Monday, April 27, 2009
The film provided an interesting look at the process of child birth and its nature as a business in our country, an issue that is rarely given attention in the media. It focuses on the birth experience in the United States as often being cold and calculated and suggests that women are often left in the dark concerning the various options available to them. It does this by contrasting natural methods of childbirth with the hospital operation delivery method that seems to be most commonly employed in contemporary American society.
In presenting these themes, the film raises many difficult questions which have been avoided in the media and among medical practitioners which it proceeds to attempt to answer. For example, why the infant and maternal mortality rates in the US are the second worst in the world in comparison with other developed countries. Why midwives deliver 60-80% of all births in other developed countries, but only 8% in the United States. Why the cesarean rate in America is so high, particularly when compared to other countries which have a much lower cesarean rate but much better overall outcome. Why so many mothers state that they experienced dissatisfaction with their birth experience or maternity care. Why so many American births occur in hospitals. Why the main attitude towards birth is rooted in fear, versus trust and normalcy.
It questions, most specifically, why people do not more commonly ask these questions and rather treat them as though it were a taboo subject. It deals with quite a bit of information, though was able to do so in a relatively ordered and accessible manner, showing the negative cycle resulting from medicated childbirth which usually ends in a caesarean, the manner in which media depicts birth and links it with fear, insurance issues, malpractice issues, and most interestingly, suggesting possible results of disturbing the “love cocktail” of hormones that exist in unmedicated births which ensures bonding and secures the maternal instinct.
The film opens as a homebirth midwife prepares to head out to a birth. The footage is shown interspersed with individuals discussing their own perceptions of midwifery and midwives, many of them unfamiliar with the work and assuming them to be unqualified or unreliable. I think one of the most interesting elements of this film is that it presents the culture in which we live as one that places science and the medical realm above all else, so much that we often miss out on the experiences and sensations in life which make us human. The act of given birth is treated as a problem that must be fixed, in a medical sense, rather than a natural process that has occurred since the beginning of life.
What the film is particularly successful at showing is the great number of unmedicated births that it shows. It makes the viewer take note of the manner in which childbirth, a natural and commonplace practice, has been taken out of the public realm, out of the home and out of society and into the hospital, confined and sterilized, as if to suggest it to be something anomic.
It also visually presents the woman in a greater state of power and strength. Television and film depictions of women giving birth do so in a manner which makes them appear passive and victimized to an affliction with which they must ‘deal.’ Similarly, hospital-based childbirth presents women on their backs, strapped down with tubing and medication, dramatically screaming in pain. The many examples of natural childbirth in the film present the women in a greater position of control, both in their knowledge and choice provided amidst numerous options, as well as in the physical act of delivery. They are shown strong, determined and in control.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I remember the first time I was officially exposed to ideas of feminism. I must have been in the third or fourth grade. I used to go to a lot of museums back home in Houston, Texas because most of them were free to children under 18 if you had a library card. It was the Houston Contemporary Arts Museum...a relatively small space compared to the big MFA across the street, but still very edgy and well-frequented. One visit stuck out in my mind in which "the guerilla girls" were the focus of the exhibition. There were many posters that asked what seemed to be pretty simple statements and questions at the time. Statements and questions that highlighted the clear disparity between the representation of female artists in the museums over time. I remember agreeing with some of the posters...and i remember even getting angry at the time...I remember asking my mother later why they were wearing gorilla masks, and why guerilla was spelled different. I was pretty obsessed with it for a while, the kind of playful jokiness of it...but also how true most of what they were asking seemed to be, even to a little girl aspiring to be a famous artist. It was also then that I was explained the concept of anonymity (in response to the question "why do they wear masks?" "who are they?" "why dont they want people to know who they are?") and the notion of tactics of anonymity to make a point. Maybe I didn't know the terms to explain what I was discovering...but I know that it stuck with me for a long time and it made me much more sensitive to women's issues at an early age.
I thought about this memory because I was looking through old notebooks from art history classes in my first year of college here...in which I copied down what I thought at the time to be a brilliantly world-shaking suggestion ... "anonymous was a woman" meaning that most art throughout time that lacks official authorship is generally accepted by art historians to have been produced from the hand of a woman.
I still find this fascinating.
So, as I have mentioned before, I am extremely interested in the various manners in which women construct and communicate particular identities about themselves through practices of self-fashioning. My search for information dealing particularly with the link between female anorexic bodies as a kind of performed androgynous gender through self-fashioning led me to some very interesting information branching out in different directions. One of the most interesting pieces of literature that I have stumbled upon during this semester is the work written by Loraine Gamman and Merja Makinen in their book Female Fetishism. Due to past work that I have done in rhetorical studies and media studies with the notion of fetishism and the interest that this has sparked within me for the topic, I was particularly intrigued by the extension of the concept to explain certain performative elements of gender as a form of fetishism. Gamman and Makinen examines various practices performed by women which they claim have the potential to destabilize dominant discourse about gender, sexuality and the dominant structures through their identification as perverse. Amidst many others, the authors include female cross-dressing and bulimia in their long list of female fetishes. In their discussion of fashion and fetishism, attention is paid to the historic use of clothing as fetish object to differentiate changing social roles along both class and gender lines. Perhaps most interesting in this discussion of fashion and fetishism is the concept of “femininity as perversion” in which fashion as commodity plays a role in “the perverse masquerade of gender” exemplified by the female ‘homeovestite’ who “dresses up as a woman [and] masquerades as a quintessential feminine type (70).”Another interesting element of this book is its very bold examination of the relationship between eating disorders and expressions of gender and sexuality, elaborating on the performative aspect of anorexic and bulimic behaviors as a “flight from femininity,” a denial of female sexuality and a “flight from the male gaze (123).” It is definitely something that I think I will be referring to in the future with various academic projects I may involve myself with.
Friday, April 10, 2009
This came to me through the speaker, Sarah Dopp, who came to Grounds for Change last night through FMLA on campus to talk about the "grey areas" of gender. A self proclaimed genderqueer, Sarah is the creator of a blog/website called genderfork.com which makes androgynous or otherwise defintion resistant individuals the focus. I am just so excited about everything she was talking about, her stories mixed between slam poetry and digressions into memories connected to her own experiance of her search for understanding her gender. I met with her briefly after she was done and told her everything I am trying to explore with my project and how super-psyched I was the she came. After giving me her personal info and some stuff from her site that she compiled in a word document just to have on her person (I felt special,) I bounced away, out the door and down the stairs feeling more intellectually alive than I have in a very very long time. Its really nice to be this excited about something and to really feel like it matters both personally and on a larger societal level. I really feel like I have important things to say in the larger gender studies conversation, and I just can't wait to get there.
I highly suggest you check out the site:
"beauty in ambiguity"
Monday, April 6, 2009
So, this will be a perhaps shorter entry, and attending to a more personal topic than my previous few. I often find myself frustrated with friends of mine, people that for every other reason unlisted I adore deeply. What is my issue? Most of my friends identify as being quite politically and socially progressive. They will verbally exhaust their ideals of egalitarianism at any chance they get, with furvor and with poeticism. Of course they are feminists. Of course they belive in equality and respect for all regaurdless of age, race, sex, gender, class etc etc. And I do truly appreciate their public affection of and declaration for such viewpoints. But, I have to admit that there seems to be more and more instances piling up in the widening pit of my memory that rather illuminate a wide gap between words and actions. Perhaps this is quite common and is really no suprise, as we are all human I suppose, but I think that this pattern has just recently really struck a cord with me...that somehow it mustered its way up into my consciousness...unavoidably begging for my attention like the clink clank of a cord hanging from a ceiling fan swirling too quickly on a humid summer night when you can't fall asleep, when you can't quite tell what it is that is making you feel uncomfortable to the point of insomnia but you know that the fact of your discomfort is undeniable.
It may seem a small happening, but like I have surely alluded to, the small clicks and hummings can make quite a stir when built up and shifted into ones space of awareness. Perhaps I should tell the little story that has inspired me to rant and rave about my otherwise dear friends. You see, I live in a house with three other individuals. Two of these identify as male. Now, while I know that keeping a clean house becomes an issue for any housemates, whether in college or not, we seem to have this ridiculous problem with keeping a sink empty of dirty dishes. We have tried putting up signs (“please do your own dishes” – ha – what a joke). We’ve tried having a house meeting and deciding that we would wash our dishes immediately after we were through with them (something that I find very simple, and do myself…but alas, ‘twas an effort that failed quite early). Being admittedly somewhat OCD when it comes to cleanliness, I often found (and still find) myself being the one who takes the brave move to tackle the overflowing sink of dishes. At first, I thought that I was being somewhat “naggy” about it, maybe even selfish in not realizing that I might require more cleanliness in my own life to be able to operate efficiently. (I mean, why should I expect others to have to change their ways just to suit my tastes right?) But then I realized, as this pattern was beginning to notably grow, that it seemed as though no one else was doing any of their dishes because it was assumed that one of the women of the house was going to take care of it. Now this was never stated of course, how could it be as it would be a contradiction to those proud progressive values we claim to hold amidst our circle. I could probably add much more to this story, but I think the main information is there. It seemed like a little deal, but the little deal grew into a big deal that was really actually bothering me in a deep kind of way, even seeming to effect my relationships with these people I love as I began to question their respect for me and my own time and well-being.
I think that for a while I had managed to kind of push it into my unconscious mind, as if I could just pretend that it really wasn’t an issue that needed to be dealt with. I think that the shift came from my arrival at a point that any of us may find ourselves situated in which one becomes hyperaware of ones own complicity in the matter. I realized that by my silencing my feelings, however hazy and confused they were within my own mind, I was essentially approving of the everyday happenings taking place.
I remember one of the first times that I gently, casually mentioned the issue to one of my housemates, he simply replied, “I have so much work, I’m so busy, I’m not going to clean other people’s dishes.” It made me so furious, because at the same time, it felt as though he was saying that his time was more valuable than mine, as if I wasn’t also overwhelmed with work.
So in response to all of this and in attempts to sort of draw attention to the matter, I have started loudly singing a little song I wrote about reinforcing gender roles whenever I do the dishes. It’s pretty great actually (if I do say so myself), a folksy little ditty complete with rounds that add an additional ridiculous household chore that I may find myself having to do that, more often then not, involves a mess not of my own, (pickin’ up the beer caps) and sometimes particularly of a mess only possibly made by those with male anatomy (for example, stray piss in the bathroom…I mean…seriously?!*) The important element of the song, I think, is that it is clearly being ironic in that the lyrics are sung not so much as a lament but as a joyful praise at how much I LOVE doing these things everyday and especially how much I LOVE reinforcing the gender roles that I am here at Allegheny studying and working to challenge and dissolve through academic work. So this song is my own little comfort in a way, and honestly, I think it has brought about a couple improvements. It seems to have made my housemates more aware of themselves, what they are doing, and most importantly, of how what they say they believe needs to be reinforced by actions.
*regarding the whole stray piss in the bathroom thing – I feel the need to clarify that this was kind of a one time issue…one of my housemates thought it would be fun to attempt playing the saxophone while relieving himself after a return from the bar on his 21st birthday. It was only semi-successful as you can imagine. Still, who ended up cleaning it? You guessed it!
*blog entry edit* - I feel the need to make a comment about the photo that I posted with the entry. I did not take that picture for this entry. No, I actually realized that one of my housemates had taken that picture of me candidly. "Wow, that even makes it kind of more fucked up" as a guy friend of mine pointed out.