Simple and to the Point

or to take a turn towards another interesting discourse...

Please Excuse for Having a Penis: Taking a Back Seat to Privilege and Power

Although I have been traveling recently, I am still proud to be a part of the Feminism and Religion Project and happy that I can continue to contribute to the ongoing discussion that takes place on online communities.

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I have often struggled with that little voice, call it my conscience if you will, that speaks to me during times of distress.  Although I consider myself a proud feminist, I still struggle with aspects of what I call, internalized misogyny, or more aptly defined as a male born characteristic trait that imparts the idea that men are not only dominant but also more powerful than the other 50% of the species.

For many reasons, I believe religion is one of the main culprits of this growing evil, one that we all witnessed throughout this last election cycle.  However, instead of placing blame solely on religion and images of the male Godhead we have to begin deconstructing the sociological consequences these subconscious social, sexual, religious, and gendered norms have on men but more importantly men who identify as feminists.

I believe that male feminists often deal with multiple binds that force them to recognize and then re-acknowledge their innate power and privilege.  Whether a male feminist identifies as straight, gay, queer, or trans, male feminists, in an abstract way, must combat social and religious images that define their power and privilege for them before they are even given a choice.

I was recently on a panel at the National Women’s Studies Association’s annual conference in Oakland, CA that discussed the issue of having a Men’s Caucus at the annual convention.  Officially becoming a caucus provides the group with an official vote on the board and a possible say with the future direction of the NWSA Conference.  Staged against Robert Jensen, who argued against the formation of such a caucus, I took on the position of the need for such a body to exist, to reexamine the growing field of masculinity studies as well as the growing number of men or male identified individuals who have been coming to the conference in recent years.

As more men become involved in women’s studies and more women start taking an interest in the growing field of masculinity studies, men and women alike have to start examining the reasons why men in feminism is both beneficial to the field as well as being useful in changing the ways in which men, women, boys and girls all interact with each other and construct their individual social, sexual, and religious identities.

However, as many scholars and activists have point out, while men continue to engage in feminist discourse, we still have to remind ourselves, on a daily basis at times, that even though we may be a minority within the safe space of the NWSA Conference, the moment we step outside the doors of the conference hotel, we are no longer the minority but again the majority.  Male feminists must take a back seat to the inherited privilege and power that is given to us within social and religious circles and remind ourselves each day why we chose to become feminists and more importantly why we continue to fight against our internalized misogyny that silently whispers to us that “we deserved” whatever position or opportunity we were passed over for simply because we have a penis.

Male feminists must be aware that we not only engage in an ongoing struggle against sexual and gender inequality, but more importantly an ongoing fight with ourselves.

Previously discussed at the Gender, Society, and Change Conference at Claremont Graduate University where myself and other scholars discussed "masculinities," sometimes, always raising our hand in class may not be the best option and sometimes always speaking our mind does more harm then good, but in the end, the fight continues and it is within the space of the fight that we begin to not only occupy and navigate through the delicate area of power and privilege but also into a new world where men and women no longer have to take the metaphorical back seat but can operate and function in a world together, equally.

(This post would not have been possible without the support of two dedicated scholars and activists, Brian Jara and Tal Peretz (the moderator for the panel mentioned above) who proposed the idea for the panel and have, like myself, been at the forefront of the issues surrounding men in feminism.  I am grateful to their dedication and honored they asked me to serve on the panel alongside Robert Jensen)  

Visions of My Grandmother

Writing has been very hard lately.  With classes, teaching, and working in West Hollywood, I often find myself wanting to lay on the couch more than read a book or write a blog post.  However, I am continually honored to be a part of the Feminism and Religion Project and I hope you enjoy my post this month.

xoxo

John

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I haven’t dreamt of my grandmother since her passing one hot summer July evening.

The night, and the days that followed, continue to be a blur.  However, as my family members continue to see her in their nightly visions, I, go on unabatedly longing to see and hear the voice of a woman who made me feel the presence of the divine with each passing story. 

My sister saw her in a dream when she was buying shoes, my mother has seen her multiple times when she would be undergoing a particularly stressful situation, and I, left alone and oftentimes wondering through an abyss of loneliness and disarray, wake up each morning wondering why, I am left all alone.

We often question the divine, his/her intentions, and specifically whether or not we will ever see resemblances of those long gone in our daily lives, but I’m here to ask and ponder whether or not my inability to see my grandmother has to do with the fact that she was the one person I was not honest to during her lifetime.    

I never told my grandmother I was gay.  I’ve often wanted to visit her grave, clench my hands together, and pray that she forgive me for betraying the trust she instilled upon me long ago.  However, even today, I cannot bring myself to make that trek, up the hill into the countryside where her ashes lay below the ground.

Yes, my grandmother would meet the boys I was dating and yes, I would talk about my life in a way that it would be obvious to anyone else that I was gay, but I never uttered the words, “Gladys, I’m gay” to her.  I could handle rejection from my parents, I could face the dismissal from certain family members, but her rejection, the rejection of my hero and best friend, was one thing I was not willing to face.

The only time she ever entered into my dreams was a year ago when I found myself entering her house and seeing her sitting in her chair with its back turned towards me.  I called her name, I kept questioning whether or not she had heard me (she was always hard of hearing), and the more I called out her name the more she just sat there, in her chair, silent, and unable to  turn around and look at me.  

How does one who doesn’t really believe in the divine pray?  How do we manage the complex emotions that we feel when loss and heartache overcome our power in faith?   More importantly, who, when we are unable to deal with the guilt and pain we have inside, do we agnostics pray to? 

I’ve never really pray, but when I do I pray to my grandmother.  I do not pray to a God or Goddess that I do not know exists or not, but rather an entity who I hope still watches over me. 

However, like with many of the prayers that we cast into the unknown, I too find myself on the same boat, hoping that one day, my divine grandmother will forgive me of my sins and welcome me back into her loving arms.

I look forward to finally walking into her house in my dreams and seeing her warm smile greet me at the door but until then, I’ll continue to sit here and pray.