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Posts Tagged "sexism"

  • Yes, this is your author. Inspires a LOT of confidence, doesn't it?

    I was at Readercon last year, but knew nothing of the harassment of Genvieve Valentine until I got home.

    Yeah, the thought of that happening made me mad, as it obviously should. No man should reach adulthood and feel that kind of freedom to harass another human being. Social pressure should have been exerted on that individual from the moment he started exhibiting sings of such aggression.

    Yeah, the thought of it all made me embarrassed on behalf of my other cock-wielding humans. As it should.

    You know what made me feel the most anger and embarrassment, however? Just after the harassment became public knowledge, there were a couple dude-bros — inevitably; dude-bros ruin everything — who opened their goddamn mouths to say something along the lines of, “If only I’d been there, I would’ve done something.”

    Yeah? What would you have done? Defended poor, weak little Genevieve?

    With all due respect (which isn’t much): Fuck you, you failures at life. Put your dicks back in your pants.

    The only time you should be stepping in and helping someone is when their well-being is threatened — when a person is in danger and unable to defend themself. Or when they ask for help. Even then, you’ll probably make the situation worse.

    But here’s the important thing: That scenario has nothing to do with the victim’s sex, the assailant’s sex, or — and here’s the kicker — your sex.

    Yeah, really.

    Genevieve didn’t need any extra help from the penises; if you paid even the slightest attention to her posts on the incident, you’d know she had plenty of supporters with her — supporters she hardly needed, because she handled herself with strength and aplomb.

    #

    I don’t bring this up to go over what has already been gone over, again and again, by others more literate and knowledgeable than I. No, I bring it up because I think such interactions are a good representation of the sophistication of many — far too many — male geeks when confronted with a vagina’d individual:

    BREASTS
    =
    VAGINA / BUTT / LEGS
    =
    ALIEN
    or
    GODDESS
    or
    WHORE
    or
    MOTHER
    = (eventually)
    WOMAN
    or
    GIRL (as their known near-ubiquitously to such men — ahem — boys)
    =
    OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN IT’S A GIRL LOOK
    IT’S BOOBS AND UNDER THERE THERE’S A
    SNATCH AND STARE STARE STARE STARE
    =
    CREEPER SNAPSHOT
    or
    INAPPROPRIATE COME-ON
    or (if he’s one of those shy Nice Guys)
    WILDLY MISOGYNISTIC COMMENT LATER ON WOW FORUM

    I’d love, absolutely love, to have a more positive view, but despite any forward momentum gained (and no one will deny that there’s been some), this last year’s been yet another confirmation that male geek “culture” is producing maladjusted individuals at a disappointingly robust rate. I hardly need to provide links; male geeks behaving badly toward female geeks has been all the rage over the interwebs.

    It’s disappointing as hell, frankly. It’s one of the few things that makes me want to be part of another scene.

    #

    Don’t get me wrong: I’m not immune to my culture, geeky or otherwise. I’m not now claiming — nor would I ever claim — that I always act consistently with my stated beliefs. Sometimes, I think sexist thoughts. Disappointingly often, I say things or make assumptions based on these sexist thoughts. It’s an ongoing struggle to unlearn what my culture has told me about the differences between women and men. It’s even harder to let go of the privilege I’ve been born to just because I’ve got a dick and can grow a (neck)beard.

    Wha--? A woman? But this is MY Christopher Nolan Batman Trilogy forum! I smeared poop on my computer to prevent things like this from happening!

    But I keep on with the struggle.

    Why? Because I don’t want to view women as less than they are, and — far more importantly — I don’t want women to be held back by my (and my bejohnsoned peers’) prejudice.

    If someone as immature, as indoctrinated, as neuronally-slow as me gets this — or, at the very least, sees that the disparity is entirely unjust and harmful and that something should be done about it — why is it so hard for others to make even a rudimentary effort to change their mindsets?

    Why do so many refuse to see that there’s a problem at all? Why do so many insist that fandom is diverse and welcoming, when the limits of this claim are so clearly defined? Why must there be all this fucking butthurt when a righteous volley is launched at the walls of the palace of geekdom? Do male geeks not realize that self-criticism is necessary for growth?

    But maybe these geeks don’t want to grow up. Maybe it’s more urgent to them that they keep the wiminz out of the borders of their ever shrinking kingdoms than reevaluate their prejudice.

    Maybe the right to tell a boob joke without reprisal is just that important to them.

    #

    If any of the above seems too harsh to any of you guys reading, then you can kindly pull your scrotum up over your head, click the Exit button, and go back to living blind, calcifying in a room that reeks of sweat, masturbation, Cheetos, and failure.

    Real people — no, I won’t say real men — face the charges coming at them. They FIX SHIT.

    I’m angry; I think this is clear. The subject enrages me because I fucking love the science fiction, fantasy, and horror folks who have adopted me with open arms. (For years, I was alone in my geekdom, a silent observer. Only in the last three years have a I really come out.) I’m upset because I’m aware that those arms would likely have been a little less open to me if I were a woman (or a person of color, or a non-cisgendered individual, etc.). I’m upset, basically, because there is a situation under our noses that demands action, and so many people are denying it exists.

    I’m pissed because I KEEP TALKING and — moreover — feeling largely justified for doing so. It’s easy to feel you have an audience when you’re whole life you’ve been made to feel important because you’re a man, and white, and…

    Yeah. It’s all a big unfair mess. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that guys like Scott Lynch speak up against bigots, but for all the attention he’s received you’d think he invented cold fusion. Why aren’t more women being celebrated for knocking in the teeth of gross fanboys?

    I’ll tell you why. It’s because the most vocal part of our community is made comfortable by the knowledge that the act of righteousness comes from a verifiably male (and white, and cisgendered) source. This group of geeks gets to pat itself on the back for being so amazingly buttkickingly awesome, all without having to confront the nasty OTHER.

    #

    Ah, shit. Whatever. I’m going to wrap this up, because I’ve just reread what I wrote and become disgusted by my overabundance of words and self-righteousness. I won’t erase it, however, because I think it’s just enough to prove my point that male geeks are still doing too much of the talking where women are concerned in this community.

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  • A picture of me dancing around the vaguely amused author David Anthony Durham, offered as a means to brighten your mood just before bringing it down again with my negativity.

    Pet Peeves? Of the authorial/writerly sort, I assume?

    (Yes, I know the topic to the right very clearly reads “Pet Peeves in Writing,” but I only saw this after I’d finished writing/shitting this post. I’m pretty sure the email I received just specified “Pet Peeves” as the topic, but it’s entirely possible that I purposely misread it so that I could be allowed to complain about authors. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which scenario is true.)

    Oh, now you’ve done it. You’ve gone and given me—literally and figuratively—the worst topic you could’ve given me. Why is it the worst? Because now I feel justified going on a rant. That’s bad for me, but even worse for you: I’m just awful when I get this kind of podium. You’re gonna hate it.

    I’d like to not get into it, but I’m powerless, perfectly powerless, to stop myself. But I will restrict myself to five.

    What? Only five!

    Yes, only five. Otherwise I might burst into flame.

    Anyway, I hope you like swearing. Here goes:

    #

    1. When authors conflate their identities as “fated artists” in order to separate themselves from “normals.”

    Ugh. I absolutely hate this. Is it not enough to be published; you have to go around constantly telling everyone how you were born to be a writer?

    I mean, seriously: Fuck. Off.

    A writer is not an extra-special sort of creature fated to the pure act of storytelling. No, he or she is merely a person who is compelled to sit down and write, and maybe thereafter edit and submit. Sure, perhaps some people are born with greater intelligence, or, I don’t know, “narrative drive,” but that’s not a direct path to Author.

    What irks me immensely is how authors use this self-designation (knowingly or not) to separate themselves from all the shlubs who don’t write. “Oh, yeah, I was born to do this,” basically means, “Oh, yeah, and you weren’t, dipshit.” It’s the classic way for a self-conscious wannabe-artist motherfucker to legitimize herself or himself.

    On that note…

    #

    2. When authors use semi-mystical terms to describe their process.

    I bet you’ve heard an author say something stupid like this: “I didn’t intend to create the character of Klak-Tiku’Manis in Pegasus Kings of Unicorn Hill. My characters spoke through me and demanded his creation.”

    Gag me with a goddamn spoon. Seriously.

    You are not the Oracle of Delphi, Mr. or Ms. Author. Unless you literally believe yourself to be channeling some arcane/supernatural force when you write—in which case I’ll just shake my head in atheistic wonder—you are simply responding to your own still small voice in your head that all of us respond to without being entirely aware. Call these the urgings of the unconscious mind if you want, but don’t act as if you are being led by creations of your own, uh, creation.

    But anyway, why do I hate this so much? Well, largely for the same reason that I hate the previous pet peeve: using semi-mystical terms is another way authors separate themselves from non-writers (or from other, less enlightened, authors).

    At first, it may seem that saying your characters speak through you is a modest position: “I am but a humble vessel.” But I think that’s bullshit. Saying you’re a vessel is the same as saying you are communicating on a higher level than others—that you are the bearer of special knowledge—that some force is demanding that you, oh-so-special-you, need continue being a Writer.

    Shut the hell up. You’re an embarrassment to people who do the hard work of writing without using stupid and falsely humble (not to mention irrational) explanations to prop themselves up.

    #

    3. When authors tell other folks how to write “properly.”

    Okay, first off: advice is fine. If people seek it, by all means give it. Same goes for if you write a book and people buy it—clearly, they want what advice you have to offer.

    The operative words above are, “seek,” “give,” and “offer.” Unless advice is sought after, don’t give it. If you have advice to offer, by all means offer it as opposed to throwing it in the other person’s face.

    Yes. This is my impressed face. Your advice was THAT good.

    A little story to illustrate why it drives me nuts when a person doesn’t understand these distinctions: I’ve got a very good writer friend, a person whose company I really enjoy (and still enjoy, regardless of this one hiccup). A couple years ago, she was still working on a book—a book she’d been working on for some years—while I had recently completed my first draft of No Return. This minor disparity did not stop her from often advising me about how to write more often and at greater length. She insisted that my writing would be better if I just let go of the inner critic and wrote, putting the editing off until later.

    Now, I didn’t tell her how greatly this annoyed me because—well, what would’ve been the point? Perhaps she was right, and that my writing would improve dramatically if I switched up my approach. But… I had just finished my first novel, largely to my satisfaction (and eventual sale), while she still continued to struggle with hers. Though I wouldn’t usually let this fact influence my judgment of her (I mean, hey, I didn’t complete any of my writing projects for the first 25 years of my life! Who’m I to judge someone else for not being finished with something?), in this context it simply exacerbated my annoyance.

    I mean, who was she to tell me my process wasn’t working as well as it could? And over and over again, ad nauseum!

    Hopefully, it’s clear why that situation annoyed me, but there’s a deeper reason beyond the delivery (and the timing of the delivery) why such advice grinds my gears. It’s because giving the advice presumes that there is a proper way to write, when obviously—demonstrably—there isn’t. I know a great many people will say that it “works better this way,” but there are a great many people who produce wonderful (and mediocre and awful) work in another way entirely.

    #

    4. When (male; often fantasy) authors can’t write female characters.

    Jesus. Seriously? Because a character has a vagina you’re writing skills fall out of your butt?

    It’s a fucking person, for fuck’s sake—not an alien.

    Writing a woman need not require any special contortions or anything. Okay, it might involve being aware of your own prejudices and how they infect your writing, but becoming aware of your own prejudices is all part of becoming an adult.

    Oh— What? You can become an adult and still be a complete and utterly obvious bigot (and still get published)…?

    #

    5. When (male; often fantasy) authors can’t write female characters, and oh-by-the-way rape them over and over again in their fiction. (Yeah, this is an old pet peeve of many authors and readers, but it still happens all the time.)

    Once more—and with real feeling, this time—seriously? What you are if you do this is a piece of shit mixed with bloody snot. What you are is a gross little manchild who can’t conceive of developing a female character without the trauma of rape in her past. You are an uncreative bigot, and you’ve probably got genital warts.

    And don’t start with the realism shit, idiot. You’ve got dragons flying all over the place and people throwing purple thunderbolts, so clearly you’re not that interested in realism. No, what you are interested in is the realism of rape. You need to make sure you portray your society as actively, rapishly, rapetastic.

    Because why?

    Oh, I don’t know, because you’ve utterly failed to look inside yourself and excise those ugly, misogynistic little bits? Because you’ve managed perfectly to internalize without interrogation the privilege you were born to? Because you’re just shit at life?

    Yeah, those reasons.

    Now, please don’t get me wrong; there are valid reasons to put a rape scene or several in a story. But a pattern of doing so without a compelling—and compassionate—reason marks you as venereal slime.

    #

    Okay, I’d better actually stop at five like I vowed to, because my clothes are beginning to smoke. Hopefully, I’ve not offended anyone too much with my language or my ridiculously strident pronouncements. I spoke with great certainty about people’s intentions, and obviously I can’t read those.

    Still, I’m not wrong. (This is how a reasonable person thinks, right?)

    See you next week, xox and all that!

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  • Sex. Many feel it simply has no place in fantasy, and when they find it there, it’s just like the old Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup commercial – hey! You got sex in my story! – but without the happy resolution. It all depends on the story being told. A person can write a rip-roaring tale of heroes caught in romantic adventures without having to find a way to describe bodies bumping. Others may differ.

    Does sex matter? Sex is part of most of our lives, and certainly not an unimportant one. Our government sees fit to legislate where it can and cannot occur, and what percentage of nipple can appear on our television screens. It’s codified, controlled, and explosively popular: sex propelled Fifty Shades of Grey to the bestseller list and earns the pornography industry $14 billion a year. I would say yes. Sex matters.

    There are many ways to talk about sex in books. One is the craft of the actual scenes which I suspect would be boring to read about. Another is the purpose of sex in the book – what it is meant to convey. Yet another is the societal overtones of that sex, from unconscious Puritanism and sexism to post-colonial biases.

    So where does one begin to unravel sex in our literature? Certainly the temptation is to leave it be. Art is not exactly meant to make sense of our lives – only ask questions or find beauty in it. The great mystery of sex – what it means to each of us and to the characters and world of a book – is only one of a great many riddles in any good story. And yet there persists the worry that something harmful could be there, something twisted, that begs to be opened and put into the sunlight. (more…)

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  • Most fantasy authors choose a low-tech setting for their alternate worlds. Without going into the reasons for that, which are themselves fascinating and sometimes illogical, I will go straight to the result: by choosing low-tech we catapult ourselves backwards into history, often choosing to build a society that is less progressive than our own.

    This ensures your mages reign supreme over swords and arrows (although some medieval weapons were badass, if you ask me) – but that’s not the only reason to do it. The more road blocks you can put in front of a character, the better. Readers tend to identify with the underdog, the person who is struggling against great injustices,  and therefore what’s better than putting him in a society where things are unequal?

    But then we get to the women. Romance gets complicated when you have a historically-adjacent setup of empowered males and disempowered females. In the United States, where this blog resides, women constitute 51% of the population but make up only 17% of congress, and they continue to struggle for control of their own reproduction. We moderns have not succeeded in working out our own issues, so portraying them is tricky. What’s worse is that romance in itself – its tradition of broody men and devoted women – is a ‘how not to’ guide for our daughters. (more…)

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