Dispatches from Wisco

As a true Southerner, I cling proudly to my upbringing (for better or worse)--the debutante culture, the unnaturally thin women with always smiling faces, the preppy clothing, the belief that rebel flags and rifles count as decoration, the unbending gender roles, the wonderful accents, the history, the flavorful food, the proud people, the gracious hostessing ablities. I would add what every Yankee/non Southerner thinks of the South: racism, but the truth is that racism is all over the place. The most pronounced "ism" in the South is the gender roles (obviously I acknowledge those are everywhere too, but are just promoted more in the South).

That said, I've chosen to live my life since college in cold climates with people who can be, at best, described as loud and obnoxious with terribly nasal accents (which, try as I might, I can't seem to nail my impersonation), and at worst, gruff, mean and uncaring Yankees. I think it has something to do with the shitty weather that so often lingers...for months...over New England. But, clearly, I somehow identify with these people, or I wouldn't stay here so long.

Suffice it to say, I judge. Despite all my fighting against it in college, I kind of like sterotypes in that weird i-can-explain-everything kind of way. In some fucked up kind of way, I enjoy being able to stereotype people or entire regions in a few words. I realized this (more formally) when I was visitng my family for Thanksgiving. Every family member somehow fulfilled my stereotype of them--which got me thinking that either I have boiled their identies down to simple (like, Granny is a crazy racist lady (who thinks that "those mexIcans are the cause of all the violence. but they work hard!) who is tight with a nickle even though she has millions or faux-uncle Marshall is so paranoid about catching SARS that he doesn't shake people's hands or hug (this is true--he doesn't drink, but he'll carry around a glass of wine in his right hand at parties so he doens't shake anyone's hand. no joke.) or that he's always looking for the cheapest thing every (also true. if he sees you bought a sweater, he'll tell you he just saw a sweater "just like it" for $9.98 at Sam's Club. I'm sorry, NO ONE can find cashmere for $9.98)) descriptions and therefore I look for them to be like that OR that they are they really like that? I think the answer is both.

I say all this because this weekend I ventured into the COLD COLD midwest--specifically, Wisconsin. My lord, it was so fucking cold. People, to my releief exactly filled my stereotypes of midwesterners--super nice, really blond, lots of cheese and beer.

I think I probably had more to say about this when i started the post. Oh well.

Domestic Splendor?

A recent NYT ed-op, got me thinking about, shockingly, my life. For most of my life (or, at least, for my semi-cognisant, quasi-adult life), I have always assumed that I would work hard, pave my own way, be super-independent. Every once in a while, I get into these moods where I decide I would like to have a "companion"--which a friend of mine mocks. My idea of a "companion" is
someone I can listen to NPR with, read the Sunday NYT, do work around without feeling super guilty...generally act like I'm in a relationship without actually being in a relationship. I have many of these platonic type friends, but I usually want something sexual too--something where I respect the person in and out of bed (a rarity in my world of insanely high standards).

But I digress.

Judith Warner, the writer of the article focusing on Friedan's "Feminine Mystique" caught my attention when she wrote,

"... five years ago, as I settled, for the first time, into a life where I worked minimal hours, spent maximal time with my children and was almost entirely dependent on my husband's salary and health benefits, ancient history became a current affair. I lived surrounded by women whose lives were much like mine, and the sentences that swirled around me on the playground stirred memories of thoughts and phrases I'd read long before. The voices coalesced into a chorus of discontent that haunted me until one evening, after my daughters had gone to sleep, I went through a pile of boxes and dug up my old copy of Ms. Friedan's book. This time, as it had for many of the homemakers who read it when it was published in 1963, "The Feminine Mystique" felt horribly familiar. Looking back convinced me that we needed to start working toward a different future."

Warner continues and discusses how times haven't actually changed for women, especailly in the private sphere of the home and child-rearing; that there's been "no meaningful national policies to make satisfying work and satisfying family life anything but mutually exclusive for most men and women."

So here is the thing: sometimes, secretly, I find myself fantisizing about being supported by someone while overseeing the domestic sphere--throwing parties, organizining charity benefits...and really that is it, to be honest. I can't imagine attempting to manage children (or, really, having them...ugh), doctors appointments, rearing them the way Cookie brought us up (I have to say, she did a slammin job--seriously, we're all pretty normal, smart, ambitious children...nothing too weird and fucked up with any of us) with lessons, practices, enrichment, etc. and making dinner every night. I don't want to check out of the public sphere because I'm not into what I do, or that I am lazy, or that I don't have serious ambition, but rather that it seems "easier" or more fun (and certainly "safer") than what I'm currently doing with my life. I then, after having these feelings, immediately feel serious guilt--both my women's studies theory oriented and my career development sections of my brain scream at me that I'm nuts. It's all so confusing--I want the security (though, given that some really high percentage of relationships end and over 50% of marriages end in divorce, security certainly isn't a guarentee) of being able to do the "fun" stuff in my life, explore more about me (I wince as I write thing--I am uber irritated at people who make decisions based on only what they want in life and not the impacts their decisions will have on others). Not sure where I am going with this other than to voice it. Maybe this blog thing is just a secret (or not so secret?) confessional for my usually unexplored self? Mostly, I just need to get things off my chest.

Ok, speaking of which, WHAT THE FUCK. Ok, I'm down with people getting more sexual knowledge, and it looks like she dishes on the reg on laist.com, but honestly, could she further divide the queers from the "straights"? Since sexuality changes throughout one's life even playing into stupid straight/gay/queer/bi/whatever labels is irritating. Ugh. Get over it.

Oh, and my friend has this on her blog, and I think it's interesting. Give it a click or two.

Happy Monday.