. for me. We

We kissed on mossy stone steps

and our teeth clicked together between wide smiles.

I’ve never smiled so much while kissing.

I don’t want to take a stand about it; get off my back.

Labels on boxes & categories of humans.

We need a new way. Stop defining, identifying all

as something else.

The facades, the insecurities, the judgment. 

Aren’t we all so sick of this?

They say it doesn’t stop, either.

And they wouldn’t lie about something as devastating as that.

So let’s start something new.

A revolution where we are good to each other.

And we take care of ourselves. And we think and empathize and place our hands

on each others’ shoulders and say, “you are important!”

Because it’s true.

Because you are important.

Because there’s nothing else that matters.

No, I’m not fucking sappy, I mean it.

It’s that cynical attitude that got us into this mess in the first place.

Stop laughing at people who are being honest. It’s hard to be honest.

Let’s just stop and think for a minute and try to say what we really mean.

Let’s run so fast that our feet can’t catch us.

Let’s jump down hills and spend endless bounds in the air!

Let’s not feel embarrassed ever again.

Let’s create everything we can think of and when we can’t think of anything else, we’ll dance and howl and burst into tiny infinite universes and sing as loud as we can.

And while we’re at it, we can quit judging others for who they

fall in love with?

And no, it’s not a phase for attention. 

Pronoun games

KAT ZUBKO

I don’t remember the first time someone used the pronoun “he” to refer to me recently, but I do know that people refer to me that way close to 50 percent of the time now.  Customers started to call “sir” across the aisles of the bookstore I work at to get my attention. At first, I ignored them. I didn't know whether they were referring to me, or to one of my coworkers. After a while, I answered to it. I've never corrected people for calling me “sir” or referring to me as “he”. I find it suits me as much as female pronouns do.

I identify as gender-queer. I am a female-bodied, masculine-of-center person. I don’t have a problem being called a butch lesbian, although the term “woman” has always been a problematic one for me. I don’t identify as a trans-man, although I have considered whether or not I am trans. I don’t know why I started being read as a man about six months ago. I have been masculine-presenting for years and have never been read as male in the past. When people suddenly began referring to me as “he” and “sir,” I was confused because although I am not trans, I was thrilled.

My friends, waiting in the wings to support whatever trans-identity I might one day adopt, asked whether or not the thrill I received from being read as male was an indication that I might actually be trans.

“How does it make you feel when people refer to you as ‘he?’” they asked. “Do you feel like it fits you better?”

The ultimate answer was I felt that neither female, nor male, nor gender-neutral pronouns fit me better than any other. I thought about it quite a bit and came to the same conclusion I did before: I am not trans, but gender-queer. Yet the question remained: Why did I find being called “sir,” “buddy” and “bro” so exciting?

The answer is complicated, but it can be boiled down to this, at least for me: When people, usually men, read me as male, I feel as though I am part of a club that I have never been included in before. I tend to be read as male by men more than by women. Interacting with cis-men when they perceive me as male is vastly different from when they interact with me as a butch woman.

I am hard-pressed to explain why these interactions are different, but they definitely are. When men perceive me as male, it is as if we are in on something together, something that women are not privy to. It is if I am winning a game, a game of male performance. Of course, the men who read me as male do not think of it in those terms; it is a world they are already immersed in, and I imagine that they take for granted most of the time.

Pronouns, like all terms in any language, are part of a language game. Ludwig Wittgenstein coined the term “language game” to describe the way we use language to get on in the world. For him, mastering language meant mastering the rules of the game. We learn these rules from interacting with other speakers of our language. We master the pronoun game early in life without thinking about it. We learn the difference between genders, and that men are referred to as “he” and women as “she”. However, it is a bit more complicated than that.

 In the pronoun game, we use reductionist ideas of what it means to be male or female, which are the genders we are given as children. “He” refers to someone with a penis who has secondary sex characteristics as well, just as “she” refers to someone with a vagina and corresponding secondary sex characteristics. Because we don’t all walk around naked, in our culture at least, we have to infer certain genitalia based on those secondary characteristics. Things such as body shape, facial hair, voice pitch and mannerisms give clues as to which pronoun is appropriate. Gender performance and proper names offer us more clues so that we quickly learn which pronoun we ought to assign to an individual.

The pronoun game is a way of getting on in the world, just as all language games are. It is a heuristic, which provides us with a nice little packet of information about a person. Upon hearing one word being used to refer to a person, “he” for example, we can assume all sorts of things about that person, depending how critical we are about gender constructions. When we hear someone referred to as “he,” we can assume that person has a penis, is able to grow facial hair or liked playing with trucks as a child rather than dolls. An exhaustive list of all of the assumptions we are given by gendered terms is massive, but impossible to pin down exactly.

The constellation of our assumptions somewhat depends on how critical we are about the social construction of gender, though to a great extent, these assumptions go largely unchallenged until we reach a certain age, if they ever are. These assumptions, in turn, give us information about how we ought to act toward a person. We rarely if ever think, “Oh, he referred to that person as ‘her’, so that means it is impolite for me to ask how old she is.” But that is exactly the kind of thing we can deduce from the use of the pronoun “she.” Of course, gender performance and the physical differences between men and women offer us clues about how to act toward someone based on gender. Pronouns, however, allow us to deduce a system of assumptions and values without ever having to set eyes on a person.

For me, the use of the pronoun “he” while referring to me makes me feel like I am pulling something off. I have been able, albeit unintentionally, to perform the male gender to the point where some people refer to me with male pronouns and other male terms. The person referring to me this way, as far as I know, is unconsciously playing the pronoun game to the best of their ability. Enough signs, whether physical or behavioral, lead them to decide that “he” is the best pronoun to use. I am partially thrilled because I am exploiting a lacuna in the system of reference in play. There is no correct pronoun for me to use to refer to my gender because I identify as neither man nor woman. I have exposed a flaw in a system of reference and occasionally this flaw becomes apparent to the other person if they are tipped off to the fact that I am female-bodied. I don’t know how often this leads other people to critically examine the use of pronouns, but at least their assumptions about gender have been momentarily challenged.

I would like to leave it at that, to simply say that being male-gendered is thrilling for its deconstructive potential. The other side of the pronoun coin, for me, is that when I am referred to as male, I feel like I gain male privilege in that instance. That male privilege, however brief it may be, is something with which I still have to reckon. It is something that I haven’t yet fully understood.