Part 1 in a series

The online platform turned national organization project — Black Lives Matter — started as a call to action against anti-Black racism following the acquittal of George Zimmerman, the neighborhood watch volunteer who fatally shot unarmed black teenager Trayvon Martin.

According to The New York Times, the jury rejected the prosecution’s argument that Zimmerman deliberately pursued and started what became a lethal fight with Martin because he assumed he was a criminal. The verdict wasn’t a surprise, certainly not to black people who have experienced and/or witnessed similar outcomes over and over again. Alicia Garza, a co-creator of Black Lives Matter, explained in a Colorlines interview:

A lot of what we were seeing on Facebook and in our conversations was, “I knew they would never convict [Zimmerman]. He would never go to jail.” For us, it wasn’t actually about using the criminal justice system to solve our issues. For us, it’s really about asking, “Do black lives matter in our society?” and what do we need to do to make that happen. We know that someone going to jail is not going to make black lives matter. What’s going to make those lives matter is working hard for an end to state violence in black communities, knowing that that’s going to benefit all communities.

The hashtag #BlackLivesMatter soon became a rallying call. Within days of tweeting it out, Garza teamed up with Patrisse Cullors, executive director of the Coalition to End Police Violence in L.A. Jails, and Opal Tometi, who runs the Black Alliance for Just Immigration. Together, these women started a dialogue about what it means to be black in this country, to be the target of a system of anti-Black racism.

The persistent, strained relationship between law enforcement and African Americans that has led to a string of police-related incidents and fatalities is part of that system. The fatal shooting of yet another unarmed, black teenager in Ferguson, Missouri, followed by yet another grand jury decision not to indict the white police officer who shot him, begs the question again: Don’t black lives matter?

Recurring incidents like these across the country shine a dim light on the everyday biases and racial, political, and socio-economic structures that uphold racial inequalities and privilege whiteness. But Black Lives Matter is not just about racism; it’s about anti-Black racism.

At this critical time, we, as social scientists, have an opportunity not only to support those seeking transparency, accountability, and safety in their communities, we can examine ourselves, and be proactive in our own work.

What biases do we hold? How do we help to perpetuate racism in our institutions, and specifically anti-Black racism? How might we engage in critical dialogue in ways that will transform our institutions to make black lives matter? What actions can we take to support this growing movement, not only through our classroom teaching, but also informally in our work with students, in our research and how we use that research, in our public sociology, and for some, in direct action?

We’ll be reflecting on these questions here. Please share yours. And we will continue the discussion in the next few blog posts.

Read the entire Black Lives Matter Series on Feminist Reflections

• Part 1: Don’t Black Lives Matter? by Gayle Sulik
• Part 2: How Sociologists Can Support Black Lives Matter by Mindy Fried
• Part 3: An Open Letter to Student Activists by Meika Loe
• Part 4: Racism is not Dead: Language And Everyday Interactions by Trina Smith

More Information:

On the movement:

• A Herstory of the #BlackLivesMatter Movement by Alicia Garza, The Feminist Wire, Oct. 7, 2014.
• Facing Race Spotlight: Organizer Alicia Garza on Why Black Lives Matter, by Jamilah King, Colorlines, Oct. 9, 2014.
• Meet the BART-stopping woman behind “Black Lives Matter” by Heather Smith, grist, Dec. 4, 2014.
• The Unprecedented Scale of the #BlackLivesMatter Protests by Kriston Capps, The Atlantic, Dec. 5, 2014.
• #FergusonNext: Here’s how to end the school-to-prison pipeline, starting now by Katherine Krueger, The Guardian, Dec. 10, 2014.
• The Disruption This Time by L.A. Kauffman, The Baffler, Dec. 7, 2014.
• An Open Letter of Love to Black Students: #BlackLivesMatter, Black Space, Dec. 8, 2014.
• Hands Up Don’t Shoot, a mini-documentary which includes interviews from students and faculty from the UMass Amherst campus discussing the issue of the young, black, and unarmed gunned down by the police.
• Women of Color on #BlackLivesMatter, Gender, and Racism, Third Wave Fund, Dec. 11, 2014.

Related:

• Class, Race, Gender and U.S. Policing by Michelle Renee Matisons, Black Agenda Report, Dec. 10, 2014.
• ‘The Alarm Bells are Ringing’: From Athletes to Environmentalists, a Universal Call for Racial Justice Emerges, Common Dreams, Dec. 9, 2014.
• The new threat: ‘Racism without racists’ by John Blake, CNN, Nov. 27, 2014.
• Black Congressional Staffers Plan Ferguson, Garner Walkout by Tim Mak, The Daily Beast, Dec. 10, 2014.
• We Must Stop Police Abuse of Black Men by Eric Adams, The New York Times, Dec. 4, 2014.
• Unarmed People of Color Killed by Police, 1999-2014 by Rich Juzwiak and Aleksander Chan, Gawker, Dec. 9, 2014.
• Where Do We Go After Ferguson? by Michael Eric Dyson, The New York Times, Nov. 29, 2014.
• Here’s the Data That Shows Cops Kill Black People at a Higher Rate Than White People, Jaeah Lee, Mother Jones, Sep. 10, 2014.

Reflections from The Society Pages:

• A Sign of Progress: Michael Brown Could Not Be “Willie Hortoned” by Elizabeth Rapaport, Dec. 9, 2014.
• Racism, Punishment and the Lives of Young Men of Color by C.J. Pascoe, Dec. 3, 2014.
• Ferguson and Football by Doug Hartman, Dec. 2, 2014.
• Anti-Consuming Ferguson by David A. Banks, Dec. 1, 2014.
• When Force is Hardest to Justify, Victims of Police Violence Are Most Likely to be Black by Lisa Wade, Nov. 28, 2014.
• Covering the Three Missouri Michaels by Steven Thrasher, Nov. 26, 2014.
• Ferguson, The Morning After by Doug Hartman, Nov. 25, 2014.
• Reflecting on Ferguson by Evan Steward, Aug. 26, 2014.
• Teaching Ferguson by Todd Beer, Aug. 25, 2014.

How white people can fight racism:

• The White Conversation on Race by Carla Murphy, Colorlines, Dec. 9, 2014.
• Some tips for white people who have opinions about Ferguson by Juliana Britto Schwartz, Feministing, Dec. 10, 2014.
• 10 Simple Ways White People Can Step Up to Fight Everyday Racism by Derrick Clifton, Everyday Feminism, Sep. 27, 2014.
• Ferguson: White Bodies Bearing Witness by Jenny Davis, The Society Pages, Nov. 28, 2014.
• Ferguson Syllabus from Sociologists for Justice, Aug. 23, 2014.

On Protesting:

Google the words “Beyoncé and Feminism” and you get a mind-blowing number of hits. (Go ahead, Google it, I can wait…)

There’s been a flood of questions about the topic ever since the pop star opened up about her new brand of modern-day feminism in Vogue.UK. Is Beyoncé a feminist? Isn’t Beyoncé a feminist? Is Beyoncé’s brand of feminism “real?” Does it help or hurt the Feminist project? What happens if everyone becomes a Feminist?! Would this dismantle everything we know about feminism? Won’t someone please make the official declaration so we can all go back to watching cats on YouTube!

Maybe things aren’t so desperate. But the chatter about Beyoncé and her feminism— in the wake of the 2013 release of the Beyoncé Visual Album and the image of Bey standing in front of a giant, glowing “Feminist” sign during her 15-minute performance at the 2014 MTV Video Music Awards — certainly created a rift among some groups of feminists and others.

The Beyoncé-Feminism debates have had an almost Kinsey-Scale feel to them: from extreme arguments about Beyoncé’s use of her body and sexuality as a form of terrorism for Black women (see discussion with bell hooks) to declarations that Beyoncé is a bad influence on all good girls and women, including married women and their husbands, and children (see comments from Bill O’Reilly). In the middle of the scale, we have folks who acknowledge that Beyoncé’s image and music may/may not run contradictory to what is/is not Feminist.

More interesting to me is the way this conversation is affecting pop culture. Suddenly, talking about feminism and discussing how patriarchy affects society is okay, even encouraged.

Women’s function in pop music has mostly been as eye candy. Look good. Do what you’re told. Sing the song created by a male production team. Numerous books have chronicled the evolution of women in pop music. A few examples are Gender in the Music Industry by Marion Leonard, She Bop II by Lucy O’Brien, and my book Sing Us a Song, Piano Woman: Female Fans and the Music of Tori Amos). These books share a theme: if a woman bares her body she will be judged from those chasing a standard of purity and from feminists who see this action as submission to the male gaze. Even though it is missing from the debates, this is where I see the contention: Beyoncé is challenging the passivity of the male gaze, setting a foundation for a new wave of feminists who simultaneously celebrate their bodies and provide cunning intellectual fodder.

Listening to Beyoncé’s self-titled album, we hear a woman speak about marriage, sex, motherhood, post-partum depression, religion, death, miscarriage, revolution, feminism, and her identity as a Black woman. We hear this woman authoritatively express her views and define them on her own terms. While some bristle at Beyoncé using her body as a means of seduction, for example in her “Partition” video, the song expresses the inner thoughts and feelings of many women who have concerns about men’s expectations of sex. In the song “Flawless,” Bey sings lines like, “I took some time to live my life/but don’t think I’m just his little wife” and then launches into a spoken word piece by renowned Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie who illustrates the dynamic of struggle for many women and girls: “We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls, “You can have ambition, but not too much. You should aim to be successful but not too successful. Otherwise you will threaten the man.” In the song “Mine,” with lines that address post-partum depression and concerns about her marriage, Beyoncé presents a multi-dimensional portrait of life. To me, this all sounds feminist.

Women’s identities are largely missing in pop music because the genre is so focused on one-note presentations of womanhood. But Beyoncé’s songs have become anthems for many women because they are written from an “I” perspective that speaks to the messiness of women’s lives. We all have contradictions, even feminists, that may make us seem less perfect in the ways we live out our vision of the world. To argue that Beyoncé is/is not feminist because of a song she sings, something she wears, or the way she carries herself on stage may be counter-productive. There is a reason why so many feminists were amazed and bewildered to see Beyoncé stand in front of that neon “Feminist” sign. The act was defiant, declarative, and gave a new generation of women a gateway to feminism.

The Beyoncé-Feminism debates beg the question: Will feminism get to a point where as long as the core is focused on equality, people (even entertainers) can “do feminism” in a way that makes sense to them without being judged? After all, many people with diverse political orientations agree on the principle of equality even if they have different ideas on how to get there. Feminism is more fluid than many of us would like to believe.

I’ve come to a decision. I think we want Beyoncé Knowles in the corner of feminism. She has the platform to shine a spotlight on issues related to women and girls (as she has done here and here). She has amassed such power through her music that when she speaks, people listen. She can rally people with a simple song release. To me, that is a feminist using her power constructively. And if there is a beat we can dance to, even better.
________________

Adrienne Trier-Bieniek PhD is a gender and pop culture sociologist. She is the author of Sing Us a Song, Piano Woman: Female Fans and the Music of Tori Amos (Scarecrow Press, 2013) and co-editor of Gender and Pop Culture: A Text-Reader (Sense, 2014). Her writing has appeared in various academic journals as well as xoJane, The Mary Sue, Gender & Society Blog, Feministing, and Girl w/Pen, and she runs the Facebook page Pop Culture Feminism. Adrienne Trier-Bieniek is a professor of sociology at Valencia College in Orlando, Florida.

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States, a holiday we as children learned to celebrate as “the founding of America.” Our story books described a time when the Pilgrims became friends with the Natives and they all shared a feast together. Many of us, including sociologists, know that Thanksgiving could just as easily be considered a “white-washed” and Americanized re-telling of this moment in history. Like Columbus Day where celebration of the founding of the country is cast in patriotic terms, most people ignore, forget, or never knew about the oppressive history of this country’s founding.

So, today is Thanksgiving:

A day many of us eat turkey and pumpkin pie, and watch football.

A day of gendered roles and norms.

A day of rituals.

A day for family.

A day to be thankful.

A day ripe for feminist sociological analysis.

How do we hold a critical view of our nation’s history, acknowledge myths about family and gendered norms, and among other things, make sense of the partial truths that surround this holiday? How do we use a feminist sociological lens to see a more nuanced picture of a day many of us hold dear, understand the importance of rituals, and acknowledge our gratitude as human beings and feminist sociologists?

As contributing editors and guest bloggers of Feminist Reflections, we believe we do have much to be thankful for. So on this day — while acknowledging the cultural appropriation of the Thanksgiving holiday — we share why we are thankful for feminism, family rituals, gender transgressions, and stories that reveal resistance to cultural appropriation in its many forms.

Trina:

Oh the reasons to be thankful…

1)I am thankful for feminist mentors I have who understand the need for both support and sometimes a gentle nudge (or not so gentle) to move you forward. We are dispersed across the country (and world), but you are a phone call or email away and usually giving me advice in my head! Times are never going to be “easy”, but without you, I do not think I would have made this far in my own conceptualization of success.

2) I especially thankful for this wonderful group of bloggers at Feminist Reflections who have taught me about writing, blogging, support, you all, and myself. Your support and mentoring is priceless.

3) I am thankful to our feminist fore-mothers,who fought for so many rights, from the right to vote, reproductive choice, to the ability to attend college and graduate school.

4) I am privileged and thankful to have found my “soul-mate” of a friend in my short time in my new place. A friend who supports feminism, who supports social justice, and supports those around her. A friend I can talk to about the “mommy myths” and the reality of parenthood along with all the other stress of adulthood. A friend who all her WGS professors still remember! You are one of a kind and I am so thankful for you!

5)  And in speaking of feminism and thankfulness, I can’t leave out my family, from my “family of origin”, extended family, in-laws, and most importantly, to my spouse and children. My departed grandmothers were role models for their feminist granddaughter- working non-traditional jobs, marrying and having kids “late”, and being assertive, among other things. My parents, who never said I couldn’t be smart, a professor, or whatever I wanted to be because I was a girl. My spouse, who is my co-parent and made sacrifices so I could obtain my dream job. And who does the majority of the cooking, is not afraid to do our daughter’s hair, teaches our kids computer programming and how to cook, and who is a fantastic parent. And to my young children, in which I have watched you as a young “boy” and “girl” face gender socialization and questioning of our family’s social justice beliefs by some of your peers.  Thank you for standing up for social justice for all those who are oppressed and for not being afraid to “bend” gender or use gender neutral language, even though the other kids may not get it.  And for letting me teach you the truth of about some of the holidays often celebrated without attention to the hidden truths.

6) And I am thankful for my job, in which I get to work some of the most fantastic students and colleagues.

I wish all our Feminist Reflections readers an enjoyable holiday. I will not be cooking the turkey (which would be a disaster), but will be starting new rituals with my own family in a new place. And I hope on this day, we all can reflect and be thankful and supportive of those who have helped put food on our tables (farm workers), our family and friends, but also be cognizant of both the structural oppression many still face and hidden histories of this holiday, in order to join forces to advocate for social justice.

Amy:

Last New Year’s Eve, I declared that 2014 would be my “Year of Gratitude.” I would express gratitude each day with a brief post on Facebook, reflecting on what I was grateful for that day.

It was a marvelous experiment for a while. At first, it came with all of the intended consequences. It felt good thinking about what makes life wonderful. It felt good to recognize just how many supportive, cool, fun, hilarious, smart, and amazing people I have in my life. It felt good to take the time – every day – to reflect on something positive. My Facebook friends told me how much they appreciated the posts; that the posts encouraged them reflect on feeling gratitude, too. It felt good knowing gratitude was contagious.

Then I started worrying I’d forget to post. Then I actually did forget to post – more than once. Then I started getting anxious every night before bed. If I hadn’t yet thought of something to be grateful for that day, I’d have to do it before I could get any sleep. I thought about the friends I’d be letting down if I couldn’t come up with something… Every.Single.Day.

This went on for months. One day I cried to a friend, “My gratitude is bringing me down!” I told her how I worried I’d be letting people down if I stopped posting. How the worry over my posts was exhausting me but I didn’t want to disappoint my friends. She laughed, noting the irony. My intention had been simply to express – and feel – gratitude. Somehow I’d wound up in the position of feeling responsible for helping others experience the joys of gratitude. By September, I decided to let myself off the hook. I continued to reflect on and feel gratitude but I stopped feeling responsible for posting about it every darn day.

What a wonderful thing a daily, public expression of gratitude can be. But the reality, for me at least, didn’t reflect the idealized vision I’d constructed when I’d made the commitment months earlier. Adding yet another “must do” to an already jam-packed list of must-do’s didn’t have the effect I’d hoped for.

Finding balance and letting myself off the hook when things don’t go according to plan have been themes (and challenges!) for me this year. Having Feminist Reflections, a community of smart and inspiring feminist colleagues, has helped. It’s been such a joy to be reminded of the importance of thoughtful, critical reflection and discussion. And to share the load.

Feminism has helped in other ways, too. Feminism has given me the courage to say no when that’s what’s needed. And to change the plan when changing the plan is what’s needed. Feminism has helped me see that I’m not alone in the struggle to find balance. It has helped me understand that I am worthy of balance; I am worthy of self-care when that’s what’s needed.

I’m reminded of the words of Audre Lorde, from her 1988 collection A Burst of Light. Lorde wrote about self-care in a much different context but her statement rings true, I think, for anyone struggling to be kind to themselves and banish guilt over not doing enough. I’ll leave you with those words. I certainly am grateful for them.

“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” -Audre Lorde, A Burst of Light (1988)

Mindy:

I am thankful for my aging. Yes, I said it!

As I age, I realize that “aging well” is not about botox, eye serums and face lifts, although our consumerist economy would like us to believe that. It’s about eating well, exercising, staying intellectually engaged, and open to new people and ideas.

We live in a youth-oriented culture where even young women are getting botox as a preventative measure!  It’s time to reclaim our graying hair, our wrinkles and our sagging body parts. To love ourselves as we are…

Yes, I am thankful for my aging. Thankful indeed.

–Excerpted from “The Eye Serum Saga: A wrinkle in time is ultimately fine…” on Mindy’s Muses

Gayle:

When Trina first mentioned writing about feminism and gratitude, a specific set of words came rushing into my mind. They were lyrics written by one of my personal she-roes Ani Difranco in the song “Grand Canyon.”

i love my country
by which i mean
i am indebted joyfully
to all the people throughout its history
who have fought the government to make right
where so many cunning sons and daughters
our foremothers and forefathers
came singing through slaughter
came through hell and high water 
so that we could stand here
and behold breathlessly the sight
how a raging river of tears
cut a grand canyon of light

i mean
why can't all decent men and women
call themselves feminists?
out of respect 
for those who fought for this 
i mean, look around 
we have this

On this day of thanksgiving, I’m grateful to Ani D. for speaking so many of my truths. Every day, I am indebted joyfully to all the people who continue to fight the status quo in all of its peculiarities for the sheer purpose of making things right. And to all you decent men and women who call yourselves feminists… thank you for staking your claim to the greatest F-word ever!

Tristan:

I wanted to express gratitude today to this incredible community of feminist scholars of which I feel fortunate to be a part.  It began as a round table conversation at a Sociologists for Women in Society meeting.  And slowly, that idea turned into a new blog.  It’s still taking shape, but the collection of scholars who write here have enriched my life and my work and it’s a great honor to be involved.

I wanted to share a quote that I think about a great deal in writing for this blog.  It comes from Steven Whitehead’s Men and Masculinities: Key Themes and New Directions (2002).

The private lives of men and women are political. There is no aspect of our lives that is not caught up by the political. How we spend and negotiate our time in relationships is political. How we exercise our power at work and home is political. How we exercise our sexuality is political. How we educate is political. How we contribute to the myths of gender is political. The very language we use is political. To be gendered is to be political. It is not necessary to be a feminist or a member of the Christian promise-keepers to engage in this political condition. Such associations are simply a more direct expression of what goes on across all societies between all men and women in all cultures—daily. (Whitehead 2002: 148)

There is no aspect of our lives that is not caught up by the political.

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I wrote this post during the beginning of my second year in a Masters in Social Work (MSW) program (2012-13 academic year). Reading it now, I think I must have written it before I had interviewed and accepted my current job as an assistant professor, both of which happened in November 2012. I started my new job in fall 2013. The position I was hired for sought someone with a PhD in Sociology and a MSW, which I achieved, but not by taking a “normal” path.

I share my story here on Feminist Reflections to empathize with the struggles of graduate students and post-PhD adjuncts who are trying to find a job, most likely on an academic tenure track. Know that it took me two degrees and five years post-PhD in Sociology to find my fit in an academic institution. I also share this writing because I believe that in our academic field we tend to tie “success” to obtaining the much-coveted tenure track position. In reality, should this be a scholar’s only “measure” of success? Can we support and encourage a feminist sociological perspective beyond the traditional academic job?

I am a feminist sociologist, post-PhD, who is an instructor and a student.

I stared a draft of this article in a much better state of mind than when I first wrote it. Initially I wanted to make a proclamation that feminist sociologists should look back to our history with social work and to the people, such as Jane Addams, that both fields lay claim to. Yet my mood is buffered. I have experienced the difficulty of having a PhD tied to my name, and going back to school, and understanding the historical roots of the professionalization of social work into the clinical field it has become, a competitive endeavor. Alas, my point of this writing has changed from acknowledging the attributes of social work to public feminist sociology, to a more complex one of how we as feminist scholars can support each others’ professionalization in a time of insecurity in higher education and in applied work.

As a feminist scholar, I feel that I should be proud that I have earned a PhD. Anyone with a PhD is part of a very small fraction of the population.

Despite this exclusivity, graduate school socialization tells me that I still haven’t “made it.” I didn’t land that tenure track job I was supposed to get. For the past 3 1/2 years, I traveled from visiting scholar / assistant professor to unemployed, to contract market researcher, to applied work in a business school, to adjunct instructor at a community college. The latter remains my primary work. But my stint in business school along with the still troubled economy, poor academic job market, need for stability in my life, and desire to be a positive role model to my children fueled my decision to go back to graduate school to obtain a MSW.

What’s life like as a MSW student with a PhD?

Difficult. I hear that I am doing things backwards. Apparently, the trend is to get a MSW, work in the field, burn out, and then get a PhD. I also feel stuck between in how I talk about my education and advanced degree. To omit my PhD on a resume would make it look I was quite unproductive for eight years of graduate school. But to list my PhD opens me up to unseemly questions about why the change, or being overqualified, or about why I should instead be placed into internships where my PhD would be an asset. But these options would not provide the learning opportunities to gain what I need in the field.

And there are times, understandably so, when it is not appropriate for me to claim my “title.” But let me back up and explain.

A MSW program is qualitatively different than a PhD program in sociology (or even Master’s degree in Sociology, unless it is applied). First, it has two years of coursework, starting with foundational areas from the history of the welfare state, policy/macro social work, human behavior and the social environment, research methods, and social work methods with individuals, groups, and families. Then one moves on to focus either on community or direct practice. But with each year, an internship is required (taking 16-20 hours a week). The internship for the second year is supposed to be the most important for career placement. But yet in a large metro area with at least three schools with MSW programs, things get very competitive.

Second, a new curriculum change means that one now does not just pick direct practice but chooses among the options of clinical mental health, children and families, and disabilities, health, and aging, with the other option of community practice. While as a young college student, I never knew a MSW could lead to working as a therapist. As with my Bachelor’s degree in sociology and psychology, I thought one must go on to a post-secondary degree in psychology to work as a therapist. In my heart and based on personal experience, I believe MSW’s who obtain the licensure of Licensed Independent Clinical Social Worker make great therapists. They start where the client is at, examine the personal and environmental contexts, and advocate for a person’s self-determination and also social justice, while bounded by the ethics of the National Association of Social Workers.

I have spent much time talking about the requirements of the program, but again, like when I finished my PhD in sociology, fear about future job stability grips me and I retreat to a state of fear. To alleviate this fear, I remember that as a “non-traditional” student, my time is limited to find my dreams and a stable job to support my family while doing something I enjoy. Where does one fit sociology into this? How do I reconcile my structural understandings of the world with working with people in their everyday situations? Why don’t I just decide to work for a non-profit with my MSW and pretend I don’t have a PhD in sociology and eight years of teaching experience? Because, as a feminist, I also have to be true to myself and my own desires. I am 34 years old, and I need a career that supports a family, not just me.

I searched for a mentor, but this has not been easy. I think to myself, “I can’t be the only one who took this path!” I know I am not. I know one other person, but she chose not to speak about her degree and moved out of state to attend school. I talked to my previous sociology professors, who support me. I feel like their colleague. But I have few professors in the Social Work program who believe in me. The irony of a MSW program in a PhD granting R1 institution is that professors do not have much time for mentoring as they work on their publications. And as a MSW student, I feel less important because the time spent with me is not contributing to their tenure portfolios. I reach out to fellow students, the ones with children and jobs who understand the stress of parenting, working, and studying. It is not enough. It just is.

Throughout this process, I learned that I have to believe in myself and make use of the skills I have. I am a passionate instructor. I am a trained sociologist. I am an excellent student. I am an empathetic person. I am not a young 22-year-old student in graduate school for the first time. I don’t have the time to wander and find myself. I need a career. I need some sort of stability. I have to fight the insecurities that became ingrained in me during my first graduate school experience and the pains of the job market after I graduated when I found myself feeling inadequate and realizing that my desire to learn was not enough. I embrace who I am and accept these challenges as growth points. But like others, sometimes I wish the path had been smoother. I have to learn to forgive myself; seek a mentor and support.

I leave you with a question: How can we as feminist sociologists support each other in holding onto our sociological selves, while also searching, and learning about new possibilities, while perhaps even changing careers and trying to manage the real-world effects of a recession? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

At a time when 26 percent of women scientists report being sexually assaulted in the field, the authors of a new study boldly claim that “times have changed” and women’s “claims of mistreatment” in academic science are “largely anecdotal.”

As much as I’d like for this to be true, the claim is founded more on the authors’ fundamental misunderstanding of sex discrimination and oversimplification of gender than on any version of reality.

The authors of “Women in Academic Science: A Changing Landscape”, published in Psychological Science in the Public Interest, examine the career trajectories of women and men in math-intensive fields, finding that women fare as well as men when it comes to invitations to interview for tenure-track faculty positions, job offers, and promotions.

They interpret these findings as follows:

“We conclude by suggesting that although in the past, gender discrimination was an important cause of women’s underrepresentation in scientific academic careers, this claim has continued to be invoked after it has ceased being a valid cause of women’s underrepresentation in math-intensive fields.”

Wendy Williams and Stephen Ceci, two of the study’s authors, wrote about their findings in an October 31st New York Times op-ed. The response on Twitter was swift and skeptical. Critiques of the study have rightly focused on the author’s “wide-sweeping statements” and “self-contradictory observations and internal inconsistencies.”

Sex, Discrimination, and Oversimplification

Adding to these critiques, the authors’ claims that sex-based discrimination is a thing of the past reveal a fundamental misunderstanding of sex discrimination in the United States and an oversimplified understanding of gender.

Under the law, sex discrimination is not just about hiring and promotion; it includes sexual harassment, a form of sex discrimination under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Research shows that workplace sexual harassment of women scientists is an ongoing and fundamental problem. Yet Ceci and colleagues completely ignore this reality and its consequences for the recruitment, retention, and advancement of women scientists.

Another problem is the Psychological Science in the Public Interest study’s confounding of sex with gender. While Ceci and colleagues cite male and females’ comparable rates of hiring and promotion to support their assertion that sexism in science is a thing of the past, they don’t seem to understand that gender is a fundamental dimension of power that shapes all social interactions. If women scientists are being harassed in the workplace because they are women, and we know that they are, then science surely has a sexism problem.As sociologist Zulyeka Zevallos notes in her cogent critique of the study, “An analysis of sexism in academia needs to seriously address gender as a social system, not simply document superficial differences between men and women.”

Understanding gender as a social system means recognizing sexual harassment as a gendered expression of power that privileges a singular version of masculinity above all forms of femininity and above alternative forms of masculinity. All women, particularly those who challenge the gender hierarchy, and any men who do not adhere to the privileged version of masculinity may be at risk for becoming targets of harassment simply by virtue of their placement in the hierarchical gender system.

In a study published in American Sociological Review in 2004, Chris Uggen and I found that women were across the board more likely to experience harassment than men. Women are targeted simply because they are women. We also found a correlation between men’s likelihood of experiencing harassment and the amount of housework they reported doing — one of our measures of egalitarian gender relationships. Our interviews with harassed workers revealed that men who challenge the gender hierarchy are targeted for doing so.

The hostile climate that women in STEM face was most recently documented by Kathryn Clancy and colleagues but their work builds from a long line of research documenting harassment in the academy and other fields and its harmful consequences for employee well-being, mental health, and other health and job-related outcomes.

Further, while Ceci and colleagues may have evidence that some women in STEM are being promoted despite the persistence of a chilly climate, my own collaborative research on the harassment of women in positions of power suggests that as women are promoted, they may be even more likely to face harassment. What better way, after all, to put women who challenge the gender hierarchy “in their place”?

To ignore that hostile workplace climates have a real, significant, and negative impact on women in academic science is not only irresponsible, it is wrong.

The tragedy is that the Psychological Science in the Public Interest study actually does offer some encouraging news: some women in some STEM fields are as likely as men to be interviewed, hired, and promoted. But its message is totally lost in the cacophony of voices rightly objecting to the authors’ claim that “academic science isn’t sexist.”

As much as I wish for them to be right, there’s too much evidence to the contrary to believe it. And they’ve done those who have experienced harassment and who fight every day to achieve gender equality in the workplace a disservice by purporting it.

What are your favorite feminist quotes or quotes about gender and/or feminism? What do they tell us about women, men, our society, misconceptions, and backlash feminism may still face?

In thinking about these questions let’s reflect on the idea of a “feminist perspective” and the stigma that, believe it or not, still exists for many people studying and researching in the field of Women and Gender Studies (WGS)

We share several quotes from years ago that were filed away in a class materials folder from 1996. These were found though a random search using various search engines and pages devoted to the collection of quotes. At this point the sites and URLs are insignificant, but the quotes themselves are still meaningful.

How do the quotes below relate to what we know about gender? What we advocate for when it comes to gender equality? Why Feminism and Women and Gender Studies may be misunderstood and thus stigmatized? Or, as the last quotation suggests, whether this “gender thing” is history?

Defining Gender

“There is no original or primary gender …. gender is a kind of imitation for which there is no original.” ~Judith Butler

Gender Socialization

“The emotional, sexual, and psychological stereotyping of females begins when the doctor says, ‘It’s a girl.'”  ~Shirley Chisholm

“Men are taught to apologize for their weaknesses, women for their strengths.”  ~Lois Wyse

Gender Identity for Women in Male Dominated Fields

“I appreciate the sentiment that I am a popular woman in computer gaming circles; but I prefer being thought of as a computer game designer rather than a woman computer game designer. I don’t put myself into gender mode when designing a game.” ~Roberta Williams

Feminism is not about Hating Men

“You don’t have to be anti-man to be pro-woman.”  ~Jane Galvin Lewis

“Defining men as the perpetrators of all violence is a viciously immoral judgment of an entire gender. And defining women as inherently nonviolent condemns us to the equally restrictive role of sweet, meek, and weak.” ~Katherine Dunn

Does Gender Still Matter?

“But let me tell you, this gender thing is history. You’re looking at a guy who sat down with Margaret Thatcher across the table and talked about serious issues.” ~George H.W. Bush

A Reflection:

Many colleges and universities now offer courses, concentrations, majors, and minors in Women and Gender Studies. These courses may be part of core curricula or cross-listed with other departments. Yet some students interested in these courses have reservations about enrolling in them because of perceived stigma.

Feminist Reflections contributing editor Trina Smith was shocked when she attended a Women and Gender Studies meeting to learn that while many students take core and cross-listed WGS courses at her campus, they do not declare the WGS minor. A student involved in feminist activities told her that some of the students were afraid of what might happen to their career prospects if employers or graduate schools saw Women and Gender Studies on their transcripts.

Are these students’ fears warranted? Are they based on rumor or myth? If such concerns are realistic in a contemporary society in which a former U.S. president called “this gender thing history,” we might ask ourselves why social institutions would view the systematic study of gender as a deficit? Are such sentiments regionally based? Would I want to study or work in such environments?

One thing is certain, if we are still asking these kinds of questions in 2014 this “gender thing” is not yet history.

Both Apple and Facebook recently announced that they will cover egg freezing for their employees. The policies at both companies provoked a series of smart analyses of why they are simultaneously something to celebrate and challenge. For instance, Joya Misra writes, “In an environment in which many women face motherhood and pregnancy discrimination, policies that encourage women to freeze their eggs supposedly to delay parenthood, may actually discourage women from becoming mothers altogether. Access to paid leave and high quality, subsidized childcare would better support women’s decisions about having children” (here). Dr. Misra and others are absolutely correct that egg-freezing policies fail to do anything about the family-friendliness of workplaces and organizations.¹ The existing data on people who take advantage of the specific technology Apple and Facebook are offering to cover for female employees, however, suggests that the lack of family-friendly policies is only one issue worth considering here. Among these issues are: cost of infertility treatment, same-sex families, and explorations of the other reasons reproductively healthy heterosexual women might pursue these options.

There are four obvious groups of women who might pursue this technology. The first are queer or lesbian women (see here, here, and here). The second are women with known or anticipated fertility issues (such as cancer treatment). The third group (and those who have received most media attention surrounding this issue) are professional heterosexual women who may be in a relationship, but don’t want to have children until they’ve reached a place in their career where they feel it will be least professionally damaging. The fourth group are single heterosexual women who might pursue freezing their eggs in the hopes of eventually meeting someone. The data suggest that the majority of heterosexual women pursuing this technology are single. As one maternal fetal medicine specialist and Assistant Professor of Obstetrics and Gynecology—Dr. Chavi Eve Karkowsky—writes,

“[I]f these women were partnered, but still wanted to delay child-bearing, they would probably pursue IVF with their eggs and their partner’s sperm, and freeze the resulting embryos. IVF and embryo cryopreservation is an older, more refined, and arguably more successful technology… What they want is a baby, yes, but with a willing partner for child rearing and a present father for their child” (here).

What Dr. Karkowsky suggests is that women’s decisions to freeze their eggs might have more to do with not feeling like they’ve found a “Mr. Right” (if they’re even looking for Mr.’s in the first place) than with a desire to focus on their careers. In one study of the reasons women pursue egg freezing as an option, women were asked to select any and all reasons to account for why they had not pursued childbearing earlier in their lives. While they were allowed to select all of the possible reasons that might apply, only about a quarter of the sample cited “professional reasons” for not having children earlier. The overwhelming majority of women (88%) claimed that “lack of partner” was the primary reason (see our adapted graph).²

This is related to an issue sociologists refer to as the “marriageability” of men. In the context of rising joblessness in low-income urban communities, William Julius Wilson suggested one consequence of shifts in our economy was that poor, non-white, urban men were disproportionately affected by the shift to a service economy. They’re not out of work because they don’t want jobs; Wilson found that they are out of work because the jobs simply don’t exist. And this has reverberations throughout their communities. One consequence was shrinking “pools of marriageable men” for poor black women (here). “Marriageability” has, thus far, largely been discussed as an issue of economic stability (having a job). And, as Kathryn Edin and Maria Kefalas more recently documented in Promises I Can Keep, poor women remain hesitant to bet their futures on men on whom they may not be able to count to provide economically for their families over the long haul.

More recently, Philip Cohen updated the outcome, considering the ratios of employed, unmarried men per unmarried women for black and white women. Cohen’s analysis suggests that poor women still have smaller pools of “marriageable” men, but also that black women face greater shortages of “marriageable” men than white women in most major metropolitan areas. Here too, Cohen relies on Wilson’s formula for marriageability: “marriageable” = employed.

Yet, when middle and upper-class women (the groups most likely to pursue cryopreservation fertility options) are asked why they are pursuing egg freezing, “lack of partner” is highest on the list. But many of these women must live in “partner rich” areas with favorable “pools of marriageable men” as traditionally defined. Surely some of this is the result of women finding men who might qualify as “marriageable” by Wilson’s standard, unmarriageable by their own.  As Stephanie Coontz has shown, women and men are asking a lot more out of their marriages today than their parents and grandparents might have.  As such, it might not be all that surprising that a more diverse group are delaying and forgoing marriage.  Indeed, as a recent Pew Report investigating the rise in unmarried Americans attests, the population of young adults who have not entered marriage is both growing and changing. For instance, the education gap between never married men and women has widened (see graph). Never married women and men are more educated today than previous generations. More than 53% of never married men today have more than a high school education; 25% have at least a bachelor’s degree. And while it’s a tough economy, Cohen’s analysis suggests that many of these men are finding jobs (often in larger numbers than women in many cities).

We suggest that middle- and upper-class women are delaying and foregoing marriage for many reasons, among them that the employed men they encounter are “unmarriageable” for other reasons.

We are currently working on an article collecting research across the class divide dealing with the “marriageability of men” hypothesis.  Research shows that the “lack of marriageable men” trend is best analyzed as twin trends occurring among different groups for different reasons. For instance, Wilson suggested that “marriageability” primarily had to do with obtaining a job—a task more difficult from some groups of men than others. But, middle- and upper-class women, by this standard, should be marrying in droves—employed men are not always the issue. Men who might be capable of financially providing are not necessarily all women want out of a relationship today.

For instance, in The Unfinished Revolution, Kathleen Gerson found that men and women across a range of class backgrounds said that they desired gender egalitarian relationships. Men were just as likely as women to say that having a partner able to find personally fulfilling work and to co-provide financially was an important part of what they hoped to achieve in current and future relationships.   Things get more complicated, however, when women and men are asked about their backup plans. What happens when those plans for dual-earning, emotionally fulfilling, egalitarian partnerships don’t work out? Women state that they are willing to confront a range of options in terms of fulfilling their family and career goals. Men, on the other hand, are most likely to say that their fallback option does not include the possibility of staying home themselves. Rather, men’s “plan B” appears to put women right back at “plan A” 50 years ago (see Lisa Wade’s analysis here). Indeed, in her interviews with women about their heterosexual experiences in Hard to Get, Leslie Bell finds profound dissatisfaction among 20-something women with their romantic and sexual relationships with men.

While only a small number of women currently choose to pursue oocyte cryopreservation, this issue represents a larger concern with which many women are dealing more generally. Freezing their eggs is one of many strategies heterosexual women might pursue as men are navigating new meanings of what it means to qualify as “marriageable” today.

^{________________________________}

Thanks to D’Lane Compton and C.J. Pascoe for advanced reading and comments on this post.

¹ Whether or not assisted reproductive technologies (ART) are covered by insurance also varies by state in the U.S.  Some states mandate IVF coverage, for instance, while other states do not. In states that do not mandate coverage, it is a more expensive for employers to include coverage in their employee health benefits packages. So, this is not only an issue of “good” and “bad” companies, but one of state legislation that influences organizational policies as well. See here for state-specific policies.

² It’s important to note that some social desirability bias is likely to rear its head here. For instance, some respondents may have felt that claiming “professional reasons” for not pursuing childbearing earlier may be perceived unfavorably by others.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Anita Hill.

Especially after witnessing this exchange this past weekend:

5 year old boy to a 7 year old girl: “You’re stupid. Suck my cock.”

(He grabs at her vaginal area.)

The girl quietly says “Stop,” but isn’t sure what is going on.

The scene haunts me, and millions of other individuals across the gender spectrum, as it replays over and over in our society. I share this to remind us how much more work needs to be done.

Here’s what gives me hope. My college students, like many, are activated around the larger context of harassment on campus. They are talking, discussing, holding protests, and claiming their rights.

Sadly, by week one in college most of my first-year students can identify a harassment culture. They have examples to share: instances of harassment based on sex, gender identity and expression, looks, racial and ethnic identity, and class identity. This is always terribly discouraging.

For years I have shown my students clips of the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas hearing to help them to understand how far we have come. I talk about being a college student when there was barely any language to describe that hostile climate. And were there school policies addressing stalking, sexual assault, and online bullying? I doubt it. But today, those policies exist. Today, Title IX is helping us to achieve equity in college environments across the board.

My students are always unusually fixated, watching the Supreme Court Confirmation Hearings of 1991, when Anita Hill is disemboweled before the public for her claims of sexual harassment. Fourteen white senators staring her down. Senators like Arlen Specter ask over and over about discussions of penis size, porn, and pubic hairs, in what appears to be an attempt to humiliate and break her down. It is as if she is on trial. And yet, she calmly perseveres. In the process, she teaches senators across the political spectrum and the public at large what constitutes hostile climate in the workplace, and what constitutes sexual harassment in a time of great ignorance and denial.

Even though this all occurred before my students were born, they are always grateful to know, understand, and experience this piece of history. Perhaps they see themselves in Anita Hill. They certainly see a brave woman who catalyzed social awareness about sexual violence and gender inequality. And they are standing on the shoulders of Anita Hill, and other reformers like her, including ), Fanny Lou Hamer (involuntary sterilization), Susan Brownmiller and Andrea Dworkin (rape culture), Anne Koedt, Shere Hite, and Barbara Seaman (women’s right to pleasure) and many other brave women who have publicly named sexual violence in their lives and society.

This year, a long-anticipated documentary about Anita Hill, Speaking Truth to Power, is available. It details the period before the trial, the trial itself, and the aftermath, including the approximately 25,000 letters received by Hill, a mix of death threats and loving support. We learn about her family (she is the youngest of 13 siblings), and her mother’s influence in her life. We also meet many of the people who have supported Hill over the years, including a group of women politicians, former colleagues, and family.  At the end of the film Hill is featured working with the younger generation, inspired by their energy and activism related to harassment culture. Most importantly, Anita helps us to reflect on how those hearings changed her life, and specifically how the combination of race and gender shaped her life, and changed the dynamics in DC and beyond.

Yesterday I screened this film for my class, and once again the students were transfixed. Afterwards, they talked about interviewing their moms, and their surprise in learning that many of their moms have experienced harassment in the workplace. In more than a few cases, these mothers experienced heightened misogyny at work, during and after the Anita Hill/ Clarence Thomas trial, a wrinkle that the film does not address.

Throughout the trial, Anita Hill is asked why didn’t she report these incidents. Today, students are also asked the same thing. Reporting is not an easy thing to do, and while reporting rates have gone up in recent years, the numbers as a whole are way too low to reflect the troubling reality on our campuses. It doesn’t seem fair to put full responsibility on the survivors, rather than the perpetrators. But how else do we hold people accountable for their actions? Anita Hill felt she had a responsibility to speak the truth.

Clearly, we still have a long way to go with this harassment culture, especially when it starts at age 5. But thank you Anita Hill, for telling the truth, and for paving the way. Thank you, Emma Sulkowicz at Columbia University, who asks us all to “carry the weight” on October 29th.

Thank you to everyone who continues to be activated around sexual harassment. Let’s continue to break through these  silences and push towards equality.

Related articles

• Sexual Harassment: The Continuing Need to Speak Truth to Power

The bulk of my work, but especially in and around the month of October, is concentrated on breast cancer. “Awareness.” Culture. Industry. Advocacy. Mass Media. Scientific Controversies. Sound bites. Misinformation. Profiteering. Marketing pitches. Parades of pink. People in the middle try to set the record straight, often while dealing with realities of a disease that are never truly addressed in a comprehensive way.

Funeral directors wear pink jackets to honor “those who have battled breast cancer.”

Cancer Center chastises women to persuade them to get mammograms, despite overwhelming evidence that screening mammography benefits fewer and harms more women than previously believed.

Plastic Surgeons sell breast augmentation surgeries; objectify breasts; donate to “research.” As a massive consumer market, the number of plastic surgery procedures increases 5 percent every year.

Largest breast cancer charity partners with one of the world’s largest oilfield service companies. Awareness in a pink drill bit; carcinogens in fracking chemicals.

As I reflect on this ilk masquerading as something useful, I find myself deeply troubled.

There are so many well-intentioned people trying to make progress and a difference in the lives of those diagnosed with, and at risk for, breast cancer. How do they do it amid the refuse? How do they separate the wheat from chaff? How does anyone?

I recently wrote in an op-ed for the Chronicle of Philanthropy — 3 questions missing most “awareness” campaigns— that need to BE answered, to try to address this.

• Do we know who profits from all those pink-ribbon products and how much of the money (if any) goes to research or to support the diagnosed?
• Do we know how much it costs to dress the NFL (or anyone else) in pink and who it really serves?
• Do we know whom to trust for independent, evidence-based information?

There are more questions than this, but if we start with these we might gain traction.

Originally posted on “Marx in Drag”

There is something that is bothering me about the phrases, “A real man doesn’t hit a woman,” or “No one should ever hit a woman.”  This seems to be the go-to phrase in response to the video of Ray Rice punching and knocking out his wife. A friend with tickets to an NFL game wanted to wear a t-shirt that represented her commitment to girls’ and women’s rights. One person suggested, “Don’t Hit Girls.” On the surface, who could argue with that?

But I have found myself cringing every time I hear this. Why would I bristle at this no-brainer?

When we say, “Don’t hit girls,” it punctuates gender difference and re-articulates the idea that girls and women are a different kind of human than boys and men (e.g. don’t use that language around women and children, the victims of the airstrike include women and children, and you never hit a woman).

While these phrases strike a chord of protection, they are examples of benevolent sexism—cultural practices or beliefs that appear to raise women’s status and honor them, but in reality set them apart as different, weak, and/or in need of protection.  Benevolent sexism, while seemingly benign in the form of holding doors, is the same logic that was used historically to bar women from education, politics, and employment (it’s for their own good, poor dears).

I think the phrase “don’t hit women” might be an updated version of benevolent sexism and is the same old discursive move to punctuate gender difference as a hierarchy where men are powerful and women are weak.  When we say that men should not hit women and leave it there, we’re saying that it is okay for men to hit each other.  That is, men are more powerful than women, they are capable of and expected to use violence to settle disputes with “equals”, and women are not equals so should be left out of the messy business of masculine affairs.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I do not think we should do away with this injunction, and I am well aware that men have used violence to exert power and control over women, and that, as researchers like Lisa Brush show, they do more damage when they assault their wives than wives who assault their husbands (see article here).  Domestic violence is an enormous problem, is inextricable from gender power dynamics, and those who are victimized are in need of resources and protection and those who perpetrate should suffer consequences.

However, at the same time, I simply do not believe that saying, “don’t hit girls,” in response to media portrayals of men beating up women, will stop an individual abuser from hitting his partner.  In a world where men are told they should and deserve to have power and control, especially in relationship to women, and that violence is a natural, legitimate, and admirable way to settle disputes, a simple catch-phrase repeated only when boys hit girls or men beat on women won’t stop men like Ray Rice from punching women.

In fact, I think it might do the opposite. This phrase reproduces the idea that violence is inherently masculine and naturally wielded by men.  It’s a “man” thing; it’s not cool to use it against women and children.

While I agree that women and children should never be the victims of violence, I wholeheartedly disagree with the idea that masculine violence is natural or that it should, in any context, be wielded by men to settle disputes or exert or gain power.  When power and control are contested via physical violence, the entity with the greatest physical strength will have the most power and control, whether it is a state, a group, or an individual.  In reality, however, why should this be the case?  What function does brute physical strength serve in most contemporary societies except to unjustly exert or gain power to control others?

This is precisely what bothers me.  The problem is not hitting girls.  The problem is hitting.  If Ray Rice’s partner were significantly smaller than him and a man, what would we say?  What if Ray Rice was partnered with another football player his size or bigger?  Would it be okay for him to punch and knock out “his fiancé, now husband”?  Men small in stature, are not skilled at violence, or who are not willing to use violence against others also suffer greatly at the hands of boys and men who do.  How does that phrase, “don’t hit girls,” help them?  What grievance do they have in the eyes of public opinion?

Finally, I’m also bothered by the media spectacle of Ray Rice’s violence because I am a football fan. Football is embedded in and reflective of a masculine culture of violence.  There is absolutely no getting around this.

In fact, as Michael Messner and others suggest, because brute physical strength is no longer an advantage to men in most areas of life, we raise football  to a religion and worship football players because they provide a cultural demonstration of brute strength as valuable and a legitimate criteria with which to settle who is Number One.  Football, more than any sport embodies and celebrates that aspect of masculine culture and masculine superiority.

As a football fan, I appreciate the athletic skills of quarterbacks, receivers, and pass defenders along with the tactics and strategy required to excel as a team.  I also enjoy men in tight, spandex pants falling all over each other in slow motion.  It’s the beauty, not the brutality of the game that I love.

However, I can’t delude myself.  I’m not pulling the “I like the articles in Playboy” card.  I do sometimes enjoy the violence of the game.  I like it when my team sacks the other team’s quarterback. No matter what I like about the game, however, my participation and endorsement of it is ultimately an endorsement of the physical and economic exploitation of the players and the celebration of masculine power and violence. I am struggling with all of this and have to decide whether or not I will continue to participate as a fan.

But again, I think that blaming football for Ray Rice’s violence is also unacceptable. There has been important discussion about how the players bring the violence of the game back to their interpersonal relationships.  I have no doubt that is the case.  However, to say the problem is football is to ignore the broader gendered culture of violence of which football is a part. We need to take a long hard look at the gender of violence that makes us love football and say “A real man never hits a woman.” What if, instead of saying “A Real Man doesn’t hit women,” we said, “A good person doesn’t hit others?”

But of course, that wouldn’t work for a t-shirt slogan my friend could wear to an NFL game, for, if you oppose hitting of any kind, what are you doing at a football game? And that is precisely the problem with the centrality of violence in football and the role it plays in keeping the gendered order of violence unquestioned.  The t-shirt would have to be about girls.

___________________

Mimi Schippers received her PhD in Sociology from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and is Associate Professor of Sociology and Gender and Sexuality Studies at Tulane University. She is author of Rockin’ Out of the Box: Gender Maneuvering in Alternative Hard Rock (Rutgers University Press) and is currently working on her next book entitled Polyqueer: Masculinity, Femininity, and the Queer Potential of Plural Relationships (New York University Press, forthcoming).