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kim's blog
The Self chapter really opened my eyes to some burdens that common men may face. I, too, as Vincent had, pinned all straight, white, educated males as having it easy and not having any negative aspect about their societal identity. I really did find her intrusion in this chapter unacceptable, even in the name of her book, but it appears she did as well. By wanting Paul (Corey actually did) to cut her, it seemed like she was paying pennance. This was her Hail Mary for breaking trust on such an intimate level. It seems likely that some of the men in the group will read this book and recognize themselves, or atleast recognize Ned and be really pissed off about it. I'm sure they'll vent their rage in their healthy ways, but it's still injuring. As Darryl said in class, it's like unto rape for a woman. I think this is an exaggeration, but it's not too far off on the emotional scale. At first in reading this chapter, I thought, why is it fair that no women should be able to join? Men can join feminist groups and usually they find a mutually valuable niche. But in reading I realized they didn't allow women to join in order to avoid the type of judgement and scrutiny that plagued them, which I was already putting into place simply in reading about them. It's odd that a 'men's movement' involves therapy and huggy time (not to belittle it at all), and a 'women's movement' involves the arousal of more aggressive instincts and power. I guess it's nothing more than what comes from liberating two societally bound genders from their detrimental norms.
It surprised me that three women still wanted to sleep with Norah Vincent when they found out that Ned was really a woman. I can't say that it wouldn't freak the hell out of me. I would be really angry if a love interest, male or female, had deceived me in such a huge way. I guess that might be a peculiarity I have. I guess I have a big fear of being lied to or deceived. Also, it surprised me that those women were so open to trying sex with a woman. Like I said, I can't say I would have been as open. I really think it was wrong that Norah deceived so many people in such a way in this chapter, and I didn't really find anything worthy of this deceit. 2 comments | read more | 415 reads
The very first time Norah Vincent went out in drag was really amazing to me. The difference in the way men treated her was really shocking. It makes me consider how many times walking on campus I've been stared down by some guy, and just brushed it off. It makes me realize how incredibly rude that is, and that I should have known that that was incredibly rude, but because I'm so used to it I didn't. I really liked reading the Friendship chapter about Ned and his bowling team. It's sad that she noticed that all of the men immediately accepted Ned as one of their own, which rarely happens in the female domain.
I think it was really her at the end because the narrator says 'she's warm.' But it was really confusing. Also, everything is redecorated, and it says Louise's face is thinner with a scar beneath her lip, which I don't think the narrator would have imagined. It was really annoying that Winterson didn't elaborate!! I wanted to see the happy ending, I didn't just want to know it's there. Maybe it was so surreal that the narrator felt like she was imagining it, so I think that it really was her. It was quite a cliche. The narrator suddenly and abruptly became male when he was beating up Elgin.
Wow it's hard to believe our final papers are due on Monday already. I went to the library to put Oranges on reserve. I hope it's as good as Written on the Body (and I hope it reads just as quickly! 4 comments | read more | 292 reads
The second reading section of Written on the Body was just as, if not more, beautiful than the first. It was also, though, more painful. Can I justify the narrator's infidelity with hir love for Louise? Probably not, but it's not mine to justify. It, of course, feels so because I'm seeing this world through hir eyes. Why should it be justified? Jacqueline's is not the first heart to be broken by the narrator. The most heart-breaking part was when Jacqueline came back to the narrator's 'flat.' The excrement part was effective and fit into the whole body thing. At first I thought this book might just become porn on paper or something because it's about love and the body, but really we do love with our bodies.
According to this http://www.snopes.com/history/american/burnbra.htm , women's rights activists in the 1960's never burned their bras. It was simply a media ploy to make the women's lib movement look stupid. Fooled me. Not the stupid part, but I thought it really happened. 1 comment | 429 reads
"I am interested in liberating femmeness from all of the values assigned to it under a class-based economic culture." Written on the Body gives me trouble. It's beautiful to read and it's full of passion and it interests me, but, because of past experiences, I have a very sensitive spot for infidelity. I hate hear or read about cheating lovers. The protaganist isn't really winning me over because of how s/he consciously decides to be unfaithful. I do love the language, though. It's poetic, but not at all too flowery. I also had trouble because at first I was trying to pin the narrator as male or female. The nature of relationships in the book so far suggests male, but there is something feminine about hir thought process, at least it feels so to me. After trying to switch back and fourth in my head, I just decided to try and make the protaganist me, which was difficult because I'm straight and couldn't imagine loving a woman like that. So now I'm just trying not to think about it and make the narrator nothing more than a human voice. I'm sort of enjoying reading it, because it's really good writing, but for me to cheat on someone is just as bad as murder. It feels like I'm reading about a serial killer. 2 comments | read more | 286 reads
I share others' dissapointment in the ending of Egalia's Daughters. Maybe it's just my combative nature peeking out, but it pisses me off that 'As always, Ruth Bram had the final word.' Just like I don't really feel that Petronius ever found justice for what Gro did to him physically and emotionally. She probably was, however, embarassed that he did not want her fatherhood-protection. The first time I read the last chapter, I merely skimmed, but I went back and read it and I like it more now (except for the frustration found in Ruth Bram's last words). I liked the gay bar and the demonstrations. The boys made me proud with that, but the ending was a bit anti-climactic. When Gro beat up Petronius there was nothing 'better' about it than a man beating a woman. Someone mentioned they thought that today in class, which I kind of understand because that's how I thought about the rape scene, but it was really disturbing. I felt like crying. I think the worst thing wasn't the physical beating, but Gro is supposed to love Petronius. Obviously she just wants to possess him, she didn't really love him all that time. It was just really sad for him. I'm soo soo soo glad, though, that he didn't accept her fatherhood-protection.
Petronius's speech at the peho burning was good; it pretty much summed up everything oppressive about their society and most of the things that needed to be changed. I found deception, but not contention, in the section where they infiltrated parliament through the Donna Jessica's Message party. The method was wrong because they lied, but it was definitely clever. It was not as effective as one would hope, but I think it was the best they could hope for. I think if they had tried to become a party, no one would have taken them seriously. On the other hand, however, they got alot of bad press (if there is such a thing) for what they did.
The now unfamilliar-looking word 'man' was used on page 158. I wonder if this was a typo or a tool. It doesn't seem like the word exists, but it was in a place where the younger menwim WERE seeing Owlmoss as a 'man' as we think of them in our reality. They were seeing him as a young man who loved a wom in the way we normally think of a man loving a woman. It's probably a typo or a translative issue, but if not it's a tool that's been used well. I think, anyway. I am relieved that the young menwim and Spn Owlmoss have finall started to realize their potential. It honestly feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
So this story has become a bit more intense. The first few pages had some serious moments, but in trying to adjust to the language and societal structure, it was really entertaining and humorous. It was quite upsetting to read the rape scene, perhaps more so than if it were a typical rape. Wow, that's an odd phrase, "typical rape." Almost as if it's more proper and humane for a man to rape a woman. But I don't think that's the root of my feelings, I think it's that anatomically I identify a bit with the women and some small part of my mind was imaginin me as the villain, which is unusual. I think that sort of rape in that sort of setting might even be more detrimental to a boy, because it is viewed as intrusive, but since there was no penetration, it's probably a bit more accepted. Plus the mysogony, or shall I say, fysogony, of the society, Petronius's mother blamed menwim for being raped because they put themselves in the situation, or something along those lines. Of course, this infuriated me and just made me hate the wim in this book even more.
Gerd Brantenburg did a wonderful job in totally turning everything gender-related upside down. Even all words such as 'human' or 'everybody' are switched to 'huwim' and 'everywom.' I think this aspect of the text made it a bit more difficult to comprehend, but because of this it definitely promotes awareness of how sexist our society truly is. She uses some stereotypes and exaggerations to make a greater impact upon the reader. For example, the 'menwim' in the book are extremely fragile and primpy. There are also some very ditsy 'housebound' characters. There was so much loaded into the first sixty pages it is difficult to choose just one point to write about.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman confused me a bit at first with her short story, The Yellow Wallpaper. It was a first-person narrative immediately describing the 'psychiatric treatment' for a woman living in the late 19th century with a nervous mental illness. Her husband, a physician, prescribed lots of rest, no creative outlets (such as writing), and plenty of fresh air. Renting out a mansion in the country, the narrator becomes obsessed with the very old wallpaper in the nursery tower in which she and her husband stay.
One thing that struck me about The Yellow Wallpaper was that at the end, she decided that there was a woman trapped in the paper that was shaking things about. I think it symbolizes an image of the narrator herself. She might feel kind of trapped and stifled by the situation. Her husband doesn’t let her travel, or write, or do anything mildly stimulating, so the wallpaper is the most exciting thing in her life. She’s limited only to that. She’s “shaking things about” because she wants to break free. Then she goes on into this crazy episode where she thinks she sees the woman outside during the day. |
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). I'm liking where the story is going because i think the narrator needs something a little more to lift her up and stimulate her. Gail will probably do that. The narrator seems so broken and obsessed with the loss of Louise. The anatomy lesson was interesting. It was visceral and painful. It used to really depress me to think about human beings as simply tissue and organs. It's really weird, but insightful, how the narrator starts describing what she wants to do to 'know' Louise- bagging up her organs and labeling them and putting them back into her body.
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