Fun facts about me: My mom’s whole family is Catholic going back centuries. It’s part of our family legacy – the Veteri Ponte (shortened to Vipond) were Catholic barons in England, and depending on who was ruling and whether they were Anglicans or Protestants, we had our land granted and taken away over and over. One of my ancestors was Queen Elizabeth I’s handmaid, and apparently she was mouthy (now you know where I get it from).
Which is all to say, Catholicism is part of my identity. I was loosely raised in the Catholic church. I stopped short of getting confirmed because I didn’t want to make a promise to a god if I didn’t know that I believed in it. Later in adulthood, when I was attending a Jesuit university, I started inching further back toward it. I took classes on Catholic history and on sacramentalism, I started reading the Bible more, I grew an affinity for Graham Greene. One of my favorite novels is still The Power and the Glory, in no small part for this very twentieth-century Catholic point of view, which I still think is a beautiful way of framing Christ:
“Man was so limited: he hadn’t even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater the glory lay around the death; it was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or civilization–it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt.”
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When I was 13, my 7th grade science class was assigned to dissect a fetal pig. This made me massively uncomfortable. My teacher told us that we could opt out of doing the dissection and use approved online resources for the project instead if we wrote a convincing essay as to why we didn’t want to do it. I wrote about the fact that human fetuses are used for scientific research, but only with the parents’ consent, and you couldn’t obtain consent from a pig; and besides, we weren’t talking about important scientific research, we were talking about a classroom of seventh-graders (read: little barbarians) who had other resources with which to learn the lesson.
I was able to do the online project. The next philosophical step, in my thirteen-year-old mind, was to say that if I was going to give an animal the same dignity as a human being in this respect, I had to apply it in terms of my food, too. So I stopped eating meat on the basis that I didn’t want anything to die in order for me to live.
That lasted seven years.
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Remember school dress codes? Did they ever give you a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as a teenager, or did they stay comfortably off your radar? Peggy Orenstein’s opinion piece on the subject in The New York Times brings up some of the more troubling questions about what the real purpose of those rules is –do they protect kids or just perpetuate body shame?
Orenstein insists that:
Telling girls to “cover up” just as puberty hits teaches them that their bodies are inappropriate, dangerous, violable, subject to constant scrutiny and judgment, including by the adults they trust. Nor does it help them understand the culture’s role in their wardrobe choices.
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President Obama issued a proclamation at the end of May stating that June is officially Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month, but June has unofficially been Pride Month for the LGBT community for decades. We place it in June, and our pride parades at the end of June, to mark the anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion. This year will be 45 years.
The fact that our President is so markedly in support of LGBT rights is historic, but what really makes it remarkable to me is that he and his administration have been vocal lately about transgender rights. Sex reassignment surgery can now be covered on Medicare. Chuck Hagel is now “open” to reconsidering the military’s ban on transgender service members. This is all part of a very fast, sweeping change in our culture’s conversation about transgender people, marked just since the beginning of this month, for example, by Laverne Cox’s appearance on the cover of TIME and a viral video telling the story of a family raising a transgender child. Keep reading »
The absolute dumbest argument I’ve heard in response to Elliot Rodger’s killing spree last weekend was this: Rodger killed more men than women, so this had nothing to do with misogyny (subtext: So shut your feminist pie-hole).
It takes a lot of logical leaps to make that conclusion when you look at the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, not least of all the fact that Rodger himself explicitly stated that he hated women, that his purpose was to kill as many women as he could, that he felt that women were less than human, that his motivation was that he felt spurned by women. To wit, from Rodger himself: “I don’t know why you girls aren’t attracted to me, but I will punish you all for it.”
It’s not important what the numbers are, to me. The ratio of men to women killed or injured is largely circumstantial, and they don’t mean anything anyway, because — despite what a fair number of people apparently believe — misogynists hate men, too. Keep reading »
Maybe I’m just a sourpuss, but I’m having a really hard time appreciating the new “Feminist Frank” meme, just like I had a hard time appreciating the “Feminist Ryan Gosling” meme. I guess it boils down to this for me: It’s a lot easier to say the right things and look like a feminist than it is to actually do the right things and be a feminist. Keep reading »