Grey Murder?

Here's my thought provoking question du jour: Is it hypocritical to support abortion ONLY in cases of rape or incest? Isn't that like saying, "A fetus is a life, abortion is murder...unless you've suffered in these specific ways. Then that fetus is NOT a life. To Hell with that fetus!" It proves that many anti-choice people actually just have a problem with women's sexuality--if they're willingly having sex, then we want to punish them by stripping them of control over their bodies. We call it murder. If the women are victims, and we don't have any way to judge them, they're no kind of sexual threat so "murder" is okay.

I know that many (maybe most?) anti-choicers don't even approve of abortion in the case of rape or incest, so obviously these points don't necessarily extend to all of them. You know, to cover my ass.

Now, this news may shock you, but I am pro-choice. I believe that abortion is alright, and should be safe and legal. And if we say "abortion is right," can we really judge the circumstances under which people get them? When liberals bristle over the implication that women have abortions for frivolous reasons by responding that most women DON'T have them for frivolous reasons*, that reinforces the idea that there are BAD reasons to get abortions. Just not wanting a baby isn't good enough. Now, for most women, the decision to get an abortion is a huge decision, one most of us hope we'll never have to make. But if the decision's not that difficult, if the woman just knows, "I don't feel like carrying a baby for 9 months, birthing it, and possibly raising it," if we believe in a woman's right to govern her own body then there is not only no excuse, but no reason to judge.

Just to lighten things up (I'm afraid I'm getting too serious on y'all), here is the crazy website that, tangentially, inspired this post:

http://www.jonathontheimpalerforpresident2008.us/Campaign_Page.html


*As Whoopi recently did on The View, not to criticize Whoopi, I'm just sayin'

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Skate Fast Good, Fall Down Bad!

As some of you know, I have a passion for roller derby. This is not the kind of derby like that in Roll Bounce or whatever--it's the kind from A&E's Rollergirls. Seeing that show a few times whilst in Texas is what got me into it, and when I returned to the Republic of New York I googled the shit out of that sport. No, sadly, I am not a practitioner--I wish! But as I am without time or talent, I must be content to cheer from the bleachers. Which, this Saturday, I did--Championship game! And my favorite team, the Bronx Gridlock, won it all, in a very dramatic game with a miraculous near-comeback from the Queens of Pain--it all came down to the last 2 minutes.

For those unfamiliar, there was an article in the Times on Saturday. I think it's ok, but it makes it sound like it's not a sport, and that the crowd is men who come to gawk. Make no mistake--these women are ATHLETES. It's like rugby on skates, plus fishnets and make-up. Rugby without any assumptions about sexuality. To cite the interview with derby girl Penny Larceny:

Derby originally appealed to Penny as an opportunity to be more social and feminine. Unlike some incoming skaters, Penny had already pursued other aggressive and physical activities such as kickboxing and martial arts, but viewed derby as a way to "reclaim certain girl traits without trading in power. Skirts and makeup to go along with skill and strength, instead of replacing it."

This is the kind of thing I love more than anything. The, "Look, we can be badass and powerful AND be girls!" There's nothing sexualized about a derby match, but the women clearly feel sexy and strong, and there's a lot of individuation--everyone's uniform is a little different, everyone has their own style and personality. There are women of all sizes and shapes (though unfortunately the league is mostly white), and they all have their own strengths.

So yeah, this last game was INCREDIBLE. Bronx was killing Queens, and in the second half Queens was slowly closing the gap but clearly didn't have enough time on the clock to catch up--until Suzy Hotrod... ...scored an incredible FOURTEEN POINTS IN ONE JAM. The score was 93 to 90 Bronx, 1:13 left to go, and all the Bronx jammers were in the penalty box, so Queens was skating unopposed! But then Brigitte Barhot got out of the box and managed to keep Queens at bay! The whole crowd was on its feet.

Another cool part of the game was an exchange I had with my friend Dael:

Dael: Who's the leader of the E Street Band?
Susan: Um, Bruce Springsteen?
D: No, of the actual band.
S: Oh, I dunno. Max Weinberg? Stevie Van Zandt? Those are the only names I know.
D: Who's that guy sitting up there behind us?
S: Oh my god that's Stevie Van Zandt*.

Yep, this guy:

...whom you may also know as Silvio from The Sopranos, was there in all his head-wrapped glory. He was on his own at first but some off-duty derby girls came and sat with him, and he seemed to be very nice. So, that's how cool derby is-- The Boss's right-hand man is a fan!

As you should be, too.

*Full disclosure: I actually went around calling him Steve Zahn most of the night.

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More On Teh Slutz

I recently posted about an essay from Nerve awhile back. I confess, I had not read it in awhile, and posted it for the sake of the Sex and the Citystuff. A few people took issue (unfortunately by email and not in the comments!) with the essay as a whole. So let's discuss.

First of all, I definitely read it that Wilner is criticizing her friends' behavior (and her own) when she discusses the sense of competition among them--'bad' behavior is praised to the point that Wilner feels she has to make her exploits sound naughtier than they were. Some people though she was endorsing this, but I strongly disagree:

But something unfortunate and inevitable has happened, which is that the freedom and beauty of the slut has been noticed, codified and replicated. Now it's not just a way to be, it's an aspiration, a point of competition. It's the girl who sees how long she can go without sleeping at her own place, like my friend Melanie. It's the girl who's trying to "collect all fifty states," like Alex, who lived down the hall from me. All this counting! Like any defined system of measurement — including the system of poodle-skirt wearing chastity — it can get oppressive.

(For the record, I don't call myself a slut. At one point I tried calling myself a playah, but that didn't feel right, either. Both terms imply a lack of respect, either for oneself or one's partners, and I don't feel like doing that even in jest. I know we're reclaiming terms and all, but I don't think my activities are strange enough to require that kind of name. As I've discussed, I have sex when I feel like it--I'm not trying to notch up that belt, but I don't deprive myself based on abstract principles.)

I agree that much of the essay is sloppy and glib, but I think at heart it's criticizing the romanticization of "sluttiness"--and there are good reasons to criticize it. The point she fails to effectively make is that there's not anything inherently wrong, or aberrant, about a woman having NSA sex, and to call that a "slut phase" is to pathologize it. It's apologetic--'oh, I know it's wrong, but there are extenuating circumstances so it's ok to do for awhile.' How bout this: don't call yourself a slut, and then you don't have to apologize for it!

Also, I don't buy the part about going to her friend's place to see her conquest of the evening. Why would the guy have come to the door with her in his boxers? He totally would've hid out in the bedroom.

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Thank You Annie Leibovitz

As a PS, here is my all-time favorite photo of the Stripes:


It was way better in the original form, as a two-page spread in Vanity Fair--I had it on my wall sophomore year of college and it made me very happy. As I hope it does you.

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Fell In Love With A Girl. Unfortunately.

I do not have a crush on Jack White. Really. I swear. When I saw The White Stripes this summer, I found myself more able to fantasize about Meg than about Jack. And yet when I hear anything about his wife and children, I find myself pretty jealous. I want to pretend it's not true. Maybe it's a reverence-of-the-mythos thing, like I just don't want to think about anyone being important to Jack other than Meg. But probably it is SOME form of crush.

It helps that he went from his Sleazy Catfish look back to the Weird And Cute Jack:

(I think that latter is from the pre-Catfish days, as he's no longer quite that skinny, but you get the idea.)

I've always loved his "weirdness." And I find it strangely endearing that when he married Meg (sorry Jack, we know she's not your sister) he took her last name. (Is that hypocritical of me?) I love the band, obviously, and I love his commitment to the mythology of the band. But I really don't think I had any sort of celeb fantasy that he would one day be mine. Except that apparently I did. Because any reference to his red-haired supermodel* wife makes me feel dejected. Oh Jack! So, I confess: officially count me as having a crush. Cuz really, I haven't been this crestfallen since I found out Jon Stewart was married.

And now that I think about it, I'm actually a little disappointed whenever someone mentions Jack Black, because I wish they were talking about MY Jack. I mean, no one understands him or appreciates him the way I do, right? I totally love Jack more than anyone. I INVENTED liking Jack White. And one day he will be Jack B. Anthony.

Obviously.

[UPDATE: Please feel free to share any of your I-Can't-Believe-It's-A-Celebrity-Crush stories.]

*according to Wikipedia

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That Helpful Third Wheel

Your friend Susan B. does not date a lot. It's not that I'm a sad sack sitting around moaning for a boyfriend*, and I've dated nicely this year, but usually I am not in a relationship, and don't have many serious ones under my belt.

And yet.

I have always found this really funny, but my becoupled friends love to ask me for relationship advice. I don't understand why. Sometimes there's a clear reason--like, there's a specific issue and they know I have knowledge or experience in that area--but much of the time there is not. One pair in college simply tried to make me into their couples therapist. And I wonder about the impulse. Is it because I was a psych major? Because I seem generally wise? Or is it partially--and I've long suspected this--that they think my chronic singledom means I know something they don't? A lot of people in relationships romanticize being single to a degree, but I wonder if some of my friends (especially ones who are younger or don't know me THAT well) view me as somehow above the fray. There was a Times article after the Dumbledore outing about how "[t]he master wizard is not a sexual being; he has shelved personal cares and embraced a higher mission." So maybe I'm some kind of paladinic guru! (On the other hand, no one that I recall asked Gandalf for relationship advice.)

But seriously folks. I guess it's that people want an outside perspective, and a single person is more outside than someone in a different relationship that comes with its own problems and biases. But why a PERPETUALLY single person? Eh, I dunno. I don't dislike it --except in situations where I feel like people ONLY want to hang out so they can tell me about their romantic problems--and I love being there for my friends and being trusted to help, or at least sympathize, with their important issues. But I don't really understand it. One of my friends posited, mostly joking, that I was single BECAUSE of all the relationship tsuris I'd ingested over the years. She envisioned me meeting the man of my dreams, getting flooded with the memory of every bad story I'd been told, and running in the opposite direction. Which is a convenient excuse--I'm not a dateless loser, I've just been scared straight!

But, yknow, probably the Loser Hypothesis is a little more accurate :)


*That would be what we call "four years of college."

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Hate The Sinner, Not The Sin?

I've talked along these lines before, but something a bit more specific has bothered me lately--they way we discuss anorexia. In my experience, we hear the word "anorexia" and say, "Oh what an awful disorder! Unrealistic beauty standards are destroying women and girls!" But when we hear someone called an "anorexic" we say, "God, that annoying Paris-wannabe needs to fucking eat something already."*

This is in part because of the latest influx of pro-ana groups like the one on RingsWorld or the Teen Vogue message boards. But by sneering at these groups, aren't we agreeing with them that anorexia is a lifestyle choice rather than a medical condition?

I am guilty of all of this as well. I'm wondering why. Is it that most of us don't really believe, in our hearts, that anorexia nervosa is an illness? We ascribe the behavior to shallow bitches, the TV-style prom queens who possibly made us miserable when we were teens. I suppose it's that we know that these pro-ana girls think they're better than we are. But aren't we hypocrites if we don't ascribe that to their disorder? Shouldn't all this arouse more pity than hatred and derision?

One pro-ana advocate recently live-blogged her suicide. Mamavision.com is in fact a great blog regarding eating disorders, and she manages to treat the "pro-ana" community as the horror it is without ridiculing the girls who are so far gone that they proudly post photos of their feeding tubes.

So, what do you guys think? Do you find that we treat people with eating disorders like they just have a bad personality? Is some level of derision warranted--and if so, why?

*Which is reminding me of that frosh year psychopathology lecture about clinical terminology, and the PC way to use it was saying that someone "suffered from schizophrenia" rather than saying they were "a schizophrenic." The move is against defining people by their disorders. Probably applicable here, no?

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