The extinction of the white male hegemony...or not really

I have noticed that being white and (more importantly being a white) male have become the object of the 'bashing' of the more left-leaning social sciences. Not only that but websites like Stuff White Like, and People at Walmart seem to clearly ridicule through humour the spectrum of what is perceived as being white: WASP-yuppie-white trash, among others. These representations seem to make clear that it's (apparently white people are not all that perfect and do not always adhere to their so called American Dream) ok and even accepted to criticize and make fun (in popular culture and in academia) of these images with very little retribution; ignore the conservative republicans giving me the evil eye right now. Is it that ok to denounce the hegemonic representations of whiteness in our society? Is denouncing the alternative representations of minorities (in both positive/negative ways) not the same (and possibly be perceived as favoring or discriminating against them)? Is this another truth to the hegemony of this whiteness?

In Men Behaving Badly: Mediocre Masculinity and The Man Show, I read how the white male hegemony reifies itself by rejecting alternative masculinities and femininities by representing their fear towards them in xenophobic and misogynistic ways. The wife is seen as a nuisance, and more like an instrument to reproduce further masculine ideologies. White privilege dominates the sphere by disempowering the images of the black matriarch, the lesbian, the dwarfs (little people) and the "intellectuals" through humour. The fear of the dominant hegemony in being overtaken by some of these subservient minorities, threaten the fabric of current society. These fears are normally expressed in private, are now expressed though humorist catharsis in shows like these. The article fairly concludes that the straight white male is having difficulty navigating through a multicultural contemporary society and that he looks for support in places like The Man Show.

To what extent then an alternative show like The Chapelle Show subverses any ideology presented in The Man Show? Very little (or so I think) as it only replaces the stereotypical white male with an equally stereotypical black guy. Equally opinionated about his hegemonic masculinity, homophobic, misogynistic, etc. Is this a place where black men come for support in their struggle against the dominant ideology? Do Latinos do the same with Mind of Mencia? Gays with Queer as Folk? Lesbians with the L Word? and so on...

"Television is a metaphor for living, a statement of human condition" (Hoppenstand as quoted by  Palmer-Mehta, 2009); if this is so where are the tv shows in which I can find support in my counter hegemonic enterprise with my many parallel (and sometimes competing) identities?

I'll stick with my sci-fi books. I think they suffice for the moment.

References:
PALMER-MEHTA, VALERIE (2009) Men Behaving Badly: Mediocre Masculinity and The Man Show. The Journal of Popular Culture. Volume 42 Issue 6, Pages 1053 - 1072

The desire to not write...[or writin skillz]

Ironically I do not have any desire to write today, but bear with me because this blog is my experiment to try and force me to sit down and write, write, write. As such, instead of being nonsensical about it, I will try to uncover this need for writing.

As grad students in the social sciences, we are basically reading and writing all the time, with little to no feedback on our writing skills. It is expected that we know the subtle and obscure science of academic, grant and public writing in the same way that Habitus imbues us with the social structures that generate further systems...? (Ignore this if you don't know). I don't assume that all graduate students have the same writing skills, but I do know that not being a native English speaker has its drawbacks when trying to get a graduate education in the US. I'm not complaining, just stating a fact that 'it's hard out there for us non-English speakers grad students'- but this is what we signed on for; a linguistic adventure of sorts. I have noticed that in the past two years I am mastering English in different and better ways that when I arrived here that August afternoon of 2008.

I wish I had a greater command for words in English, as I do in Spanish, but again this is why I must practice. One of my plans is to start a writing group this next fall with my fellow graduate students in my program to see who is interested to look over each other works and give feedback. This is the answer to the expectancy that our professors have towards our writing, without clearly stating so. Professors do not feel in a position to teach their apprentices the magical world of writing as a graduate student. My answer to this is to teach ourselves, in a very Dumbledore's Army kind of way; I will learn my curses and charms from my fellow Ravenclaws then.

For some reason, I love the idea of writing and trying to explore new ways in which I can further hone my skills. The anthropologist in me is always curious about novel ways in which I can achieve this. My latest adventure is this blog in which I am trying to be more disciplined, academic (in the sense that I am critically thinking about a topic) and logical while not boring myself. I guess this post should serve as an introduction to this blog...but that's the beauty of the writing exercise, at least Ideas are flowing somehow, and hopefully they will get better and well developed. My goal is to write as well as some of the people I currently am reading, let's see how that goes.

Capital gay Pride

Yesterday I went to the Capital Pride Parade. It was a very interesting experience and one that I personally enjoyed. Though the activity retained a festive characteristic it was very well put together and did not have many "exaggerated" elements that I was expecting in this kind of event; I don't know if that is a good tng or a bad thing...yet. It was full of contrasts and very much reflected the highly political atmosphere that always permeate DC. I'll come back to this in the end.

When I was in Madrid two years ago, I went to the pride parade there and though I was reluctant to go, I had a good time nonetheless. It was a very different experience from the one that I just went in DC. One of the main aspects of the Madrid parade was that big and little, local and international organizations related to LGBT issues were present in the floats; lesbian (in)visibility was highlighted at the parade (it was actually the theme of the whole event) and there seemed to be a great presence of lesbians in the floats. Another contrasting characteristic between the two was that while the event seemed to highlight very serious issues (mainly civil and sexual rights), it still had an element of playful debauchery and explicit challenge to mainstream norms; there were a great number of drag queens, leather gays, people in very minimal (nude and body painted, underwear, swimsuits) and revealing clothing. All of this existing parallel contrasted with the family environment that the parade encouraged; there were homosexual and heterosexual families with little children at the sidelines of the parade who were engaged with the floats and its participants.

In contrast the DC parade had an element of a big block party with a particular surreality to it. For one, the parade seemed to be aimed just to the LGBT community and rightfully so provided an outlet of lax playfulness to the everyday constraints of decorum and conduct; much like Latin American Carnivals that present an escape to everyday rightfulness and permit sinful behaviors just before lent starts. The music and floats seemed to be invite everyone to "just relax and chill" while showing everyone how diverse the DC and its surrounding areas really are. Despite this, there were no naked people, no body paint, nothing out of the ordinary except for the DC gay leather float (which had men in leather jocks at the least and other S&M clothing), a strip pole (with models that when taking into account that they were using a strip pole, might as well be wearing suits and dresses) and someone in underwear would appear once in a while. It was a very conservative LGBT party when compared to the one in Madrid, but the comparison might not be fair given the two very diffent contexts. Another aspect of the DC parade was the many (many) floats of politicians including incumbent mayor Fenty and others seeking (re)election this coming November, and the different Church's floats. Churches? in Gay Pride? At first it was just weird. Though I am not a big fan of religion I am respectful enough to not be too negative about it if not previously brought up. There were many floats, I did not count how many there were to be exact, but an educated guess would be about twenty floats; twenty floats were from churches encouraging diversity and acceptance in their communities across the DC area. Their message was clear: we accept you in our communities. I don't have further thoughts on this.

Going back to one of my original thoughts on this matter, it is obvious why that this event is highly politicized, full of religion, a cup of progressiveness and more goodies mixed in the batter. Inmigration equality had a float, as well as the controversial Human Rights Campaign along with the gay cowboys and the local gay sport bar. It seems that these organizations, which are based in DC, see these types of events to publicly bolster their claim as defenders of their 'subjects': the LGBTs, the immigrant LGBTs, the religious LGBTs, the LGBTs that are parents, the republican and democrat LGBTs, etc. DC is not a battleground, but it does have a cathartic characteristic to it in which one can come and bitch about what is perceived as wrong and try to get someone to pay attention to you...and this is what the DC pride parade missed: a social involvement with the community was downplayed in order to demonstrate the importance of DC as a political stronghold; much like one of the Two Towers of Middle Earth.

I wanted to see more social work and less politics, but pride still works and should be celebrated. Though I don't highly identify with "We're here, we're queer, get used to it", I do have things in common with other LGBTs; as such I felt the need for this reflection and to celebrate 'queerness' by being present, never invisible! Looking back this post is more of a reflection and right now I don't seem to have more opinions about the event. I wish more refection of this manner could be achieved. Therefore, in keeping with the style of previous posts, I will just present my unanswered questions and thoughts on the matter.

Other thoughts:

1. Is the pride movement in the US more conservative than in Spain (Europe)? I want to say yes...
2. Has 'pride' been more successful in being family friendly in Spain than here in the US?
3. Is it a positive thing that pride here is not as 'nude' and 'out there' as in other places? Am I just reproducing Phallic-WASP Ideology with such a statement? Again, did I do this when i refer to other expressions of pride as 'exaggerated' at the beginning of this post?

Ender's Game and NOM

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[Warning: Highly subjective and personalistic post]

Yesterday I realized that the author of this book I'm reading, is a conservative gay-marriage-hater Mormon . I am currently reading Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card and I am enthralled with the book. This is taken from the author's wikipedia entry:

"A devout and outspoken Mormon, Card is a board member of the National Organization for Marriage." (wiki link).

NOM is an organization that embodies many things that are wrong with American society (I am not even trying to be objective, but this is my narrative after all so bear with me) as they are against civil liberties and rights that should be entitled to every person regardless of their sexual identity, gender, race, religion, etc. I feel really strongly about this topic, but this is not the issue that I want to discuss.

It was a shock to learn that the author of this book that I am reading (and enjoying) would be against something I thought so essential in my life. I felt insulted; but that was partially my own fault. I should have done more research about the author before I started reading the book. I feel conflicted, as it is a moral and spritual dillema for me; If I knew beforehand that he is an outspoken participant of this organization, I would have boycotted reading the book in the first place. How do I make it right in my mind right now? I am disturbed and feel wrong about this. How do I deal with the fact that this guy is a "gay-hater" (my personal subjectification) and I enjoy his sci-fi books?

It would have been clearer (easier) for me to have made this decision if Glenn Beck came out with Sci-fi books; I would definitely not go there! That's why it's easier to make this kind of decision with contemporary authors, and that is exactly why I don't read Paulo Coehlo's books among others. Problem is, Orson Scott Card is a contemporary author. BURNED doesn't even being to describe how bad this looks.

My mistake still makes me think about the product of artists and authors when we consume them. Obviously I don't see a problem when the product goes along the lines of a more liberal (as opposed to conservative) vision of the cosmos. In addition, thinking about art and its products reminded me of my short trip yesterday afternoon to the National Portrait Gallery in Chinatown, where I lingered on the President's Hall. Out of curiosity I went to this specific part of the museum trying to replicate a sublime experience such as the one I had last Sunday at the National Gallery of Art. I felt sad and scared, but no sublime. The portraits presented a group of white men who are regarded as the epitome of the American Republic; a climax that everyone thinks represents what it means to be American. I definitely didn't feel that way: I felt as a stranger looking at canvas in disdain. I felt sad because of the many catastrophes these men unleashed. But of course these men also had many great qualities, but so did many other monsters through history. Point is, no one is one-dimensional and these men definitely were not just brave, awesome and the founding fathers and leaders of the American dream the discursive narratives repeat; they also owned slaves, treated women as inferior human beings and did as they pleased with Native Americans and the emerging American Countries all over the continent. My gaze in the museum lingered on a imperialist perception of an neo-imperialist nation. I didn't feel represented by that. How can non-male, non-white people see these men and see empathy in their eyes? How can they see themselves as part of the result of their endeavors? How can people see them in such a romanticized manner? How can they insert themselves in this narrative?

And that was my lesson; a rude awakening. Being a victim of what I profess, I realized that these presidents, these artists and these contemporary authors are more than just anti-gay conservative bastards, or self-help suppliers to needy-emotional junkies. These people are also creative souls that can inspire me and make me joyous in other aspects of my life. This aspect of living in multiverses also reminds me on how people from different beliefs are crossing over into areas some people never thought they would go.  Conservatives writing Sci-Fi; homos like me preying on sci-fi; Cher and Madonna resisting aging; Apple and Google fighting over control of the world; Gays wanting to get married, etc... Nothing is just something and authors, very much like humans are more than just one thing: they can be other things too and that is ok.

Orson Scott Card is an asshole, but I can still enjoy his book. It's ok, I can do this.

Other thoughts

• Is this why Elton John played at Rush Limbaugh's wedding? Because he knows Rush is not just a conservative prick?
• What's the difference of this and when I read The Chronicles of Narnia?
• Would I be disillusioned if I knew that Asimov was also a homo hater? What about other people like Darwin, Galileo, Pope John Paul II?
• Is this really important? Do I really need to know the artist's politics to enjoy it more? Less? Same?

Catholicism and growing up...

Thank Jeebus for Facebook (or not really Facebook, but the mainframe that permits us to share ideas and articles as such).

I read this blog post because a Facebook friend shared it in his wall. In summary the article talks about how growing up in a baptist house left the author in a black-hole of self-body hatred and a sick sense of paranoia to the outside world and how feminism provided a respite to all this. Her father has difficulty in comprehending the consequences of such an upbringing and argues that all he did was for their own good (and to his defense this might be all he knew and as such, his truth). But the wisdom that Madonna shares with us suggests that  "The road to hell is paved with good intentions".

Reading about this, I thought of my own weird catholic upbringing and how it affected my body image, my views on sex. masturbation, urges and life in general. In a nutshell, one can say that Catholicism is all about guilt. But I want to elaborate on this by illustrating my experience with the Roman church.

Catholicism back home is so nuanced and embedded in everyday life, that we have no idea that it really exists until it slaps you in the face. We don't have spring break, we have holy week off; Christmas time is almost a two month long celebration culminating some time after Epiphany; the church is in the news and in the newspapers from time to time, etc. All this translates to a sense of religious omnipresence that many people feel they belong to, even without actually practicing catholicism. This means that though my family rarely went to Church on Sundays, we were still catholic and so are the many other Puerto Ricans who behaved like us. Not going to church on Sundays, did not mean that their spiritual communion with the Catholic God was broken/damaged in any way (and this is me dodging the issue of how some old folks actually still practice some kind of African-influenced catholic syncretic beliefs); being a catholic is just a state of 'just being' by practicing some basic and crucial beliefs (most often conservative ones) about God and its message of personal salvation. Again, though my family rarely (I mean like 15 times total in my whole life) went to church, me and my sisters were baptized and had godparents with lavish and communal celebrations; my sister and me had our first communion; I did my confirmation when I was 13; my sisters' Quinceañeros parties started with a special mass on church; funerals and wakes were done according to catholic rites; etc... We were as Catholic as we could have been.

Since Kindergarten to 8th grade I attended a Catholic school near my home. I was a nerd and though I was a straight A student, I had problems respecting authority and talking back to teachers; which led to many letters to my parents and month-long military style groundings after parent-teacher meetings. Despite all this, the nuns loved me and so did a couple of teachers with whom I behaved well, one of which was the Religion class teacher. She paraded me around the school as I was well ahead of my classmates in terms of the knowledge I could master about religious teachings, the catholic dogma and the insight the bible provides to human nature. I became the uber-catholic boy and could have given Henry VIII a good run for the title of Defender of the Faith. In my role as defender of the faith I was always proclaiming the infallible standing of the Catholic Church and its sacred origins with Jesus. I started reading in mass and became the youngest catechist in my church at 14 (I had a group of nine year olds), participated and worked in retreats, led christian youth groups and was the epitome of Catholic dogma embodied in this young teenager extraordinaire!

As much as I defended my beliefs in public, I constantly engaged in debates with nuns, teachers and priests about the constructed nature of Catholic dogma and its shady representation in the bible; they welcomed these debates, but always backstage. All this time that I spent reaffirming myself as a son of God, I felt a struggle with my own opinions and how I felt doing and thinking about everyday life. In school we were taught that our bodies were temples that housed the Holy Spirit, and that by thinking, saying or doing anything against our chastity, we were violating the 6th commandment: masturbation, among other things was indeed included here.

Something as natural (I remember doing it as a little kid without even knowing what it was) as exploring your body, was now something to be ashamed of. Fighting these urges was something I struggled with every day; and when I finally indulged in it, the guilt swooped in. It left me in a horrible state of mind because I could'nt fathom the idea that someone as committed to the church as me was indulging in such a disgusting sin. I prayed and fasted, until I felt I had punished myself long enough for the sin I committed. I don't remember ever looking at myself as multifaceted person: I was just this catholic boy that had to fight his urges in order to be spiritually communing with God and as such, gain entrance to Heaven. And I won't even discuss how I felt about my homosexual 'tendencies'...

Sex was a non-issue in my home, and while it was not widely discussed it was certainly not prohibited. My mom gave me books about human biology and I pieced information together along with books about puberty I took out of the library. My older half-brother also gave me lots of unsolicited information when he visited us. Through different outlets I received disparate information about what sex was and how it was supposed to happen. Though I didn't think of myself as a homosexual back then, I definitely repressed those feelings as well. Sex became this sick ordeal; I definitely was scared of sex as I had been repressing it for so long, and even though I distanced myself from the church and its teachings sometime after my mom died, I still felt its grip in my decisions and thoughts.

This manner of growing up with this guilt and fear of discovering sex and your body, leaves us with a distorted way of looking at ourselves and others. While the guilt is not there anymore, the manner of how to approach people and my own issues regarding this topics is still affected by all this. Acknowledging that this is not an isolated event, or even a singular particularity of my life I still believe that this Catholic omnipresence and upbringing adversely affected my body image and the way I (used to) approach this topic and my sexual/romantic relationships.

So, some more thoughts:

1. How are little kid's view on their 'self' affected by this 'temple' body discourse? 
2. What happens to people who are prey to this discourse if they are later in life raped or molested? Will they think it's their fault because their temple was desecrated? How will they feel about having their body/temple besmirched by extraneous doing? Again, will they think is their fault?
3. If this body/temple belief is deconstructed and accepted by mainstream thought, will it mean a less traumatic experience of rape/molestation? Will it mean a less traumatic view of sex in general? Will it be the end of virginity as we know it?

Burn After Reading

Burn After Reading by the Coen Brothers,
a different kind of review

[Spoiler Alert]

This movie left me with an unsavory distate for the story. While watching it, I thought of the many directions the plot and the characters could have taken to develop a stronger film aesthetic. Starting with the characters; Chad and Linda seemed cartoonish at their best, as their lack of common sense on issues such as blackmail and extortion was plainly outrageous. The fact that this woman was just able to waltz in to the Russian embassy and just hand over 'potential' highly important information, undermines the sense of paranoia one can only enjoy by living in DC and its surrounding areas. But, combine this with the clownish expression that Chad gave us just before he got shot in the head, and that is where the surrealism of this whole story kicks in. It's scary to accept this, but it appears that there are people like this; again, scary. Harry seems the normal one of the bunch and that is saying something; self obsessed, knows what to say to get his way (flattering, is that even an adjective to describe someone?), going through mid-life crisis and a womanizer. Paranoid? A little, but who can blame him; big and little brother were watching him. Dr. Cox (forgot her name) again, a bit exaggerated it seemed that the writer's purpose with her was to cause in the audience the same discomfort that she gave everyone in the movie: we all agreed that she was a cold stuck-up bitch. Osbourne, oh god... he was my favorite, but I think that is because I have a thing for Malkovich; he is an ateur and I respect that. Still, why is he so deluded and out of his own senses (I don't agree that he was an alcoholic)? Sandy? she did what she had to do.

The plot is weird, and it didn't have the same coherent characteristic that Magnolia had. Why Magnolia? Well, I thought of it because of the collage of characters and their interconnectedness. It's a nice movie, but not quite good enough for my elitist taste in movies (though some people might contest that, but that is besides the point). It appears that romance (or the look for that grateful other) is always a weaving point in Hollywood movies; and as someone who has looked at online dating in the DC area, Linda's story is all the more funny to me...and sad. Truth to be honest, her body issues are not out of place because DC is full of 'fit' people (notice how I didn't say pretty, gorgeous or hot) and it's hard out there to be the 805,743 ugly/unfit person in DC. And I just became cognizant of this last Monday when I went to nearby Six Flags (and adjacent water park) and saw all the ugliness that Maryland and DC has to offer (and I loved it; the only guy that stood out of the crowd? A tanned/shaved armpits muscular white dude that was sunbathing at the water park, go figure!).

Anyway, these are some of the unanswered Queries:

1. What's up with the dildo chair?
2. Why did Washington DC exude this romantic ambiance to it in the movie? I felt like I was in Paris, Madrid or somewhere in the old world.
3. Why was Dr. Cox a cold-stuck up bitch even to her kiddie patients?

I give this movie, 3/5 Coelacanths