Tag: sexism

Protect Your Peace

Today’s Holidailies prompt requests advice for surviving the holiday season.

My best advice is to learn how to say “no.” So much of holiday stress comes from overcommitting. Yes, I’ll make the cookies. Yes, I’ll make something for the office pot luck. Yes, I’ll put up all the decorations. Yes, I’ll attend this…and that…and the other. Yes, I will put up with Auntie Mabel’s and Uncle George’s political/racist/sexist/homophobic rants and go to their house for the sake of keeping peace.

There’s no law saying you have to do all of that. There’s no law saying you have to sacrifice your own enjoyment of the season by running yourself ragged and spending time with people you find ghastly.

On that last point, the last time I spent Christmas Day with anyone other than myself (and Inigo, when he was alive), it was with an ex-boyfriend’s family. Several members of his family irritated me and seemed to get off on trying to be offensive and push people’s buttons. For example, one of the cousins and I don’t eat meat. Their way of expressing their opinion about that was to wave turkey legs in our faces on Thanksgiving. Real juvenile stuff.

On this particular Christmas, in 2013, Barack Obama was in his second term as President and some people in that family didn’t like him, including my ex’s father. Someone in my ex’s family—probably his mother or someone else who was on my Facebook at the time and saw me celebrate something Obama did—VERY IDIOTICALLY told him I had voted for Obama. Now, see, for the first few years of the relationship, I actually liked my ex-boyfriend’s father: Like his son, he told funny stories about the jail where they both worked. He had a dry wit and interesting hobbies, and he and his wife loved to collect all kinds of antiques and collectibles that they picked up at estate sales and painstakingly organized throughout their home and in the basement.

Unfortunately, once he found out I voted for Obama, every time I saw the guy, it was “your boy did this” and “your boy did that.” I had managed to tune him out for a while, either ignoring his digs or saying things like “I’m so liberal, I believe you’re entitled to your opinion.” Then slowly but surely, the hate started to come out. It was always there, to hear my ex-boyfriend tell it, but now his father and other people in that family felt neither compunction nor allegience to good manners and it became pretty apparent that there were a lot of racists and homophobes among them. Not all, as some of the cousins were pretty cool, and more than one confessed to finding the bigots annoying. They appeared to be in the minority howver, and of course the bigots would have shouted them down or even targeted them if they said anything.

And this Christmas the bigots were in rare form, especially my ex’s mother’s brother and my ex’s father. They stopped shy of using the N-word outright, but they didn’t have to say it. It was there in their undertone. Unfortunately, my ex and I were seated between them so I was hearing it in stereo. Better yet, my ex had told me he voted for Obama both times, yet his family didn’t know. (Looking back on it, and the general lack of integrity he revealed to me over the last couple of years of the relationship, he might have been lying to me. I’ll never know.) So there I was, 47 years old, kneeing my 37-year-old boyfriend under the table to try to get him to tell his family to lay off. Finally I said, “Yeah, well, your son voted for him, too,” which got me both a bug-eyed glare from my ex and kneed under the table myself. So I kneed my ex even harder, like, “Then tell them to shut the hell UP!”

No balls, that guy. It was his mother who put a hand up and said, “TOM” and he reined it in.

Until everyone else went home but my ex, my ex’s brother, my ex’s brother’s girlfriend of a couple of months, and me. Then O Holy Night, what diatribes we were subjected to. I don’t even want to share what he said here. It was beyond vicious. It was also malicious and aggressive toward the brother’s new girlfriend. She was a vet tech and this guy told a story of how my ex-boyfriend’s pet gerbil had some kind of growth over his eye, so he put it in a shoebox, took it out to the backyard, and shot up the shoebox. The poor thing wasn’t dead when he opened the box, which he described in detail, so then he shot at it directly. Why on EARTH would someone tell that story in front of a newcomer he KNEW was a vet tech? Not only was I incredulous at the whole nasty display of cruelty, myself, when I searched her face, I saw there were tears in her eyes. Needless to say, she broke up with my ex’s brother shortly after that.

If I had only been dating my ex for a couple of months, I’d have been out of there, too. I already had seven years in, though, and my ex lived far enough away from his parents that they couldn’t just drop in and ruin a date night.

I did, however, refuse to see them again after that. About a month later, they invited my ex and me over for dinner after my ex and I had a dental appointment near their house. I had told my ex repeatedly that I wasn’t up for going, both because I tend to feel sore and don’t want to eat after dental appointmens, and because, frankly, I didn’t feel comfortable around them if his father was going to behave that way. My ex relayed none of this to them (see? no balls). Then he was nearly an hour late picking me up for the appointment, whereupon he told me we WERE going to his parents’ house afterward. As I was already weary of his various and sundry other crappy behaviors and in that place where a woman thinks “if I’m going to be alone in a relationship, I’d rather just be alone,” and come on, if you know me at all, you’d know that I will not be coerced, forced, or otherwise dragged anywhere because a man says so, I don’t care WHO he is, that was the end of that relationship.

Looking back on it now, and having spent the last six years writing about mental health and neurological conditions, I have more than a sneaking suspicion that my ex’s father’s behavior had to do with his health. He had been recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and both the condition and the medications for it can be disinhibiting. My ex’s parents may have been feeling bad about the whole thing and were trying to make it up to me, too, as apparently they picked up some of my father’s artwork to gift to me. I didn’t know that at the time, though. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be subjected to another string of epithets and invective.

And if that’s what you might be facing this holiday season, you don’t need to subject yourself to it, either. Protect your peace, even if it means hurting a few feelings.

No snowflake tonight. I didn’t finish it last night. But here’s my fortune from tonight’s takeout. After reliving all of the nonsense above in the telling, I’ll take it.

A fortune from a fortune cookie that says "Your Wednesday will be filled with love, happiness, and harmony."

Team Taylor

Lawd, but I am so sick of people bashing Taylor Swift and the misogyny that doing so reveals about them.

Let me preface this by saying that although I do love two of her albums (folklore and evermore), I’m not a Swiftie in that I wouldn’t pay thousands of dollars to see her in concert, I only listen to her music on Spotify and haven’t actually purchased any of her albums, and I haven’t seen the movie about her. Therefore, this isn’t a knee-jerk reaction to criticism of something I personally enjoy or someone I admire.

This is about the cultural war over her and the rampant sexism and misogyny fired at her and her fans. CNN had a good piece on why you should watch what you say about Taylor Swift in front of your kids, because they will pick up on what you say. The author made the point that Eminem flipping off the crowd after his football team lost was seen as “relatable” but Swift watching her boyfriend play football and cheering on his team was seen as a publicity stunt and a distraction.

Over the past few months I’ve seen this culture war play out on Threads, the Twitter alternative that is tied to Instagram. People—usually white men in trucker’s caps—ragged incessantly on Swift for doing what they themselves do, which is watch her boyfriend play football. Funny how no one criticized me when I dated a football player back in high school and went to all of his games to cheer him on. So what is it about Swift that edges these men so much?

First, she’s wildly successful as a businessperson in a way none of them will ever be. Yet they’ll fawn over blowhards like Elon Musk and the Orange Ape, both of whom have proven to be terrible at every aspect of business except for wasting other people’s money and ruining any major venture they inherit or buy.

Second, she’s outspoken and strong.

Third, she’s not afraid of being vulnerable.

Fourth, she’s beautiful and super feminine in her appearance and carriage.

It’s those last two that really set the toxic guys off. She’s beautiful and feminine, but she’s not pliable or submissive. In their minds, being feminine should also mean being malleable and easily dominated, and Swift is anything but. Does not compute! Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!

Compare this with Pink going to see then-boyfriend Carey Hart race in motocross. There was no criticism of her at all, and she proposed to him at one of his races by holding up signs saying “Will you marry me?” and “Serious!” as he was actually racing. How is that not a “distraction” but Taylor Swift going to a football game is? Don’t get me wrong: Pink has her own brand of beauty and femininity, but her image is that she’s one of the “cool” chicks, someone you’d hang out and have a few beers with while you both watched her now-husband do what he does. She wears her hair short, she’s built like an athlete, and her strength is the kind that implies that she’ll kick your ass if you say anything about anyone she loves. She’s one of the girls guys see as one of the guys. That has its own toxic perspective, wherein an athletic woman is seen as masculine, but that’s a post for another day.

I’ve also seen words like “simp” lobbed at Travis Kelce for showing affection to Swift. For those not up on internet slang, simp is a word used by certain men, usually incels (involuntarily celibates), to describe someone who shows excessive sympathy and attention toward another person, typically someone who does not reciprocate the same feelings, in pursuit of affection or a sexual relationship. Uh, yeah. Pretty sure that doesn’t apply to Kelce, as it’s obvious Swift loves the guy. As a pro athlete, he wouldn’t have a hard time getting sex, either, and therefore wouldn’t need to be unctuous just to get attention from women. The misogynists are angry that someone they would consider to be an “alpha male” dares to show affection for a woman he loves, because in their eyes, alpha males should treat women like garbage.

All of this hatred toward Swift and Kelce reflects a culture of misogyny and toxic masculinity, one that fills social media and popular discourse. It’s a sign of insecurity among those who belittle Swift and Kelce, many of whom will also natter on about the “crisis of male loneliness.” These dullards might as well wear a hat with a logo declaring their hatred of anyone who isn’t White and male like them.

Oh, wait… Most of them do. A red one.

Well, I have no sympathy for those guys. Half of them are angry that women want nothing to do with them, yet don’t see how they’re the common denominator in all of their failed attempts to date and find love. The other half may be partnered, but I guarantee that most of their wives or girlfriends do a helluva lot more housework and childminding than they do, even as those women also work full-time, and then these guys will wonder why their wives won’t sleep with them. They’re the kind of guy who struts around acting like he deserves a medal for Father of the Year for changing a diaper, pushing a stroller, or taking his kid to the park for a game of catch. They’re the kind of guy who will take a woman for granted and then say “she blindsided me” when the couple hits their 50s, the kids leave the nest, and she leaves him.

Is it any wonder young women are increasingly eschewing dating and relationships in favor of building their careers and working toward buying their own homes, and even deciding, in their late 30s, to go to a sperm bank and try IVF if they want a child? Patriarchy likes to decree “why buy the cow when you can get the milk free?” but women have turned that on its head and declared “why buy the whole pig for just a little sausage?”

More women are in college than men. More women are in law school and med school than men. And the more women rise, the more this pathetic subset of men hates them for it, and they aim their hatred at Swift because they see Swift as symbolic of the women they want but who are leaving them behind, the smart, beautiful, talented women who seek and receive more from a man than what these guys have to offer. Same goes for the women and girls who love Swift’s music and are Swifties. These guys tend to be the type who inherently belittle anything a girl or woman is interested in, so it’s double threatening when girls and women see value in a strong, successful woman. Wouldn’t want the little wimmin’ gettin’ ideas.

Well, to hell with those guys. I say more power to the young women who have decided they’d rather be alone than put up with their nonsense, and more power to Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. Rock on with your strength, and don’t mind the angry little men behind the curtain. Their time is over, and yours has just begun.

Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift. Image: Patrick Smith/Getty Images

Oh, Shut Up, Elmo.

You know what I want for Christmas? A Shut-Me-Up Elmo. Instead of tickling him, when he runs his mouth, you tell him to shut up and he apologizes for being an ignorant asshat and then never again speaks about things he knows nothing about.

Seriously. Eleven kids with three different women, and Elon Musk wants to talk about morality? So tired of these sexist jackdonkeys who think women’s highest achievement is to reproduce. Ya know, for the majority of women, it’s not rocket science. Lie on your back and let a dude ride raw and finish.

As for the rest, it is patently offensive and cruel to deem people who don’t have kids as “genetic dead ends.” Has that fool never heard of infertility? Not everyone who does want kids can have them or afford expensive fertility treatments.

He has also passed comments about how he thinks people who don’t have kids shouldn’t be allowed to vote because he thinks they have no stake in the future. I never wanted kids, but believe me, I have a stake in the future. I shudder to think of a world where egomaniacs like him get to dictate another human being’s life purpose, so one of the ways I seek to leave the world a better place than I found it is to counter ignorant commentary by his ilk.

Regardless, Elmo can run his yap about his OWN experience when he not only actively takes part in parenting on the level a woman does—there is a joke among kid-free feminists where women say “I’d make a great father”—AND he has raised kids into adults who actually want anything to do with him, because trust me, when your own daughter won’t speak to you, you’ve done something heinous as a parent.

Furthermore…

1. Eleven kids is a helluva lot of environmental destruction for one man’s ego. Ya wanna talk about morality? How about ethics?

2. Yes, other people’s kids will take care of me when I am old and ailing. They’re called nurses and home care aides. Having kids as some kind of insurance for adult daycare is both selfish and delusional. One visit to a nursing home should cure him of that notion. See also, “daughter who won’t speak to you,” above.

3. If you need to have kids to teach you how to love, be selfless, and have fulfillment, you’re entitled, privileged, selfish, and tedious to begin with. Having kids won’t change that. You’ll just raise them to be entitled, privileged, selfish, and tedious, too. Or, again, they won’t talk to you when they’re adults.

4. As for all these misogynists going on about Taylor Swift’s cover on Time, whining about her being an example of how feminism has “ruined women,” and nattering on about how she’s an “aging, promiscuous cat lady,” don’t threaten women with a good time, boys. If women would rather share their lives with creatures who crap in a box (or in my case, on newspapers or my sweatshirts) than you, you need to do some introspection on what kind of person you are and what it is you think you offer a woman because we don’t need either the money or the extra housework, and we can buy batteries.

A typical rebuttal from a misogynist is that “you need us to have children.” Well, no. We don’t really need men to have or raise children, either. I know several women who went to sperm banks in their late 30s and did IVF. These women have great careers and can provide for a child, and also have a great family and social network—the proverbial village in which to raise a child, including brothers and male friends who can offer a male’s perspective or be a father figure but whom they know will not indoctrinate their children in the ways of toxic masculinity. But again, if a woman is fertile and has all the social support that’s necessary for healthy parenting, all she needs to do is lie on her back (although I wouldn’t recommend that route, as it’s better to know a male’s genetic carriage like you would with a sperm bank). If that ticks off these fragile males, oh well. Be the kind of equal life partner and co-parent women would want to have a family with and you won’t have any problems living your dream of being a family man.

Another misogynistic rebuttal is “You need us to protect you.” From what? Oh, right, other men, both on an individual level with intimate partner violence, sexual assault, predation, and other crimes, and on a macro level with the wars that by and large are waged by men who fail to see a way to peace.

Yeah, no. Sell all of that somewhere else. Healthy, strong men who are comfortable in their skins live and let live.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to announce my Song of the Year, “Labour,” by Paris Paloma. It’s an ode to the unfair distribution of work in a heterosexual couple’s household and the realization that no man is ever a woman’s savior. Turn on captions to follow the lyrics.