Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Going to buy a milk cow and some chickens

I read a very interesting blog post over on Young Mormon Feminists the other day, wanted to add some of my thoughts. It's called "Hate the Extrative Economy, Not the (domesticity) Game"

The author basically argues that many of the real issues facing women in our society are a result of amplified "principles of capitalism", a system of "extractive economy that mines any person, place and thing withing its reach", which have affected both men and women. The author quotes Betty Friedan in saying that the real reason behind the closing of the earnings gap between the genders is substantially because of the drop in men's earnings. More women are working, but not in addition to men. Men and women need to unite in this battle against the capitalist machine, instead of declaring each other enemies.

It is a reality that "the modern workplace makes time and energy demands that are suited to men and assumes that they have a spouse at home to take care of the chores of daily life". Not only is this seen in the workplace, but I've seen this especially in my church. It is expected that each individual has that nuclear family support structure, which allows the church to place demands on this individuals time and ability. Men work, women support. Women are assigned multiple individuals to fellowship (Visiting Teaching), expected to provide food for activities, decorate, provide music for services, all while juggling childcare, house maintenance and any semblance of social life they might have. Would you ever see a man bring a casserole? Decorate for the youth dance? Don't even get me started on the inequalities of visiting and home teaching.
I think this is why some people get disillusioned and offended in the church, because leadership see people in terms of households, which cumulatively have more resources to offer. Those members who do not fit in the box of the ideal Mormon family simply don't have the same physical and emotional resources to offer.

So often feminists react to the demands of domesticity, rather than this consumer based extractive culture they are operating under. The real issue here is that "women's tasks" or domestic productive tasks are demeaned, expected in support to the all important male providing role. Before the industrial revolution households produced rather than consumed. Families worked together, doing whatever they needed, regardless of gender roles. It is only in post-industrialism that gender roles became so firmly entrenched. 

This idea fits right in with my developing perspective on Third Wave Feminism, the idea that each woman has the right to define feminism for themselves. There should not be any blanket description of femininity or masculinity that is imposed, in either extreme. The cultural emphasis of women as consumers, the "this product will make taking care of your family easier" tripe that we are fed daily in television commercials limits their identity. Where as "true domestic skills- ranging from gardening to fixing cars to cooking- offer a way to begin taking back our relationships" from the machine of capitalism. No one gender should have the monopoly on any domestic skill.

So, as my fellow blogger states, when asked about my future and I say "in all seriousness, 'I'm going to buy a milk cow and some chickens'" it is because I am writing my own definitions of femininity as a domesticly productive woman, taking a stand against the prevailing extractive consumption based culture.

Original post:
http://youngmormonfeminists.org/2013/05/29/hate-the-extractive-economy-not-the-domesticity-game/

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

A Minor Procedure

My dad... he’s quite a character.

For example...

I took him into the hospital for a minor procedure, albeit slightly painful. He was whining and complaining, but nothing more that I expected. He’s always been a bit of a baby about pain. He makes deathbed confessions and promises quite regularly. We’ve just learned to smile and pat his hand. “There, there...”


We went into the patient intake, the nurse asks some questions (birthdate, allergies, insurance) and then off-handedley says, “And we are going in through the right one.”
“The right?” Dad asks.
“Yes, the right.”


Awkward pause.


“But I only have one bladder...”


Cue my inappropriate laughter.  
“What if they accidentally take your bladder? Mr. 'Smith', I'm sorry to tell you this, but we've lost your bladder!”
"Or like a cow, six bladders!"
"Um, I think that is stomachs."

The poor intake nurse just stares at us.

--------

After they process him, he’s all attached to various machines, poked like a pincushion and minorly humiliated. They allow me back in and I magnanimously take on my responsibility of distracting him from the upcoming pain and awkwardness.
We first discuss the possibility to an alien tracking device being implanted in him during the surgery... pros and cons... are these benevolent anthropologist-like aliens? Maybe this implant can cure cancer, in which case we are all for it.


Then we move onto death by stepping into some sort of particle beam. “Kind of like in Quantum Leap!” I suggest
“Yeah! What was the name of the machine.... the kind of God like character that told him what his mission was...”
“Zoey.... Mickey... no...”


“Ziggy!” we both nearly shout in unison.

-----------

Through all of this sparkling conversation, he is complaining about being hungry.
“They say after the surgery I can’t leave till I eat, drink and pee. So I’m thinking a big steak from the 5 star Grill... but no... what do I get? Jello.”
“I like Jello.” I cautiously interject.
“But it’s so... hospitally.”
“Oh, very clique” I add helpfully. “And dangerous, remember in 3rd Rock from the Sun?”
“Oooh, maybe a big teriyaki burger!”
“Well, if you are really good, maybe you can have one for dinner tonight,” I suggest.
He rolls his eyes dangerously.

----

After the surgery, I text my mother for a status update.
“Is he out?”

And her superfluous response.... “He survived”.

Friday, May 24, 2013

A Formal Betrothal

All characters appearing in this work are real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely intended. Names have been changed to protect the identities of these individuals.

---


“What is his name?” Sam asked for the hundredth time.
“I’m so tired of saying there isn’t anyone,” thought Angela. “I’m going to make this good.”
“His name is Reginald...I’ve been betrothed to him to save my family from financial ruin. He gets me and two goats.” responded Angela.
“Why have you kept this from me!?” Sam cried in agony.
“It’s purely a match for convenience. Its my secret tragedy.” Angela blustered, grinning in enjoyment.
“This is all not very nice. And I’m assuming the goats and arrangement is a church thing, right?” Sam responded.
“Of course,” Angela replied. “Would you expect anything else?”
“I just didn’t know you would turn like this and be so NOT nice. Keeping secrets like this.”

“Uh oh,” thought Angela... “He’s not taking this seriously is he? Arranged marriage and goats, really?”
“Oh..Sam... I’m sorry." she faltered. "Did I take that too far? Ok... If there ever really is a guy, I’ll tell you.”
“Wait... you mean this actually isn’t happening?” Sam spluttered back.
“No Sam! I’m not letting anyone trade me with goats!" Angela shrieked. "But it was a good story though...wasn’t it?”
“Yes... But I’m not completely thrilled with you at the moment.”
“I’m sorry. It was funny! I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”
“I thought it was real. I was sure you were betrothed,” Sam complained.
“Not at all. I’m sorry.” confessed Angela.
“I still think it’s real and you’re trying to back out because you realized you were driving the dagger deep.”
“Well, in that case... Can we still be friends when I have to marry Reginald?”, suggested Angela slyly
“Yes we can. Can we still make biscuits together after you’re married to Regie?”
“Yes please! Good old Reggie.”

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Mission Statement

Space.... the final frontier. These are the voyages of Angela, her continuing mission to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man or woman has gone before.

Now when I say space... I mean this in both a literal and metaphorical sense. There is much of this world and it's inhabitants that I have yet to explore and understand. So... wagons ho! Here comes the adventure of my life!