Tag Archives: Feminism

Feminism, Consciousness, and Memory

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I recently discovered a feminist philosophy professor from LeMoyne College, Karmen MacKendrick, who has written about one of my favorite subjects—difference and sameness.  The following is a selection in a review by Richard A. Lee, Jr. of one of her books:

The issue in Fragmentation and Memory is the question of the relation between unity or wholeness and difference or fragmentation. The argument could be put quite generally and abstractly: wherever there is a drive for unity or wholeness, there fragmentation will always and necessarily be found. More specifically, MacKendrick argues that it is fragmentation that is, in fact, primary and that the obsession one finds with unity and wholeness is, in fact, derivative of this primary fragmentation. The key to this is memory. In a sense, memory as always fragmented remembers this primary fragmentation.

“My dull brain is racked by things forgotten,” said Macbeth.  Shakespeare knew that our memory was a house of cards, teetering on the bedrock of the unconsciousness.  He knew that individuals like Macbeth…and I’m sure himself…were “weak links” who felt the seepage from that forbidden territory.  And groups of individuals, even countries, can also experience this seepage also, as is the case currently with my country, the United States.  We are demonstrating what can happen when a mouth piece for a country’s hidden ugliness appears on the scene, giving voice and action to its reptilian brain.  For always, there is, “Only a tissue thin curtain in the brain (that) shuts out the coiled recumbent landlord.”  (E. L. Mayo)

In the very early stages of our development, what will become a mature psyche begins to take shape in the depths of chaos, termed above as “primary fragmentation.”  Mackendrick asserts that this memory, which our ego wants us to take as so sacrosanct, is actually “derivative” of this chaotic, fragmented stage of development.  But Shakespeare realized, with the Macbeth character, that the “derivative roots” of memory are still there and influence tortured souls, as well as gifted souls who can sublimate the anguish of their “racked brain” into works of art, literature, and religion; this is naming but a few disciplines that can facilitate this redemptive sublimation.

The unconscious is always present.  It is present in a subterranean “structure” that is always already underway when we born, providing a fabric of assumptions, premises, and even biases which provide a safe cocoon in which we can find our footing in the tribal culture into which we are born.  The challenge comes in maturing enough to accept at some point the presence of these “subterranean” influences, a realization that strikes terror in most hearts who prefer living on the surface of life.  To accept these influences is to encounter the feeling of being out of control as we embrace our mortality and fragility, devoid of the safety the cocoon provided in our youth.  This is the existential predicament that comes with being a human being and emerging from the cocoon which would otherwise stifle our interior life.  This is what Jesus had in mind when he posed the question, “What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul?”

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Here is a list of my blogs.  I invite you to check out the other two sometime.

https://anerrantbaptistpreacher.wordpress.com/

https://literarylew.wordpress.com/

https://theonlytruthinpolitics.wordpress.com/

GOD IS IN THE WATER

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Taos, New Mexico  continues to teach me. I have long since learned to “pay attention” to what we think and do in our life, especially when it is a significant change. When I arrived here in early February, one of the first things that serendipitously offered itself to me was a weekly get-together with those who would enjoy reading and discussing Karl Jung. Shortly thereafter I “knee deep” in dream work again and paying attention to how the unconscious was guiding me and my wife. And I began to understand what this whimsical move to a new state at age 62, leaving friends and family behind. It was a “cutting of the cord” of sorts and an opportunity to explore worlds unknown.

One of the first things I noted was, “Where are the white people? Where are the white people?” Brown-skinned people appeared to predominate i the population, Hispanic and Native American. And for the first time in my life I experienced “being different” in terms of skin color though this “difference” is not as significant as I felt. Statistically, there are many “honkies” just like me. But it was interesting and emotionally provocative to feel in a minority. It was also provocative to see and feel the whole of a different culture and to take up residence in a house far different than that to which I was accustomed to.

There are many, many differences present which are teaching me. But I want to focus on one of them, the Native American presence here which is reflected in architecture, art, and….skin color, all of which is beautiful. Present just north of Taos is the Taos Pueblo which dates back over a thousand years. This Pueblo is officially not part of the United States and has its own legal and educational system. For more information, see (http://www.taospueblo.com)
And there are many other Native American tribes represented here which contributes significantly to the cultural atmosphere of the region and the state.

Just two weeks ago I attended a poetry reading at our local literary society, SOMOS, Society of the Muse of the Southwest. I was privileged to hear a lovely young Cheyenne woman read several poems and was just stunned at the wisdom she offered. Here is one poem that she recently published on Face Book.”

GOD IS IN THE WATER
by Lyla June Johnson

When I close my eyes at night
I can feel the rock being cut open
by water.

I hear a grandfather song
and it sounds like sand
walking down the river bottom.

In this song they talk about how even
the mighty canyon rivers began as
a meandering stream.

Beneath the gentle waters there are people.
Not people like you and me.
Stone people.

When I close my eyes at night
I am one of them
and God is the water.

Over lifetimes She eats at me
until I am polished and smooth.

She teaches me
about being gentle and persistent,
about patience and commitment.

Her voice
hums in my blood
quiet as a stream in the night
and it is a song about how
we are all
just
so loved.

When I close my eyes she says to me
in trickles and bubbles:

“Journeys.
Take them.
Try to remember who you are along the way.
I have nothing for you but these words.
Take them with you
and I will see you again when you arrive
at the ocean’s throne
as one million kernels of sand”

The eagles dip their talons into Her soft body
and pull a fleshmeal
from the water.

They sing this grandfather song with her
and it sounds like feathers
cutting into the sky.

It is a song about how even
hatred surrenders
to wonder.

Breaking my heart apart like
a stubborn puzzle of granite.

Even the hardest doubts and sorrows crumble
into bits and give way to
Her infinite grace.

And who knew that
growth can sometimes mean
standing in the wind until
everything we think we own
is torn away from us
and replaced with a weightlessness
so profound that we can’t not cry
tears of absolute praise
and run all around the river banks shouting to the
the minnows and the cattails and the crawdads
about the truth of beauty?

The truth of a God that
breathes through the trees
weaves winter from water and night
weaves bodies from dust and light
and carries us down the river of life over
and over until we finally understand
the meaning of forever.

In the language of the stones there is
no word for mistake.

Only the complete understanding of what it
means to be a beloved son or daughter.

I am the rock
and God is the water.

 

I would suggest you look her up on FB. She and many other young men and women have much to offer this world and are now establishing their roots and getting ready to shake up this dog-and-pony show that we are “strutting and fretting” in.

The “Packaging” of Women and Sex

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Loving words, and loving to play with them, I’ve always been taken by the turn-of-phrase, “I often turn my objects into women” as opposed to the lamentation of “turning women into objects.” But my focus today is on the objectification of women, an offense of which I am guilty as charged…I admit. For, I was raised in a culture where women were a mere commodity and this is still the case today, though there is much greater awareness of the problem. Fortunately, though still “cursed” with the “male gaze” that objectifies women, I have another dimension in my heart where I can see that women have value other than in gratifying my sexual urges.

Sex, like the rest of life, will never be “done” perfectly. Our sexuality always has a flavor that is determined by the time and place of our birth and upraising and it often takes decades to slough-off the unnecessary and unwholesome dimensions of “sex.” We must always remember that a primary function of sex is “making babies” and to carry out this primary need of the species, the human imagination is left to its own devices, including some that are immature and even “nasty” or brutal.

Sex, like everything else, comes to us as a packaged product. (Yes, even religion and spirituality does!) It takes a while to determine what parts of the package we wish to keep and maintain. And, we must remember, most people on this earth will never have the luxury of distinguishing between the “packaging” of any cultural contrivance and the “thing-in-itself.” I’m fortunate to be living in a culture, in an era where distinctions can be made…if one dares.

I’m in love with Maureen Down, a columnist for the New York Times. Merely look at her picture and you will see why! But it is more than her physical beauty that I enjoy. She is acid-tongued, brilliant, erudite, and adept at cutting to the core on issues in our culture. In today’s NYT, she addresses the aforementioned “packaging” of women through the ages.

Here is the link to Dowd’s column: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/07/14/opinion/sunday/dowd-the-tortured-mechanics-of-eroticism.html?ref=opinion&_r=0

And I close with my favorite line from Woody Allen, “Of course sex is dirty…if you do it right!”

 

Gender, Politics, and Sexuality

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One of my dear cyber friends that I’ve met through blogging is a woman whose blog is NeuroResearchProject.com. I will refer to her here as “V.” She works in the field of neuroscience and is obviously a prolific reader and blessed with a “curious mind” and I would add, “heart.” One of the many interests we share is the subject of gender and politics, certainly including the realm of “sexuality.” She and I are in accordance with the notion that power is a basic dimension of this intrinsically human realm. And, I might add, I think that power is a basic human issue and is relevant to every dimension of the human experience. If we draw the breath of life, we exercise power in some fashion, even if perhaps it is merely with our “powerlessness.” But that is a dangerous note to make as it easily “blames” the powerless for their lot and does not immediately address the tyranny of those who exercise “real” power in the “real” world. Here I share with you the observations of “V” re this subject and invite you to check out her excellent blog. Her observations refer to a couple of things I had noted to her in earlier correspondence. I also close with a very fascinating poem by a Palestinian woman about the exercise of power in the sexual act.

You said: “we sure did not like what had preceded our reign.”
That’s an interesting statement. In his Psychology Today article, “Why Men Oppress Women”, Steve Taylor said the oppression of women stems largely from men’s desire for power and control, which we talked about in earlier conversations—the power issue. Power and dominance increases dopamine and can hijack the brains reward center. I think men tend to have a disadvantage because of testosterone and one of its by-products called 3-androstanediol which increases dopamine. In his book “How Power Changes the Brain”, Dr. Ian Robertson states that too much power, thus too much dopamine can lead to gross errors of judgment, egocentricity, and lack of empathy for others.

Back to Taylor’s article, he states that the same need which, throughout history, has driven men to try to conquer and subjugate other groups or nations, and to oppress other classes or groups in their own society, drives them to dominate and oppress women. Since men (not all men) feel the need to gain as much power and control as they can, they steal away power and control from women. Taylor’s comment compliments what Dr. Robert Sapolsky observed during the years he spent with the Savanna baboons in their natural habitat. When lower ranking males were bullied by higher ranking males, they usurped authority by dominating the females in the troop, sometimes abusing them. He found that this social/cultural dynamic was not fixed; that it was learned behavior and could change dramatically (far less aggression and oppression). http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/peace_among_primates

You said: “Misogyny was underway but we were compelled by biology to desire them.”
Taylor goes on to say that even the former isn’t enough to explain the full terrible saga of man’s inhumanity to woman. That many cultures have had a strong antagonism towards women, viewing them as impure and innately sinful creatures who have been sent by the devil to lead men astray and has featured strongly in all three Abrahamic religions. As the Jewish Testament of Reuben states:

“Women are evil, my children…they use wiles and try to ensnare [man] by their charms…They lay plots in their hearts against men: by the way they adorn themselves they first lead their minds astray, and by a look they instil the poison, and then in the act itself they take them captive…So shun fornication, my children and command your wives and daughters not to adorn their heads and faces.”

Taylor says this is linked to the view—encouraged by religions—that instincts and sensual desires are base and sinful. Men associated themselves with the “purity” of the mind, and women with the “corruption” of the body. Since biological processes like sex, menstruation, breast-feeding and even pregnancy were disgusting to men, women themselves disgusted them too.

He further states that in connection with this, men have resented the sexual power that women have over them too. Feeling that sex was sinful, they were bound to feel animosity to the women who produced their sexual desires. In addition, women’s sexual power must have affronted their need for control. This meant that they couldn’t have the complete domination over women—and over their own bodies—that they craved. They might be able to force women to cover their bodies and faces and make them live like slaves, but any woman was capable of arousing powerful and uncontrollable sexual impulses inside them at any moment. He concludes by saying the last 6000 years of man’s inhumanity to woman can partly be seen as a revenge for this.

Source: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/out-the-darkness/201208/why-men-oppress-women

And now the poem that I promised:

This evening
a man will go out
to look for
prey
to satisfy the secrets of his desires.

This evening
a woman will go out
to look for
a man who will make her
mistress of his bed.
This evening
predator and prey will meet
and mix
and perhaps
perhaps
they will exchange roles.

By Maram al-Massri

 

Perils of the Muslim Brotherhood and other Misogynists.

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There is a story in today’s New York Times about the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and its concerns about women’s rights. I will share just one tidbit to illustrate the absurdity of their efforts. “A woman needs to be confined within a framework that is controlled by the man of the house,” said a Brotherhood “family expert.” He further explained, “ Even if a wife were beaten by her husband,” she must be shown, “ how she had a role in what happened to her.” (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/15/world/middleeast/muslim-brotherhoods-words-on-women-stir-liberal-fears.html?_r=0)

The empowerment of women in my country, the United States, is one of the most significant developments I have watched unfold in my lifetime. The importance of this development is very much related to having been born into a very traditional, patriarchal, and impoverished southern family in the United States in 1952. Of course, I knew nothing of family politics in those early years as “power structures” was a notion that I didn’t learn about until much later. But once I had completed college, began reading the social sciences, philosophy, and literature voraciously, I became aware of their presence and began to interpret my own personal life from the perspective I gained.

My Dad was the “head of the household” and he had the Bible to affirm this status. He and the local church emphasized his supremacy and the duty of his wife and six children to dutifully obey his authority. And for years we complied though early in our lives we began to see the inconsistencies in his teachings and in his day to day life and our loyalty was increasingly with mother.

A key feature of dad’s power was control of the purse strings and on that note he made a politically disastrous move in the late 1950’s when he coerced mother into taking a job at a nursing home. She later would recall how she hated doing taking this job, she hated leaving her children alone in the evening hours, and hated not being able to provide the “mother-hen” love that she showered upon us her brood But she, of course, had to cave in at some point and relent because our financial needs were pronounced and dad was the “head of the household.” She worked a bit more than a year before he changed his mind and wanted her to quit though at that point she liked working, her sense of accomplishment was rewarding, and the increased disposable income was a welcome relief from the tedium of abject poverty. But, still dutiful, she acquiesced and quit her position. But, within the year she returned to work, probably because of economic need but also I’m sure because of her wish to return to the life that she was discovering in her job.

This return to work sealed dad’s fate, setting in motion forces which would allow my family to modernize and, more or less, join the world. For, mother thrived in this job as a nurses aide, gained the confidence of her boss, even enrolled in nursing school (LPN school) and completed her licensure requirements. All this time, she was bringing in steady income and this income actually superseded that which dad made in his work as a laborer in the community. Meanwhile, we kids were growing up and becoming more and more aware of dad’s short comings and, admittedly, were always being enticed by mother’s love and not-too-subtle frustrations and anger at her husband.

And, to make a long story short…and perhaps I will try to develop the story more in the future…mom finally succeeded with her quest for independence and left dad, along with her brood, in 1969. This was necessary as dad had become increasingly depressed, hostile, and had even threatened aggression on one occasion. Within two months of this separation, dad had died of an heart attack.

The point of this personal anecdote is that when women gain employment, they gain empowerment, they have the opportunity to find an identity, and to engage in the world. But when they make progress of this sort, it does pose threats to the family dynamic and, in sociological terms, to the social fabric. For one of the bedrocks of traditional, conservative cultures is the subservience of women. If women gain liberties…if I might misapply the wisdom of Todd Akin and making, admittedly, a contorted statement…the gods might just “shut this whole thing down.” Men want control.

The Muslim Brotherhood stance is very telling and I can imagine how it has the Saudi political/religious establishment “shakin’ in their booties.” If they allow these “uppity” women to make any further inroads into their political fiefdom, it will place profound stresses on the social and cultural fabric. But, reality is that a dynamic culture must allow stresses to occur and to find that as they address these stresses they can benefit immensely. But, of course, Egypt is not a dynamic society. And the “gods” always fight change, “tooth and toenail.” (And this same dynamic can currently be seen in my country particularly with the far-right extreme of the Republican party.)

“Black Milk,” feminism, & depression

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I’ve read a lot of feminist literature in the past two decades, scholarly
endeavors as well as literary. Feminism was one of the powerful “isms” that the
20th century introduced and I think one of the most important of them in terms
of creating a new voice and in introducing to us the notion that new “voices”
are always in the making…or they should be if there is any “life” present in
the culture. Elif Sharak’s memoir Black Milk reflects one of these new
“voices” in Turkish culture. Sharak’s experience of becoming a new mother is
the framework of the memoir but it also delves significantly into the history of
feminism in the past century or so. She intertwines into the story line of the
memoir short vignettes of significant feminist figures in this time frame and
highlights some of the battles they fought with themselves, their romantic
partners, and their culture. She also eloquently describes her battle with a
debilitating post-partum depression.

There are many astute observations she makes in the book. I will share only
one, a piercing observation about depression which touches on faith in God. She
describes depression as, “that sinking feeling that your connection to God is
broken and you are left to float on your own in a liquid black space, like an
astronaut who has been cut loose from his spaceship and all that linked him to
Earth.”

I have read clinical tomes on the subject of depression and many of those that I
find most insightful, from a psycho-dynamic viewpoint, approach the subject of
depression as a loss, as the experience of “the lost object.” And from my own
clinical work I can note that one of the most significant signs of depression is
when a person starts breaking off connections, therefore “losing” friends, work,
family, faith…and if the downward spiral is not interrupted even life
itself. Ultimately this spiral leads to Hamlet’s famous lament, “To be or not to be,
that is the question.” These words of Shakespeare and the quotation above from
Shafak bring to my mind the famous Edvard Munch painting, The Scream. That is
one visual image of ultimate despair, the subjective experience of that
aforementioned astronaut being cut loose from his spaceship.