Archive for the ‘The F-Word’ Category

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I’ve been working

December 2, 2011

Or, you know, goofing off, depending on how you look at it.

You know, Ekaterina Zatuliveter is NOT a spy. I’m amazed at the slut-shaming this woman has endured. All because she’s Russian and gravitates towards older, powerful men. In a normal world, this would have been a phase she would have grown out of – upon which she would have penned a whimsical screenplay about it. You know, something like “Guinevere,” but with more mass market appeal.

Also,  my translation of the Nicholas Seeley interview with Sergei Lukyanenko, Russian fantasy writer extraodinaire and author of “Night Watch,” et al, is out in Strange Horizons. This was a trilateral effort: Nick, Shari Perkins, and myself.

Went to the “Khodorkovsky” premiere at Artdokfest film festival today. Didn’t stick around. They herded the guests into a ridiculous line – honestly, the Khudozhestvenny movie theater is not the best place for a festival of this magnitude. The woman in line next to me had huge sapphire earrings like something out of a period drama. I got bored very quickly. Didn’t get my goddamn press badge either, will have to go tomorrow. “But we e-mailed you that you have to get it by six!” “No you did not, goddamit!” Anyway, I warned them that I’ll be arriving to claim my badge with an infant in tow tomorrow, festival ambiance be damned.

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You know why “call-out culture” sucks?

October 19, 2011

It sucks because it’s largely derivative.

Someone writes a critique of, say, a TV show. Then someone else critiques the critique. Then a legion of ANGREE PEOPLE shows up in the comments section of the critique that’s critiquing the critique, furious about some WORD that the critic used, a word that is OFFENSIVE in some contexts, though perhaps not in others. The outrage spreads to Twitter, and causes exasperated status updates on Facebook, which then prompt philosophical debates in the comments to said updates – debates that are Godwinned within 24 hours, because that’s just how some people roll.

I don’t know about you – but I’ve got, like, real life white pride marches and violence against journalists in Moscow getting most of my attention these days. If someone pisses me off on Twitter, I might flame them for a second, then get on with my freaking day.

Call-out culture seemed meaningful when I was younger, richer and stupider. I have a child now, for God’s sake. I have a husband. We’re adults. We go to IKEA and stuff. I’ve got the receipts to prove it!… I seriously have better things to do.

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Back at work full-time

September 3, 2011

It’s way hard – but I’m happy about it, because it brings the right sort of balance for a person such as myself. I get to work on the newspaper during the day, and come home to Lyovka at night, and I’m not overwhelmed by the minutae of home life – though neither do I have the chance to get overwhelmed by what we do at work. My brain just goes into “home mode” once I have Lyovka in my arms – and home mode is something I have struggled with before we had our son.

None of this stops random people from passing judgement – where would I be if it wasn’t for their sage opinions on everything from whether or not using an electrical breast pump is “wrong” to whether or not I’m a “real mother” at all now? Please, don’t hesitate to keep your superior wisdom to yourself, o Weird Dude In the Elevator Who Glimpsed My Breast Pump In a Paper Bag! I genuinely want to discuss the fact how I am a total freaking idiot – because the only thing that worked for your wife is a manual breast pump, and it’s “more natural that way.”

Ahem.

Lyovka, meanwhile, is amazing. He has my hair colour and forehead so far – but looks like his dad otherwise. When he gets upset and cries, he looks like a pumpkin. Or a tomato. We call him tykvochka and pomidorchik, then. “Uh oh, the pomidorchik is starting to grow.”

Our nanny is Ukrainian and knows all about borscht.

I’ve been busy working on a film treatment based on my new play at night – which works out great if Lyovka sleeps between night-time feeding sessions, and not so great if Lyovka doesn’t sleep between night-time feeding sessions.

The deadline is approaching, but there are always more deadlines in sight.

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False labour

July 7, 2011

Is like a constant series of goddamn teaser trailers.

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Dear Scott Adams, it’s mostly FEMALE lions who hunt. And so on.

June 16, 2011

So Scott Adams, the man behind Dilbert (oh the humanity!), showed his ass again. I read about it on Feministe. I’m not going to link to his original post – because screw it.

Still, I’d like to address it. Because oddly enough, I do agree with Scott Adams on one important point – there certainly IS a crisis of masculinity going on in countries like the United States. Though I don’t believe that said crisis hinges on the whole notion of “ZOMG men are not allowed to rape! Their natural instincts are being suppressed by hairy-legged feminist-types!”

First of all, let’s get real about rape – it happens, and most of the perpetrators get away with it. Every once in a while, you’ll have a terrible story like the Duke lacrosse fake rape thing – but the majority of sexual assaults are real, and nobody presses charges afterwards. There is usually too much shock, denial, and, hey, most women are raped by guys they know. It’s hard for them to reconcile such a breach of trust with the image they have in their heads – the image of the guy as just a normal fella.

Most rapists, I believe, don’t even refer to their actions as “rape.” Some are sick individuals who get off on the violation, but the majority, I think, don’t really get the concept of consent, and have been brought up to believe that certain women and girls are “asking for it,” etc.

There are also frequent cases of men raping other men, or boys. And I’m not just talking about prison. Hardly any of that ever gets reported.

And sometimes, women will rape men too. And most of these situations revolve around someone being drugged. And how many of those do you think are ever reported?

So the way I see it, we do, in fact, allow rape. Even though, as a society, we believe that it’s wrong – we don’t exactly deal with the issue. We merely pay lip-service to it.

Now, for some reason, Scott Adams seems to believe that rape is the most natural thing in the world. Which is odd, because how exactly does one define “natural”? Even in some of the most patriarchal societies to date – rape was framed as kinda a problem, whether for property reasons (“You violated my woman! But she BELONGS to me!”) or otherwise. Even societies that think of marital rape as no big deal, for example, tend to think of it as a violation – if not one that anyone needs to worry their pretty heads over it.

Scott Adams believes that men are basically born into a world in which their “natural instincts” are framed as “shameful and criminal.” It’s not that surprising to me that an American man, even a highly successful, even famous, American man should feel this way. Actually, fame and success are sort of part of the issue here, are they not? Being famous and successful, you have farther to fall. You are way more scrutinized. And as such, you being to scrutinize yourself more. And you realize that there are gaps in your self-knowledge. And you can’t address those gaps in a meaningful manner, because you have, indeed, had your sexuality pathologized for most of your life. Just not in the way that you think.

Americans are not big on sexual honesty. We’re not encouraged to make sense of our desires. The best most people can do is learning socially acceptable catchphrases, such as “no means no” – and hardly ever address the issue of why we need such catchphrases to begin with.

Scott Adams writes:

The way society is organized at the moment, we have no choice but to blame men for bad behavior. If we allowed men to act like unrestrained horny animals, all hell would break loose.

Society is not organized this way “at the moment.” It has always had rules. Rules have shifted over time, but rules are also the general reason why the “lion and the zebra at the watering hole” is not a valid comparison to men and women and rape. Even if you cast notions of morality aside, our brains are more complex than the brains of lions and zebras. Such complexity demands order – and justification for said order. Order is a fluid concept – but it’s also what has allowed the human species to become dominant on planet Earth.

If a man is just an unrestrained horny animal – then the entirety of human history fails to make sense. Look at Einstein. He was really into ladies…

… In fact, he was a cheater, some people even claim he was a rapist – or just a creep of sorts. He was also, um, Einstein. All jokes aside, I somehow doubt that Einstein developed the theory of relativity simply as a way to avoid dealing with “natural” sexual frustration. Rather, Einstein was a complicated human being, like everyone else, and he had his sexual urges and possibly even his violent urges – and he had his urge to do complex theoretical work. He had an oulet for his ideas – he probably had way less of an outlet for his issues with women. Was his excellence in physics unnatural? Whereas his troubled personal relationships were just dandy?

“We have no choice but to blame men for bad behaviour” – oh no! So if Einstein decided he was just going to run around and hump everything in sight, and he had never become a great physicist, this would be, like, a good thing? A natural thing? I’m fairly certain that Einstein’s brain was bigger than his dick – and I’m also fairly certain that nature, the Holy Grail of guys like Scott Adams, planned it that way – but using one and not the other would be, like, OK? And in the best interests of the human race? Wow, who knew?

I think the real problem with guys like Scott Adams is this whole fact that most American guys are brought up with the idea that they are undesirable (in fact, Einstein may have had the same problem growing up in Munich!). Just like women, when you think about it, but this insecurity is taught in a different way. The average American guy internalizes a lot of bullshit about “alpha males”, and judges himself accordingly. The lucky few are natural-born pussy magnets, the rest have to scramble and compensate somehow – that’s the game. It’s really messed up, and I think it screws up boys big-time. These boys are not taught to value themselves – at best, they’re taught how to be cocky as a means of covering up a bunch of self-esteem issues. They’re taught that their sexuality is totally separate from the rest of their identity – like an atrophied muscle. And women, they’re taught, don’t really like them. And they should pay women back in kind – should they get steamrolled or otherwise humiliated. So hating women and desiring women physically is framed as normal.

It’s a crappy situation and it affects more people than Scott Adams could shake a “round peg” at.

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Money and the (pregnant) ladies: song and dance

June 12, 2011

I fell for you jiving and I too you in
Now all you’ve got to offer me is a drink of gin

Why don’t you do right?
Like some other men do
Get out of here and get me some money, too

Unlikes some other women I know, I have no problem admitting that I want a guy to pull his weight – and then some. Especially when you’re expecting a baby, geez. It sucks being a hugely pregnant breadwinner, when you’re not “winning” that much “bread” to begin with – and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It sucks going to the readers of this blog, cap in hand, because your cashflow issues are about to ruin your credit history – and much worse. I mean, what’s a credit history when you’re going, “Hmmm, do I buy meat or do I buy prenatal vitamins?!” Though I am incredibly grateful to the readers of this blog – both ones I know, and ones I’ve never spoken to before – who have been so generous in these last few weeks. I used to get very embarrassed when accepting gifts, but now I am just absurdly grateful.

As I have found out, cashflow can also hinge on communication. When we found out about my pregnancy, my theater director husband expressed his wish to remain in film school – but said he would do odd jobs to help out. My response? I initially talked him out of it. I thought I could do alright on my own financially, considering the stuff I had lined up, and I thought that film school was ultimately more important. Which it is – especially if you want more contacts and job offers down the line – but it’s not the end-all, be-all of existence. Especially not with a baby on the way. This is what I’ve had to learn the hard way.

There used to be shame, for me, in admitting that I want to be financially dependent and taken care of every once in a while. That shame is loooong gone, baby. I don’t need to strike a pose and cock my gun and act badass – when I’m not actually badass. I feel rather like a girl in her mother’s too-big pumps and some clown make-up, playing a role. I suppose this is why so many women dread pregnancy to begin with.

The actual physical state I’m in, though, I don’t find dreadful. It’s been an amazing process, from the first flutterings to the karate kicks. “I am a little barge, bouncing on the big ocean waves, with a little passenger on board,” I tell my husband when I’m being particularly wistful and passive-aggressive. “I am a little barge. Water splashes on my deck.”  Sometimes, I go full-on Linda Hamilton in “T2,” when she’s having one of her moments: “You think you’re so creative. You don’t know what it’s like to really create something; to create a life; to feel it growing inside you…” She did have a point.

And all of that taken into consideration, I still don’t think that greater happiness is possible – when it’s just me, my husband and The Globe, and The Globe is all animated, making his father laugh. I’m glad I realize that now. It would be hard to look back on this years and years down the line, and go, “Well, damn. We were so happy. Funny how I never realized as much.”

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Yes, a fighter and NOT a mage

June 1, 2011

I have walked into D&D games and had some snarky asshole male gamer ask me where my chainmail bikini was, or give me shit for wanting to play a fighter rather than a cleric or a mage…

Ren, Sexism in Gaming series

I like drawn out, single-player RPGs with a bunch of side quests – games I come back to for months on end, which are an entirely private experience (private, in the sense that I’ll have an amused member of my household stand over my shoulder and say things like, “Just give up on the Deathclaws* already”). I don’t really want to interact with other gamers most of the time; hell, I don’t even connect much to the “Little Big Planet” network. I’m a lone wolf, goddamit, and I just don’t want to deal with douchebags. And even if you don’t have voice chat, the douchebags will pick you out if you happen to have a female-sounding nickname in particular.

Still, because I invest so much time and energy in my characters, I do, occasionally, want to share them in some way or another. When I was playing “Elder Scrolls”, I was particularly proud of my character – a female Dark Elf I named Mido (I named her after my then-boyfriend’s brother, because I bought the game around the time of his high school graduation, as corny as it sounds). Mido was a warrior character, specializing in swords and heavy armour. Some of that heavy armour made her look a little bit ridiculous, but I still give props to the game designers  - no stupid chainmail bikinis for my Dark Elf.

Now, there are plenty of cool spells and the like in “Elder Scrolls,” but I always felt more confident with a sword. And what I found is that many people viewed the mage-type characters as having been designed exclusively “for girls.” Why? A whack of the sword indulges my inner bloodthirsty savage, dammit. In “New Vegas,” I similarly enjoy blowing the heads off various people and creatures. I can’t wait for the inevitable bloodshed and doom of “Skyrim.”

I don’t think there’s anything inherently “girly” about a mage character either. In “Elder Scrolls,” I found magic trickier to pull off, truth be told. I could never aim my spells right, for example – and I was often pretty lax about acquiring the more complicated ones (until I got to the Mages Guild storyline, I suppose). I always felt that battle magic in “Elder Scrolls” required more work, and as such, was more challenging.

Same goes for sneaking and archery skills in “Elder Scrolls” in particular. The former I eventually mastered, the latter I pretty much consistently sucked at. In analyzing why, I’ve come to the conclusion that these activities weren’t nearly as useful to me in channeling my own aggression. Like Ren points out in her series – gaming is often about being able to be someone you’re not, someone you want to be. I’m not good when it comes to anger issues – wiping out a nest of vampires in a cave somewhere does actually help, even if all of the action occurs on a television screen.

Snobs dismiss gaming as mindless escapism, but the act of escaping is never particularly mindless. It tells you a lot about yourself – as you get busy lovingly putting down a bunch of frag mines in order to appropriately welcome an approaching Deathclaw or get ready to finally say goodbye to Umaril the Unfeathered, the Liberace to Dagon’s Rob Zombie. I have found the escapism especially useful while pregnant, because it’s not as if I can run a few kilometers right now in order to deal with rage. Angry pregnant ladies, take note: gaming can be good for you.

hey bitch

As a writer, I pay special attention to plot arcs in RPGs, and I find the whole structure of games to be very useful when it comes to writing fiction, though that’s a whole other story. For now, I’m just grateful that the medium exists in one way or another – and I’m glad that it’s evolving. And being an asshole to women because more and more of them are also claiming it as their own will, hopefully, get old eventually. I mean, look at it that way – my husband likes me way more after I’ve just killed a bunch of zombies. I become a more pleasant person. Everyone wins.

* – For those who aren’t familiar with the Fallout series, Deathclaws are bad motherfuckers, and not in an endearing, Samuel L. Jackson way either. They look like Satan on dinosaur legs, and repeatedly hand your ass to you. 

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Sexism in gaming

May 30, 2011

Ren is writing about it. This is a good thing. I look forward to more.

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Sweet Lord, there is no such thing as an “illegitimate child”

May 27, 2011

Even a cursory glance at the coverage of the Schwarzenegger cheating-and-paternity scandal shows that WAY too many people still believe in the whole idea of “legitimate children” and “illegitimate children.” It goes beyond mere word-choice. The “illegtimate child” has an aura of embarrassment attached, at best. Oops, your parents messed up, and produced you! If only your dad had kept it in his pants and/or wore a condom! Or else, the child is viewed as an oughtright inconvenience. Some people even think that laws should be rewritten, so that the little “bastards” in question should not threaten a “legitimate” family’s finances.

This gif sums up my feelings on the matter:

I think it's nice, no? And oddly subtle, for a gif of this nature.

I’m not one of those people who can honestly say that she loves her neighbour (especially not when he’s blasting really bad techno at 2 a.m.) or turns the other cheek. Like any person, I’d be pretty pissed off if my husband went off and had a kid with someone else, and I was in the dark about it. The reason why so much aggression and discomfort centers on the child has to do with the fact that the child serves as living, breathing “evidence” of a betrayal. People often project their own insecurities about their relationships onto children like that, without even knowing the child personally or consciously acknowledging what it is they’re doing. All of that is perfectly understandable.

None of it excuses the ridiculous label of “illegitimacy.”

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I write about naked grandmas… I mean, naturism – for Feministe

May 25, 2011

Yay.

The one thing I really didn’t mention in that post is how naturism has been a big part in helping me deal with chronic pain – most likely because so much of it centers on the idea of self-acceptance. You don’t go strolling naked into the waves without a sense of acceptance, I don’t believe. Not in this day and age, anyway.

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