C.I.T.O.K.A.T.E.

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" is reviled in some circles for being about date rape. If you're interested, I would like to explain why this interpretation is perfectly reasonable depending on what lens you look through, and at the end, discuss something I learned about lenses.

To start with, let's face it. Mid-twentieth century America was not a sterling example of sexual equality. But they were too wholesome to accept a song about a woman being roofied and date-raped. Times really have to change for this interpretation to emerge. For purposes of illustration, I will construct an amalgam from actual blog posts I've read, and call this person Christmas Carol.

Carol grew up around no one but sexists. They considered it only to be expected when a man pressured a woman for sex. If he wouldn't stop turning up the pressure until he got it, they considered this an understandable and forgivable offense. Later, in Carol's early adult life, she and every woman she knew filled their lives almost entirely with men who thought that way. Those men abused every substance imaginable and tended to be in and out of jail a lot. Her life was in constant danger. At some point in adult life she decided she neither deserved this treatment nor had to endure it, and escaped.

After she got used to life without constant threats, Carol had a revelation that she was not the only person who considered her personal boundaries normal and acceptable. It no longer felt like Carol vs. the world-- a world of harrassment, molestation, and excuses for it. That was only the world she grew up in. There are other, better people. At that point, Carol became a little less angry.

So if this is the case, Carol wondered why we wrote, and sung, and listened to (much less enjoyed), a song in which a cornered Doris Day tried to escape from a pushy and demanding Bing Crosby who spiked her drink and is likely to impregnate her, thereby ruining her life. Unfortunately, people from warm and happy places thought every place was warm and happy. They had no clue why Carol was hating on a cute little Christmas song in which Doris Day tried to come up with excuses to do what she wanted to do (instead of what a sexist society told her she ought to do), and Bing Crosby passively provided those excuses. Carol became a little more angry again.

So in these blog posts, Carol did some consciousness-raising. She explained to the rest of us that there exist entire invisible subcultures, right here in our wholesome suburbs, which enculturate men and women to tolerate sexual entitlement. You don't know because you don't see their home lives. I won't go into the harrowing details of Carol's biography, because I just ate. Suffice it to say that people with that upbringing have given me a new perspective every time I encounter a woman I don't know. I try not to stand between her and a door. Because I'm a man, she might be scanning for escape routes.

This week, a lawyer who works with a domestic abuse charity told me the highest rate of domestic violence around here is Oakland County. Pretty, idyllic, prosperous Oakland. I look in the mirror, and it's difficult for me to imagine anyone feeling threatened by me. Then again, it's difficult for me to imagine feeling threatened by Oakland County. I never thought I would be OK with the idea that someone can go ahead and think something horrible about me that I don't deserve. But you know what? I'll be fine.

The people inside rape culture and the people outside it mostly don't know the other culture exists until they're told about it. The way their world works seems like the way the whole world works.

Imagine something you think everyone knows. There are probably entire communities walking around on this planet, not only unaware of that obvious thing, but not even aware that anyone in the world thinks otherwise. The first time they are exposed to disagreement on that topic, they will react with incredulity. Not incredulity that they were wrong. Incredulity that you believe the obvious thing. Even hostility, depending on how much they cherish their misconception. For that matter, you might react that way in return.

I can tell you from personal experience that consciousness-raising is more difficult to do graciously when you think the entire world sings songs to celebrate what happened to you. Mistreatment by an isolated jackass: this, you can roll your eyes at. When you feel like the isolated one, the isolation itself brings on a whole new level of rage. This is why I try not to listen to Christian radio. The holiday season is a bit harder, because it's pretty much every channel, but it gets easier every year.

I'm not equating the seriousness of my own grievances with someone else's. I'm saying many examples like "Baby It's Cold Outside" have opened my eyes to how a person's background colors their interpretations. That includes me and my background. It also illustrated to me that when someone blows something out of proportion, there are constructive ways I can react.

I came from an incredibly insular self-validating subculture. The thing about fundamentalism is that it doesn't just fall into this human failing; it calls it faith. It admits it, celebrates it, promotes it, and criticizes you for not doing it. Since I don't want to fall out of the frying pan and into the fire, these days I'm constantly checking my own social environment for the insularity and self-validation inherent to human groups. It's as if I'm scanning the room for an escape route.

Of course, we all fall prey to this weakness. Once you oppose something, you might think you're not vulnerable to it any more, but that just makes you more vulnerable. Basic drives like sex and groupthink need to be channeled and managed in a healthy way. Groupthink scandals are embarrassingly common in the secular community, the same way sex scandals are embarrassingly common to Christians. In fact, the analogy is perfect. Religious devotees embrace groupthink the way secularists embrace safe and responsible sex. Fundamentalists embrace groupthink the way thugs embrace gangbangs. I meet religious moderates who sincerely have no idea how bad it gets, much less how prevalent it is. Our experiences will color how we overestimate or underestimate threats and put-downs when we hear expressions of religious sentiment.

Enjoy the Christmas music!

From this link. Go read it! It's hilarious. I am reminded of cosette_valjean and I -- except, of course, that she and I get along well and take a sincere interest in each other's interests. This is the story of what might have happened had we met a decade earlier than we did.

Received from an English Professor:

This assignment was actually turned in by two of my English students:
Rebecca (last name deleted) and Gary (last name deleted)
English 44A, SMU, Creative Writing
Professor Miller

In-class assignment for Wednesday:

Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to reread what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached.

Continue...

I bought the autobiographical graphic novel Blankets by Craig Thompson after a discussion on the PCCboard forum. At 592 pages it's the longest graphic novel published in the U.S. I enjoyed it! If anybody wants to borrow it let me know. Pastor Garry (who some of you may know from his comments to this livejournal) is an occasional reader of comic books (and one of the closet Fen in my opinion) so he had read it. Or, skimmed it perhaps. He thought the author was saying "Christianity is bad 'cuz it wouldn't let me sleep with my girlfriend."

I was pleased that it's not at all what the Reverend suggests. The book is not about religion, it's about obsessive infatuation, represented by the blanket of snow that covers the land. This symbolizes the way it seems to the protagonist like the world is all of one piece -- as if it is all about one thing over which he obsesses, like so many teens do. The book chronicles his experiences of growing out of his two main interests, a girl and a religion.

He does not leave his religion because of the bible telling him he can't have sex. On the contrary, that conflict resolves itself with religiosity stronger than ever: at that point you can see how his two obsessions are starting to become one and the same thing in his psychology, as his sex drive seems to him like a sanctified act of worship for god's creation. His break with religion is not sudden and doesn't take place in a crisis of bad events. His relationship with the girl has been long ago resolved by that time. As the snow melts and reveals the world to be composed of many interesting and worthy things that no longer revolve around the girl, he begins to see how she was not as all-important as he had thought. So then he realizes (through visual metaphor, without the book having to state it in words) that the same is true of his religion. People just don't see the flaws in that which they are infatuated with, and they continue not to see it when it's pointed out. But one day the protagonist seems to come to the end of his teenage years and enter a calm, un-infatuated condition. So after this, there only need to be a few pages of critique for his actual doctrines. This part of the story briefly critiquing Christianity is part of the denoument rather than the climax of the book, because to the protagonist, it's no longer important.