Madame Brouette

I recently watched Madame Brouette, which is a joint project between Senegal and Quebec filmmakers.

Spoiler warning.

The summary was intriguing.  It described Mati as a “spunky street vendor … who defies the male-centered traditions of her culture with hopes of leading a dignified life.  Having escaped from a violent marriage, she dreams of rising above the world of abuse that surrounds her by opening a cafe.  Fate steps in when she meets and falls in love with Naago, a smooth-talking charmer who happens to be a crooked cop.  When the neighbourhood awakens to the sound of bullets and Naago is found dead, all fingers point to Mati.   Part detective story, part fable”

The director said in the notes that he made this film to discover why some women stay with abusive men for 35 years while others stay for 2 months.  His film had his own answers, but I think he would have learned more if he had talked to credible social workers, women’s shelters, or even some women in that situation.  I am sure he didn’t because his answers don’t stand up to reality.

His main answer to that question is that some women don’t find out their abusive partners are terrible people right away.  To demonstrate that, Mati didn’t discover her lover was cheating on her, extorting prostitutes, and willing to kill innocent children to make money right away. When she found out, she tried to break up with him.

The filmmaker did have other answers to the question.  Mati’s best friend was in an abusive relationship where she was regularly beaten by her husband.  Mati charges in, confronts the huge angry man, and walks away with her friend.  Her friend just needed a place to stay and couldn’t leave until Mati offered.  This friend then is mostly cheerful and supportive for the rest of the movie, regardless of the fact that her children are still at her abusive husband’s place.  Many women (and some men) stay in horrible domestic situations if their children can’t leave with them.  I couldn’t believe this scenario.

The other thing I found really disturbing was how men and women were portrayed in the movie.  Mati was delightful.  I liked her, I wanted to be more like her and have her around, but I could not relate to her.  She wasn’t flawed enough to be human.  If women were really like her, I could understand when many men say they can’t get women since I couldn’t get her.   But, women are not either angels or demons.  We’re all a mix of everything.   The only woman who seemed realistic was a prostitute, but I don’t think she was supposed to be seen as the most human.

The men were all portrayed as monsters – every single one, except for the 9? year old neighbour whom I still found disturbing.  I think the filmmaker could only justify women leaving male partners if the men were absolutely despicable.   Mati’s friend’s husband was always abusive and never once showed himself capable of caring for his children or even trying a honeymoon stage to get his wife back. Mati’s father was a stereotypical Muslim patriarch who took held tight to his male privilege in exchange for common sense and compassion.  The crooked cop was so revolting that he watched a gang of older men attempt to rape Mati’s 7? year old daughter when the daughter came to inform Naago that Mati was giving birth to his child.

The neighbour boy, who rescues the daughter from the attempted rape, is the one male who isn’t shown as brutal and dishonest.  He claims he loves the daughter and it doesn’t matter if the daughter loves him back.  He will spend his life taking care of her anyways.  This frightened me.  That a 9 year old might think that he can pick a girl to devote his life to whether she wants it or not isn’t so big a concern.  That a film director would think this is the solution for battered women shows that he does not understand domestic violence at all.  A man who refuses to listen to a woman and does not care if she wants his attention or affection has already began the steps down into domestic violence.

I would have stopped watching the film if they didn’t have a musical group that showed up singing about partridges for most scene changes.  They were fantastic and did contain men who didn’t hurt anyone so I take back my previous comment.

And the murderer wasn’t a big surprise although the ending was.  It shouldn’t have been, since the song about the partridges actually did have something to do with the movie after all.

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See, girls ARE different

The first time I met the woman who babysits my kids our conversation went like this:

She: Girls and boys are ssoooo different.

Me: What do you mean?

She: Well, boys say “abracadabra” and girls say “bibbity boppity boo”

Me: ?

The only explanation I could think of for this particular ‘gender’ difference was the the mother of allowed her older boys to watch action and magic movies, while her baby girl spent hours watching Cinderella.

At first I didn’t think much of this, but every conversation seemed to have some comment of how boys and girls or men and women were sooo different.  Was I just too sensitive?  Or was she doing this on purpose?

Most times I didn’t actually say anything.   I often get annoyed when people have 2 children and attribute every single difference between the two to gender.  One grandmother told me that all boys just liked to read, while girls were good at sports.  Her children were that way, and her grandchildren were that way, therefore everyone was like that.  At least she wasn’t saying anything too harmful that her kids would carry with them forever.

However, when I hear statements that put down nearly half of the human population, I often feel compelled to speak up.

The babysitter has made a few comments on how men are not good at certain things.  Well, maybe her husband and sons aren’t good at _____, but my husband often is.  In many cases, he is better at them than I.  Or one of my brothers is.  If you haven’t had the pleasure of eating my baby brother’s gourmet meals, you really have missed out.

Sometimes the babysitter will make a comment about girls that I don’t relate to at all.  I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve painted my toenails.   I don’t wake up early to put on make-up.  I don’t usually wear make-up.  I hate shopping, decorating, and housecleaning.  I can’t multi-task.  I don’t think I’m any less of a woman.

I still wasn’t sure if these comments were on purpose to try and teach me something, or if that was just how she talked.  Now I suspect the former.

We were outside with my kids, her kids and her nephew.  She told me that her preschool attending nephew was only 6 weeks younger than my kindergartener Lil’T.

I looked at the two of them.  My Lil’T was a good 6 inches taller than this little boy, and she is not particularly tall.

Me: Really, only 6 weeks?  (comparing their heights in my head)

She: See, girls really are different from boys (a look of triumph over her face)

As we were running to catch a bus, I did not mention that what surprised me most was the height difference.  I assume she was talking about the difference in school placement.  However, her little girl is a year older than mine and they are in the same class, so that doesn’t even make sense.

I’ve never said that there is no difference between male and female.  I have gotten upset when differences were manufactured or caricatured to make someone look bad.

I’m not sure what bugs me more, that she thinks we have such huge differences that we can’t even share a silly magic word, or that I think she thinks she won this last ‘debate’.

Next time I hear another “well, you know how men are…” or “girls are sooo much different” I am tempted to respond with:

You know, it really bothers me when you constantly bring up differences between boys and girls.  I am not saying that there are not differences, but often it is in a context where I feel like one or the other is being put down or too rigidly defined.  It especially bothers me because our children are listening and learning how to relate to each other from us.  I think we can be more respectful and open.

I’ll never do it.

 

Redeeming Pink

I do not like pink.  Ever since my pink overalls that I would pretend to be one of the three little pigs in grew too small, I’ve hated wearing the colour.

I have deep prejudices against it.

Soft pastel pinks mean: weakness, don’t take seriously, stupidity, wishy-washy, and vacancy

Hot pinks (I am a child of the 80s) scream: vanity, shallowness, egoism, using people

Really, it is just a colour, but my associations are strong.  I saw pink as a colour which would restrict me and take away people’s ability to see me as a capable person.  I didn’t want to be patted on the head and not listened to.

Lil’T doesn’t see pink as a restriction, but as a privilege.  Partly this is due to clever advertising and selling two sets of everything to the same parents. 

Partly it is a reflection on changing values of society.  In most cultures, people are sad if they have a girl instead of a boy.  It is embedded in their language as the  Chinese ‘great happiness’ is code for a boy versus the ‘small happiness’ of a girl child. 

However, in our country, most mothers disappointed over the sex of their child wanted a girl. 

It is now ok to celebrate pink without shame. 

Lil’T loves pink because she thinks it is pretty.  She is pretty, so she should wear pretty colours and look even more fabulous. 

I never had that joy in being a girly girl.  I never thought I was a fairy princess, fabulous and just waiting for my wings. 

Part of me is so glad that my girls are able to have that.  Part of me is jealous, and part of me is disgusted, probably because of my learned prejudices.   Mostly I’m glad.

Lil’T loves pink, but she is now willing to share it.  She has conceded that boys are allowed to wear nice colours too and is ok with having the same favourite colour as her youngest uncles.

Pink.  Maybe some day I won’t shudder at it and see it as just beautiful.  Maybe some day, Lil’T will be able to other colours as equally beautiful.

Crystal vases and tin mugs

A while ago we were visiting friends who pastor a rural church.  We sat in on the adult Sunday School class which was having a lively discussion over whether women could teach and minister. This was ironic since the Sunday school teacher was in fact a woman.

This experienced woman had been feeling undermined and asked the young pastor half her age to teach instead.  He wisely refused and supported her instead.

Her arguments for women teaching and ministering in roles other than janitor were well presented.  She remained within the bible and used the bible to refute other interpretations of the bible.

Everyone there seemed quite satisfied with her lesson except one old man who didn’t read anything but the bible and considered himself the patriarch of the community.  That was to be expected and at least he was respectful.

The only other person who disagreed was a young mom.  She was in her 30s, had 6 children, and ran the mixed farm while her husband drove truck.  She also was in charge of dropping off eggs and other farm produce to regular customers.  While watching her children; the youngest at the time was not a year.   She was an accomplished musician and that Sunday she played the music for the church while her two eldest accompanied on violin and voice.  For some reason I think she also homeschooled, but it could just have been that she taught music at her home.

She was terrified of women being anything but a silent support.  I didn’t quite understand this coming from her.  She seemed so capable.

“We can’t just let women have leadership roles,” she quietly murmured after everyone else had spoken.  ”What if something bad happens?  What if there is a spiritual attack?  Women are like crystal vases, as Paul says.  Weaker vessels.  Men are like tin mugs.  We need them around to protect us in case boiling water falls!  I just don’t like it, giving women those roles.”

This woman was around 6 feet tall.  Taller than her husband.  Stronger than most of the men in the room.  She was terrified of herself.  Afraid her strength would some how be damaging, when it was clear to everyone in the community that her strength was life-giving.  It was apparent not only in the words she used, but how she tried to hide herself and shyly looked down at the ground.

This is a common fear.  If women are strong, then men will run away and something terrible will happen.  Women are strong enough to destroy men but not strong enough to protect anyone.

Bullshit. I got the impression that she was more scared of herself than she was appreciative of her husband.  Her husband gave no impression of being intimidated by her capabilities.  He looked proud to stand next to her.

I know I’ve talked about this before, but I still find myself trapped in that fear that my strength is not only insufficient, but destructive.  Today I was struggling with fear about painting with bold colours.  With sharing bold words.  With speaking truth in humour.  I wanted to hide, feeling myself a fragile crystal vase about to crack and injure someone with splinters.  Lies.

Neither am I a tin cup, impervious to boiling water or caustic dumps.  I am in between – a clay mug.  Stronger than I think, but still permeable.  Beautiful.  Capable.  Really?

Devoted

We’ve had a few visitors in the past while, including a dear high school friend who has kids about the same age as my own.

It was nice to discover that we still have enough in common to enjoy a visit without god at the centre of it.  Although, I did remain quiet several times.  I think I’m learning social skills!

Like the time that she proudly shared her husband’s explanation for a little boy not wanting to share pushing a stroller with her little girl.

Apparently boys don’t like to be helped.  (It sounded like a sharing issue to me, but I guess it was about accepting help.)  If you want to help a boy, you need to be sneaky about it.

Her conclusion: better that the three year old learn that now, because that is how men are.

That made me so sad.  What does that teach her about the relationship between people of different genders?  Honesty isn’t acceptable?  Sharing and helping have to be sneaky.  Protect the distorted self-image of an insecure guy at any personal cost?

Rant done.  Wish I had had a good come-back for that one.

At bedtime my friend called all the kids over and read them a little devotional.  It was about how we need to think about god all the time.  Then she asked the girls to pray.

Her little girl adorably warbled “Thank-you for the food Amen”

Lil’T said, “I love you and I’ll never forget you.”

My friend was charmed.  I don’t know who Lil’T was talking to.  She seems to have forgotten.

There was nothing overly alarming about that particular devotion and I skimmed through the book after.  Some of the stories were really good, some not so much.

In the end this was harmless, but I was still not prepared.  And I’ll need to be if we are thinking to leave the kids for a week or so at the grandparents sometime.  I guess I can’t protect them from everything, I’m just worried that Christian friends and family will work double time to expose our children to the harmful parts of Christianity once they find out we won’t.

Life without Virgin/Whore

After reading this post http://veronicamonet.wordpress.com/2011/03/15/powerful-women/

I was thinking about how our personalities are shaped more by how we relate to others and their perceived expectations than what we really like or not.

My mom told me that some study proved that girls liked pink and that was why pink was a universal girl colour.  Since I’ve spent time in rural India where men wore pink and women wore red, I knew that was a ridiculous statement.

I have also observed my own daughter who preferred orange up to age 2.  Then she switched over to pink, purple, Barbies and princesses.  Just at the time when pop culture began to infiltrate her consciousness.  Nothing wrong with liking pink, but don’t try and say it is biologically inherent and exclusive to a double X chromosome (so one can justify telling you that you need to buy your little girl a new bike and not let her use her brother’s old one).

Instead of finding out that more females like pink, what that study found is that the majority of females will try to meet expectations.  People conform.  We are social animals and it builds group cohesion.  One major expectation that most women try to meet or react to is which type of femininity they will pursue: the ‘good’ or the ‘bad’.

Veronica brilliantly discusses this divide in types of femininity that our society allows.  We have the a-sexual virgin infantilized “nice” lady and the sex hungry bitchy “bad” woman.  Interestingly, we have told ourselves that nice ladies make the best mothers, not the sirens.  Penelope wasn’t sexually satisfied when Odysseus was away and that was supposed to make her a better mom. B.S.

When I’m not sexually active, I am cranky.  Cranky women are not the best mothers. I haven’t seen any studies, but I think this may be the case for more people than myself.

If our society changed our script of femininities, how would that change what most women look like?  If I had grown up in a society that assumed sexually confident women were the best wives, mothers, and citizens – would more women (and men) be encouraging sex instead of treating it like the great evil?

Perhaps a friend who cannot even say the word “stimulate” (no joke, I was talking about about external stimuli and she turned red and admitted that she couldn’t say that word) would be able to talk about sex.

Perhaps the best mother’s day gift wouldn’t be a new vacuum but a new vibrator.

Perhaps all those people who really are asexual or have low libidos wouldn’t be sought after as idealized marriage material.  Maybe they could be more free to not have sex on a regular basis.

Could it be that if the one who could give and receive good sex was the moral one, that slut-shaming would disappear?  That a new morality based on ethics and principles instead of fear based regulation would be mainstream?

In religious circles, all those women who are shamed at their sexual desires could be proud of them.  And the men wouldn’t have mixed messages about what it is to love a woman either!  Our boys were told that if they loved a girl they would not be sexually active or think about wanting to and anything more was lust and bad.  No wonder some early Christian men castrated themselves.

Could there be classes in high school about exploring your sexuality- sexual ethics?  Not graded of course, but a home study module where the kids could learn so many things.   On their own.  Can anyone really learn the art of a good blow job from standard porn?

How would this effect rape culture if sexually active women weren’t punished or told they ‘asked for it’ but were instead viewed as valued citizens?

Would prostitutes be seen as priestesses again?  Or be seen as fully human?

Update

Visited mom in the hospital.  She is doing really well!  She might be home on the weekend.

It has been really nice to see family.  S-i-l just had a baby and has so much energy.  I can’t relate, but they are fun to be around!

Without Christian podcasts blaring from the computer, I assumed this visit would have less dogmatic confrontation than previous visits.  My mom and littlest brother are the ones who love to argue and preach (besides me of course) while everyone else prefers non-confrontational avoidance when differences arise.

The first 3 books we came to out in the living room for all to see, were on ‘Christian’ gender roles.  Including the stereotype that real men only think about sex and that real women couldn’t care less about it but only want deep talks and cuddles.  ?

The computer’s homepage pulled up an article discussing how masculinity is shown in media.  Which would be interesting as a topic, except that this article’s view was that anything that didn’t show a benevolent macho dictator was distorting god-given masculinity.

The bible study I picked up by the night table claimed that most women really wanted to submit to a godly male and that it really was possible for these same women to share their opinions without usurping authority.  I’m sorry.  If a man feels his autonomy and purpose in life is threatened by a woman having and sharing an opinion, he has no right to any sort of ethical leadership.

I believe in freedom of speech, but part of me would like to move such restrictive harmful ideas into another place somewhat less visible.  Like the garbage can.

Nice lady

As I grew up, the people I most admired were nothing like me.  They were loud, outgoing, funny and got things done.

I felt like I should have a mentor, a role model, to pattern my life after.  Since I was often compared to one of my aunts, I thought I should try and be like her.

(In fact, her husband angrily warned my then-fiancee not to marry me because he thought we would have the same marriage as they did, since I was supposedly so much like my aunt.)

I love my aunt, but I do not want her life.

She is sweet. 

And for her, sweetness is something she aspires to – it is more than her personality, it is her ambition.  Her natural compassion was warped by lies which told her what a “nice Christian girl” is: someone who puts others first, turns the other cheek, gives to those who steal from her.

She has been taken advantage of, emotionally and spiritually abused, and mentally broken down.  Thankfully, my aunt is made of more than sugar.  She is strong, she has grit, and she is very smart and resourceful.  She just doesn’t often show it.  It doesn’t fit her idea of herself as the nurturer.

I found an old journal I kept around the time I got married.  My life plans had completely changed.  The church was clear that I needed a role model to be a married woman and I wrote about how I should try and be like her.  I tried to be happy at home with small children.  I tried to be busy with volunteering and told myself that, like my aunt, I’d find something I could do from home later on. 

And, like my aunt, I got suicidal. 

Luckily, my husband didn’t encourage the Christian caricature of a nice lady.  He didn’t want a shell of a person who always smiled in public and cried in private, always served, and denied any desires and needs of her own. 

I still look for examples of people who I’d like to be like and loving that I don’t have to find them in the bible or the church.  I’m learning that the ideal woman is not the sanitized Mary who was obedient, submissive, and asexual. 

I don’t want to be a nice lady, patted on the head for being taken advantage of.   To get there I have to stop being afraid of being a bitch. 

Maybe my parents should have let me watch Roseanne.

Only One Adult?

If we are unlucky enough to have read or heard about Onan, we have no doubt tried to explain it.  Why would god kill a man for ejaculating on the ground? 

My favourite explanation is that, since he was doing it to prevent a pregnancy and losing the ‘right’ to rape his sister-in-law, god was telling people he doesn’t like rape. 

Others prefer the  <a href=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMx6X26iJ_c“>Every Sperm is Sacred</a> theory.  This has been used to ban male masturbation and birth control.  Two things our world cannot do without.

Of course, the one that makes most sense with the text and cultural context is that Onan wanted his ‘real’ offspring to inherit the family possessions thereby passing on his name and not his brother’s.

The weirdest explanation I heard was in a church sermon.  Apparently, the main issue wasn’t what Onan did or didn’t do, but on what his parents did/didn’t do.  The older brother, Er, was named.  It doesn’t say by whom.  The next two, Onan and Shelah, were named by their mother.

That was the root of sin.  The mother named them.  Which led to god being angry at them, supposedly for the problems created by the mother having too much authority and the father too little.

This makes no sense from the text since Er and Onan were killed, but not Shelah. 

This fact didn’t matter to the one preaching.  He then went on to berate the women for taking too much authority in the home and preventing the fathers from taking their lawful headship.  He called for the men to tuck in their little ones with prayers of protection, since they would be so much more powerful coming from the man.  Yes, he said that.

I felt sick and enraged.  There were single moms in the congregation who had fled abusive men in order to protect their children.  They were being told that their protectiveness not only wasn’t as effective as a man’s, but was dangerous and harmful.

I doubt the man preaching had ever tucked his kids into bed, let alone changed a diaper or talked to their teacher or bully.  Yet, he was authoritatively saying the problem with kids was that the mothers were too protective.

I marched up as soon as he finished and told the congregation that we needed Mamma Bears.  I told a story of when I needed to stand up for my baby and put others’ feelings ahead of my wee one’s safety.  It was the closest to contradicting an elder in the church I had ever done before.

Afterwards, one of the single mammas whispered “thank-you” to me as she slipped quietly away.  The preacher thanked me for “adding balance”.

Unfortunately, this bizarre dichotomy of women must decrease so that men may increase isn’t limited to church.  Neither is merely a relic of the past where Annie from Annie Get Your Gun is told that she should deliberately lose a shooting match so she can win her opponent’s heart.

There is a growing concern that women becoming competent adults is the reason more men are staying in perpetual adolescence.  I’ve heard this from Al Mohler’s crowd and Boundless webzine.  No surprise that they think a man can only be an adult if he has a needy infantile wife to take care of who in return, takes care of his every mundane need.

What does surprise me is the growing secular crowd preaching this same ‘only one adult at a time’ lie.  Various radio programs have featured concern over greater numbers of males living with parents and playing video games while their female peers are volunteering and buying houses on their own. 

One woman interviewed wrote a book about how women being responsible is the cause of men acting like teenagers.  

I’m not buying it.

I have more respect for men’s intelligence and competency than that.  Men can be capable fathers without their wive’s permission or submission.  Men are fully able to make adult decisions, get jobs and do good in their community without a stay-at-home wife relying on him to pay the bills.  Men are not irrelevant when women are allowed to support themselves.

The dance of over and underfunctioning does exist, but it is no one person or gender’s fault nor is it the ideal.  We don’t need to define ourselves by the perceived weakness of someone else.

I believe there is room for more than one adult at a time.