If a Girl Isn't Pretty

Have you ever heard of Fanny Brice?  She was a vaudeville star in the early 20th century.  Later, her life story was made into a musical and movie called "Funny Girl."  One of the songs in that musical, "If A Girl Isn't Pretty," reminded me recently of a feminist tic that I have.  I dislike double standards for men and women.  One that annoys me most is the standard set for men and women with regard to outward appearance.

Barbara Streisand, "If A Girl Isn't Pretty"

Often, women are expected to gussy themselves up in makeup, nice clothes, curled/styled hair, high uncomfortable shoes, and other expensive accessories.*  On the other hand, men can basically wash their hair and roll out of bed, put on anything, and it's totally fine.  Men aren't expected to wear makeup to cover up their real face or endure discomfort in the name of fashion, but somehow these things are perfectly acceptable to require of women, and the women who don't participate are viewed as ugly and unnatural.**

I was reminded of this double standard when listening to a version of another favorite Broadway song.  The relevant portion of original lyrics are reproduced below - this is a song composed by George Gershwin and is typically sung by a woman.  Keep your eye on the bolded lyrics describing the physical features of the woman's future love.

There's a somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that he turns out to be
Someone to watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me

Although he may not be the man some girls think of
As handsome, to my heart
He carries the key

So, let's review the key elements here: a woman is looking for a man to complete her.  Even though he's not handsome, that's okay - he's a good guy who's going to take care of her (we can get into the other stereotypes of this song later - women needing men to complete them, I know, I know - we're focusing on one double standard at a time).  Now, let's look at the same lyrics when the song is sung by a MAN:

There's a somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that she turns out to be
Someone to watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me

Although I may not be the man some girls think of
As handsome, to my heart
She carries the key

Recap: in this version, sung by a man, he's looking for a woman to complete him.  So far, we are simply reversing the lyrics sung by a woman.  BUT, notice he is *not* saying the reciprocal of the female version in that last stanza, which would be "Although she may not be the girl some men think of as handsome" - instead, the song leaves the guy as the unhandsome one, thus implying that it would be unacceptable for the woman not to be pretty.

Now, I'm probably reading wayyyyy too much into a simple song, but it's symptomatic of a culture that prizes only one type of beauty - the super skinny model kind.  As someone who admittedly doesn't fit that model of beauty, I find it disturbing that in small and big ways we reinforce the message that women must be beautiful (as the magazines define it) in order to be admired or worth pursuing.  How do we fix it?  Can we? Maybe we can fix it by admiring women for something other than physical beauty.  So, look for women who are courageous, honest, happy, or kind, and praise them for that inner strength and beauty.  It's time to look beyond our cultural blinders!  I hope we can still appreciate a great melody, right?  Especially when it's sung by a woman with a beautiful singing voice:

Ella Fitzgerald, "Someone to Watch Over Me"

*Note that I'm NOT saying that these things (makeup, high heels, nice clothes) are wrong - if you enjoy them, that's great!  I just object to having them be THE standard of beauty for women, and reinforcing the idea that if women choose other things, her natural look is somehow less beautiful.
**And yes, some of this is probably sour grapes, because I still have never figured out how to walk in heels or apply eye makeup successfully.

Friday, My Friend

Remember back when I committed to write a post every Monday?  Yeah, me neither (obviously).  Maybe next week I will finally find the right words for the posts I've been planning, but for now, I am just glad it's Friday.  This song has been rolling around in my head this week - enjoy!  May you all have glorious weekends :)

Anna Kendrick, "When I'm Gone"

Check Yourself, Before You...

Two simple words: Background Checks.  Why do we think it's a good idea for people to be able to buy a lethal weapon without undergoing a simple background check?  Is it really a sensible idea for people to buy guns without restraint?  I don't think so, and I haven't yet heard a cogent argument against background checks.  As always, I am open to being convinced if such an argument exists!

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
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As a wise poet once said, "You better check yo self before you wreck yo self."  Checking people out is just common sense - you have to do it on every job application you will fill out!  Why is there a higher bar for a job at a fast food joint than purchasing a weapon that can KILL?

The second amendment to our constitution does allow individuals to own firearms.  Yet this is not a universal right - we restrict the right of felons to own guns and most states limit access by the mentally ill.  These limitations suggest to me that gun ownership is a right that can have reasonable restrictions placed upon it.  A simple background check seems like a reasonable restriction.  Of course, this step is not going to stop all gun crimes.  I realize that criminals can have other people buy weapons for them.  Which is why we need additional laws to punish gun traffickers and provide funding for such investigations.

I think of weapons as a continuum - suppose at one end is a pocketknife, and the other end is a nuclear weapon.  Now, think about what weapons individuals should be able to own.  We do not allow individuals to own tanks or nuclear weapons.  Such an idea would be ridiculous and dangerous to public safety.  So gun control is also about drawing a line somewhere on that continuum and saying that individuals cannot own certain weapons.  My position is that machine guns, high capacity magazines, and other HIGHLY lethal weapons used in mass shootings should be illegal.

For America, I think it is important to discuss where the line on the continuum should be drawn.  We have many thousands of people in this country who die every year at the hands of a gun.  We need to thoughtfully examine what policies can prevent this.  The dead could be your brother, your sister, your mom, or your dad.  All of the victims are your neighbors.  Gun violence is a horrific problem, and we owe it to the many innocent victims to do all we can to stop these tragedies from occurring!

Memorial to the victims of the mass shooting in Newtown, CT

I've linked to one episode of The Daily Show's series on Australian gun control above, you can watch the other two parts of the series here.   .  

The Pineapple Principle

I've recently finished reading "What My Mother Gave Me" - a collection of essays by women writers on memorable gifts from their mothers.  Although it is probably too late to get this for your mom for Mother's day, I HIGHLY recommend the book.  I may be slightly biased because my aunt wrote one of the essays, but I do like that some of the authors have bad relationships with their mothers, because it means the book isn't a smarmy Hallmark type book.  It caused me to reflect on the many gifts, tangible and intangible, that my mother has given me over the years.  She gave up a paid job to raise me and my three brothers, so there's obviously the invaluable gift of time.  But I decided to write this Mother's Day post about something I'll call the "Pineapple Principle."

A lot of memories from my childhood involve large parties.  In the spring, summer, and fall, our screen porch could be filled with more than 20 people enjoying a meal, chatting, and laughing, with kids running out to the backyard to jump on the trampoline, catch fireflies, and play games.  In winter, parties spilled out of the dining and living rooms into basement.  Delicious food emanated forth from the small galley kitchen, which often produced dozens and dozens of handmade rolls for these parties.  A deep freezer (and later, additional fridge) meant that there was plenty of storage space, and plenty of leftovers for guests to take home.

As I remember it, there was always room for one more at the table, and new members of our church congregation found themselves asked to dinner.  My parents had a soft spot for those who would be alone on holidays, and several single members of our congregation became "regulars" at Easters, Thanksgivings and Christmases at our house.  I won't pretend that I enjoyed every aspect of this.  Church ended at noon, and on the drive home my mom laid out the plan of attack, listing the chores that needed to be completed by each of us in order to have dinner ready in time.

It wasn't until years later that I learned the term "hostess neurosis," but it fits my mom.  Before parties (especially in the final minutes before guest arrival) she could become a frenzy of activity.  A steady stream of commands issued forth, with admonitions to clean up toys, put things away, set the table, vacuum, dust, etc.  Sometimes I would wonder, why does she bother?  Why have these parties if it causes so much trouble?  With much murmuring, my brothers and I would help - up until our friends arrived, and then we were gone.

When the guests arrived, my mom transformed into the gracious hostess - her tone of voice much lighter.  Our house was probably never as clean as she would have liked, and there was usually still work to be done on the dinner (which was okay, because somebody was always late).  Yes, there were times when the rolls burned or something didn't turn out well.  But my mom gave a good party - the food was plentiful and delicious, and home felt home-y.  She and my dad seemed to be able to pull the good stories out of people and get them to laugh at good jokes.

I'm not sure when the pineapple became a fixture in this pantheon of parties.  It was my mom's "go-to" appetizer - a pineapple, sliced into chunks, with each chunk skewered on a toothpick along with a raspberry or blueberry.  Simple to prepare, but visually pretty because of the colors, it's a perfectly refreshing snack.  A little bit exotic somehow, yet also wonderfully ordinary.  Not too long ago, I found myself helping my mom slice and prepare thirty pineapples for a friend's wedding reception.  It's become a standard Mom dish, one that I will always associate with her.

Pineapples are a symbol of hospitality.*  So it's fitting that I tend to associate them with my mom.  When Paul is telling the saints how to behave like saints in the New Testament, he urges them to be "...given to hospitality" (Romans 12:13).  It's a verse that I've written "MOM" next to in my scriptures, because she exhibits that sense of hospitality.  The Pineapple Principle is one of hospitality and giving.

The Pineapple Principle means that I can never invite "just one" person over for dinner.  It includes the hostess neurosis and associated shortness of temper, along with the ability to make large quantities of food in a small kitchen.  The Pineapple Principle gives me the reflex to ask "What can I bring?" when I am invited to a party.  It's a gift that makes me come early to set up or stay late to wash dishes.**  It means that I bring the pineapple to my work Christmas party every year.

The Pineapple Principle has taught me to focus less on myself and my often imperfect cooking, and more on creating a space for laughter and togetherness.  My house, too, will probably never be as clean as I would like (it's the "lived-in look" as my mom says, "instead of the magazine perfect look").  But that's no reason to shy away from opening my doors.  I do, and it usually involves pineapples.  So this Mother's Day, I will have my mom over for dinner.  My dad is in charge of the pineapple this time.


*Apparently, the pineapple's symbolism is a myth.  No matter!  Slight exaggeration is a genetic trait that happens to run in my family.
**Okay, I'm really making myself sound like a saint here, but I sometimes think it's the Curse of the Pineapples, because it imbues me with a sense of duty to help with any party.  And I don't always listen to it, either.  But I know the voice in my head urging me to help is the Pineapple Principle.

Irrrrrreland!

With any luck, this will post automatically right around the time I am looking at this:

I'm in Ireland for vacation, still trying to recover my sanity a little bit.  I sometimes feel like my life lurches from chaos to insanity to disaster.  Whenever I think of chaos, I think of a poem by William Butler Yeats.  I think it's appropriate to share it here, because (a) Yeats was Irish, and (b) it's National Poetry month.  Enjoy!

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

- William Butler Yeats

If anyone can explain to me sufficiently what the last stanza of the poem is talking about, I would appreciate it.  I vacillate on whether I understand this poem or not, I just feel like the first stanza is an accurate description of chaos.  In the meantime, look forward to posts I have planned on gun control, sequester, and other issues of the day.  Also, brace yourselves - the Ireland Pictures are coming soon to a blog near you!

Tax to the Max

Today in the United States, it's tax day (or at least, it is for those individuals who choose to file on time).  It's a time when tax accountants like myself do this:

Yes, I am happy to be done with busy season, which actually hasn't been too terrible this year.  But still, happy to be done.

On a more serious note, however, I am really grateful that taxes provide the following things, among many others:
- Clean Drinkable Water
- Public Education
- Food inspections
- Roads, Public Transit systems
- Protection of my minority religion and free speech rights
- Public defense

Could government do a better job at all of these things?  Of course!  But the point is that there is always something we could do better!  I'm grateful to live in America on this tax day.  And true to form, I approve of the income tax system (as do most Democrats in a recent poll).  Of course it could be a lot better and simpler than it is, but then I would be out of a job.  So go ahead, complain about paying taxes - it's your right as Americans.

Meanwhile, I'll just be over here, dancing a jig and grateful that busy season is over (for a while, at least).

Iron, Lady

You may have heard by now that Margaret Thatcher, the "Iron Lady" of Britain, passed away today at age 87.  She was the first (and so far the only) female prime minister of the U.K.  While I listened to the news on my way into work this morning, it was a teensy bit jarring to hear her described as a "statesman."  She was a stateswoman, thank you very much.  It reminded me of just how embedded it is in our culture to assume that the man is the leader.  Many pronouns - "chairman," "congressman," "spokesman" to name a few - assume that the leader is a male.  Syntax (and punctuation, see below!) matter.  We often take this gender exclusive language without thinking about it, but it never seemed to occur to "Maggie" that she wasn't fit for leadership.  She just assumed that she knew what to do, and went about getting it done.

Baroness Thatcher and I disagree on many things.  However, I greatly admire her toughness and resolve in the face of obstacles - she had the courage of her convictions.  I like what Roger Ebert said about seeing her in a room full of powerful men: “Invisible psychic threads of respect and yearning extended toward her from the men,” he wrote. “When she spoke, they fell silent….It was the most remarkable display of personal authority I have ever seen.”

In a world that too often told women to "iron, lady" (i.e. stay home) she was instead an Iron Lady who wanted to lead.  She wasn't afraid that it wasn't ladylike, or that she might offend people by standing up for herself.  She simply saw the problem and thought she had the solution.

Margaret Thatcher Addresses Congress, 1985

You can read the full text of her speech here.  RIP, Maggie.  Thank you for being a strong, determined woman who had the courage to lead - you inspire stateswomen on both sides of the political spectrum to enter the arena and let our voices be heard.