The Fem Spot

Fiscal feminism and the married woman

Posted in Feminist Theory, Marriage, Personal Essays by femspotter on September 25, 2008

September 25, 2008

How much money is enough?

When answering this question, single women might have an easier time of it than do women who share their private lives with partners. You go to work and apply 100 percent of your time and earnings to YOU. The right salary is whatever you say it is; whatever keeps you living the life you want to live.

But if you’re a married woman like me, with a husband earning an impressive salary (more than our parents have each ever made per year, to put it in perspective), you might start to find yourself taking “flexible” jobs…or part time jobs. Either of these types of “careers” afford you time to do the chores you used to reserve for weekends: laundry, grocery shopping, house cleaning, etc.

I don’t know exactly how it happened, but over time, my professional life has morphed, and I now spend alot of time trying to make sure that, in addition to running the aforementioned errands, I put a healthy and tasty meal on the table each night of the week, not to mention breakfast and lunch on the weekends. My husband helps. He takes out the garbage. He takes out the recyclables. He loads the dishwasher. And after I’ve spent the day washing and folding our clothes, he always says, very politely, “Thanks for doing the laundry, babe.”

I think that originally, when I decided to pursue a master’s degree on a part time basis, I entered a flexible schedule job (real estate sales) so that I could accommodate a school schedule. I didn’t think to myself, “Hmm…I’ll be getting married soon so I better get ready for the shackles.”

No. I’m emancipated. One day, however, the laundry and the cooking and the picking up his shoes and the long afternoon walks with our dogs, etc. became second nature to me. I don’t regret this change in me. I’ve embraced married life in this way. I am very proud that my husband earns as much money as he does, having navigated the rough waters of Corporate America. And I’m proud of me for making our home a comfortable place to be when we’re not at work or school.

But he earns money…MONEY. And since I don’t charge him for every shirt I fold or picture I frame and hang, I have no way to feel as if I’m entitled to the things that money can buy. I want to get a manicure. It’s a little luxury. I could ask my husband for the money. He would say “yes.” But inside, I’d be telling myself the whole time, “You don’t deserve this. You haven’t earned it.”

If you’re a single gal you know that, for instance, $60,000 per year keeps you in Nine West and Kenneth Cole. You’re happy with that. For a married gal whose husband has bought her the shoes and the handbag for her birthday, how much money is appropriate? What will make me feel like I’m contributing? $20,000? $40,000? $140,000?

I don’t have a hangup about being a housewife, or “domestic engineer” as some say. J*** and I have always agreed that if we decide to have children, one of us will stay home and raise them. I could not assume all the home chores I do, bring in $50,000 per year and have to worry about bringing up well-balanced kids too. No way! I have no idea how my mother did it. For me, the exchange of a real job for a life at home would not be a luxury but an absolute necessity. I get tired just thinking about it.

And let’s be realistic: it’s not like I’m going to drop everything and watch “Oprah” all day long. In fact, women who start sentences with the words “Oprah says…” are to be avoided. They’ve lost the ability to draw conclusions for themselves. I won’t even sit next to them at the park where our kids play together in the afternoon. Instead, I’ll read…literature.

I have a friend with two children in school who considers herself a “full time volunteer.” It’s true. You can never pin her down. She’s always helping to organize school plays and fundraisers, serving on various civic committees for the betterment of the environment or local arts, and assisting women and children in a battered women’s shelter in a nearby urban area. All of this is unpaid and I know that she and her husband feel the pinch. But honestly, is her life any less important than mine because her daily work is not validated by a pay stub?

I don’t think so…but something in my gut drives me to achieve a moment in my life when I can stand up straight and tall, take a deep breath through my nose and grin with the knowledge that I have achieved a six-figure income all on my own. Selling real estate has been lucrative, but not that lucrative. And when I went back to a full time, yet flexible, job as a reporter in the last year, I earned the least amount of money for that year than I’d ever earned since completing my undergraduate degree seven years ago. A few weeks ago, I gave up that job and my first thought was, “Now I know when I’ll be able to do the laundry.” Later, however, I wondered how I would afford my manicure.

What is fair? I’m taking a new job in a related industry for a lot more money. It uses many of my school-acquired skills and many of my street-acquired skills too. I’m really excited about this new venture. But when I get home at the end of the day, the last thing I’ll want to do is pick up my husband’s shoes and whip up a gourmet feast in the kitchen. And I’ll want at least one day on the weekend to play: see a movie, window shop at the mall, lunch with a girlfriend, etc. But I won’t have time to do those things if Saturday becomes the new laundry day and Sunday the day for grocery shopping.

How do I ask for help? Do I even have the right? As hard as I’ll work, my salary won’t beat his. And it’s not that I’m competing with my husband…I’m just competing with me. Does the amount of money we earn directly correlate to the amount of home chores we’re responsible for?

I’m not wishing for a single life again. I’m wishing for an answer.

If you’re married, and your husband earns enough, then how much is enough for you? What’s the magic number that makes a 21st Century wife’s life valid? When does it become okay to let the husband bring in all the dough so that you can bake it…after a long day of charity “work?”

Natalie Dylan: virgin or victim?

Posted in Feminist Theory, Politics, Pop Culture, Sexuality by femspotter on September 19, 2008
September 19, 2008
Natalie Dylan (pseudonym)

Natalie Dylan (pseudonym)

Although Alaska Governor and Vice Presidential nominee Sarah Palin’s eyewear seems to be getting more media attention than the announcement from a 22-year-old woman from California that she will sell her virginity to the highest bidder, the latter incident has not gone entirely unnoticed. Prostitution is largely illegal in the United States – it is legal in Nevada and Rhode Island, so it’s surprising that we Americans are spending more time debating abortion – which then presumptive Supreme Court Justice John Roberts said in 2005 was “settled as a precedent” – than we are about the concept of selling sex for money.

Natalie Dylan (left) has said that rather than work her way through graduate school, she’d like to auction off her virginity – she’s hoping for $1 million – in order to pay for a master’s degree in marriage and family therapy. Presumably, as we are living in a capitalist society which operates according to the principle of supply and demand, there is a demand out there for sex…but not just sex: sex with a virgin.

Of course, news of Ms. Dylan’s scheme has sparked speculation in the blogosphere that perhaps she is not what she says. Could it be that she is lying? Could it be that she is not a virgin, and therefore selling a used good claiming that it is new?

That seems to be the most popular angle on the debate over Dylan’s sex sale: is she or isn’t she a real virgin? What’s the difference? The penis doesn’t leave an impression behind after intercourse. It’s not like there will be grooves in a seasoned vagina that weren’t there before the…uh…seasoning. And any female who has ever used a tampon or participated in youth sports activities has broken her hymen. There will likely be no blood to prove your claim.

Guys, your dick won’t know the difference. Do men secretly want to be Captain Kirk (William Shatner), “boldly go(ing) where no man has gone before?”

If I had $1 million in spare cash just lying around, I wouldn’t pay for sex with a virgin. I’d smuggle ice cream into a secret gathering of women in Afghanistan and move all young girls slated for “circumcision” to a desert island. That way women who aren’t getting laid properly could at least enjoy the pleasure of eating forbidden food. And little girls who are being crippled so that they never have orgasms – EVER – could escape such a cruel, sexless existence.

And if there’s any money leftover, I’d buy something for me. I’m no saint. Behold:

Armadillo Striped Satin d'Orsay by Christian Louboutin - $790

Christian Louboutin $790

It’s not like Dylan will use the whole of her $1 million to pay for school. Graduate school doesn’t cost that much. I see extravagant satin shoes in her future.

But wait: even if somebody does agree to pay big bucks for sex with the big V, doesn’t the aforementioned prostitute get only half of the money that’s tendered? After all, Dylan has agreed to lose her virginity at the Moonlite BunnyRanch in Nevada, one of only a handful of legal brothels. But the location doesn’t come cheap: Dylan will have to fork over half of her earnings when the time comes. If she’s offered $1 million for her virginity, she’ll net $500,000. And BunnyRanch owner Dennis Hof will keep the remainder for…well…for having a keen business sense and the foresight to know that his 1993 $1.5 million investment in the existing brothel would pay off.

Everybody gets rich, I guess.

I had an argument about prostitution with a Marxist feminist wherein she outlined for me how prostitution exploits women. I don’t agree entirely. In the first place, exploitation would mean that a service is being provided without just compensation. In Dylan’s case, she has said up front what “just compensation” means to her. If a woman says that she will provide sex for $100, and she is subsequently paid $100 for that sex, there is no exploitation. If her customer stiffs her – in more ways than one – then there is exploitation. I am assuming that customers pay upfront in these legal brothels. How is there financial exploitation in such cases?

The hole in my argument (or, at least, the wrinkle) is that the house takes 50 percent of the working girls’ earnings. Because prostitution is only legal in these small areas of the country, women (and men where there’s demand) have very few potential employers.

Do real estate agents generally feel exploited by their real estate brokers? If they do, they can switch. Realtor X makes x percent of her commission and Realtor Y makes y percent at a different brokerage. Realtor X can make y percent if he or she changes companies. But a prostitute has few options. In our society, we consider prostitutes to be deviant; suppliers of a deviant product. (We don’t generally think about the level of deviance in the demanding population.) Therefore, we have isolated the identified deviants in small pockets of the country.

Natalie Dylan has said that in this capitalist society, she is going to capitalize on her virginity. But because her options are limited, so is her fiscal yield. It is therefore not capitalism that exploits prostitutes, as the Marxist feminist would argue, but rather moral rigidity in the law. More legal brothels would yield more competition for brothel owners and consequently higher commission splits for sex workers.

This doesn’t completely expound a platform in favor of prostitution. I believe that like most things having to do with our bodies – i.e. sexual preference and reproductive rights – prostitution should be above the law. One reason for the federal government to make abortion uniformly legal was to avoid the state border hopping that was going on prior to Roe v. Wade in 1973. Isn’t that why President George Bush and others are in favor of a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage: to avoid mass vigilante behavior across the U.S.? Until more states permit prostitution as a legal means of income, there’s very little threat of such border hopping and mass vigilantism. It’s not likely that the federal government will address the issue any time soon.

I believe there shouldn’t even be an issue. What you do with your own body should be entirely up to you so long as you don’t infringe upon other human beings’ inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Man on wire said “So what!”

Posted in Film and Television, Personal Essays, queer theory by femspotter on September 11, 2008

September 11, 2008

The documentary film Man on Wire chronicles the six-year process by which French high wire artist Philippe Petit planned and illegally executed his famous 45-minute walk between the two World Trade Center towers in New York City, 1974. The movie is a thrill ride. It’s not like you don’t know what’s going to happen. But, for instance, it’s like the inevitability that affects the nerves when watching James Cameron’s Titanic (1997): you know that ship is going to sink but you just can’t look away.

Sometimes, the most important part of human experience is the journey, rather than the destination.

For Petit, the destination was nearly 1,400 feet above ground. His journey would take him on airplanes back and forth between the United States and France…in and out of friendships, romances…and from a time in his life when a little boy ripped a picture of the Twin Towers out of a magazine to the time – about five minutes into the walk – when a 24-year-old man let got of any fear he’d been clinging to and smiled.

The film made me think a lot about fear. I left the theatre feeling exhilarated. I thought, how can I ever give in to fear again? Petit got through six frustrating years of planning and then didn’t back down at the summit, even after evanescent moments of second-guessing the outcome. I have so many little battles with fear on a daily basis…but because of the man on the wire, I can’t let fear get the better of me. If Petit can walk between buildings in the sky, then I can ask three of my professors for letters of recommendation for Yale University’s English literature PhD program. I can apply for that job that seems just a bit out of my reach. And I can wear dark red lipstick if I like it…to hell with what the other girls say behind my back. (Would you believe that the biggest fear of the three is that last one?)

Then I started thinking that if Petit’s fear was barely perceptible, perhaps others have fears, big and small, that they hide. And what’s the difference between the fears common to men and those common to women?

I’ve observed that most exhibited fears align with social pressure and perception. Men, for instance, often fear letting their emotions get the best of them. As most people know, “real men” don’t cry.

I remember the first time I saw my husband crying. His mother was very sick with cancer and was in and out of consciousness. He knelt beside her and wept. If social acceptance for men is contingent upon their ability to remain stoic in times of emotional turmoil, then J*** may not be one of those aforementioned “real men” of the world…but I never felt closer to him than I did when he let his guard down. I understand the fear. The bravest thing to do in such times is cry.

Women, on the other hand, tend to fear manifest emotions less. We’re expected to whimper and cheer during appropriate experiences. But I think we worry more about being judged by others than men do. A man might not worry that others will disapprove of his job or his salary, but his wife probably does. She probably worries that her friends will think her hubby doesn’t dress well/make enough money/say the right things. And in this increasingly demanding world that is challenging the typical heterosexual model of family on multiple fronts – i.e. man at work, woman in the kitchen – a woman might worry that her friends think she herself doesn’t dress well/make enough money/say the right things.

I’ve observed that men tend to be more interested in being the sole victor than most women I know. I’ll share the glory. Some men fear a bit of healthy competition and do everything they can to surround themselves with people who don’t pose a threat to their success. Women, instead, surround themselves with people who don’t pose a threat to their image. Who ever heard of a beautiful bride’s maid’s dress? And how many football quarterbacks are best friends with other quarterbacks? There can only be one “Most Valuable Player.” There can only be one “Prom Queen.”

And there can only be one man on the wire at a time, though Petit had nothing to fear from his cohorts. The only one who wanted to be on that wire was him.

When I think about the most crippling fears we have, I realize that they are just that: crippling. We lose out on so much in life because we’re afraid to fail, or be judged, or be embarrassed. And then we lose sleep later on wondering what we could have achieved were it not for the fear.

We have to employ the words “So what!” more often. What are the risks? He might not like my hair, she worries. So what! She might win that award instead of me, he thinks. So what! Here’s something you don’t use those words about: there are children starving in Africa. Focus on that instead of your fear.

Petit has been quoted as saying, “When I see three oranges, I juggle; when I see two towers, I walk.”

For him, there was an unstoppable force compelling him to climb to the top of the World Trade Center and dangle from a metal cable. And he didn’t let anything keep him from completing his reverie. We can spend time asking the question: Why did he do it? But the better question is: How? If he thought to himself, “I might fall,” he subsequently shrugged it off. If I fall, he thought, I’ll die doing something I know in my gut I was meant to do.

If Petit could walk the high wire and blind Senora Webster could dive horses from a height of 60 feet…then I can muster the courage to ask for recommendations.

But they might reject me?

So what!

Hillary Clinton supporters: stupid, or just plain emotional?

Posted in Feminist Theory, Personal Essays, Pop Culture by femspotter on September 4, 2008

September 4, 2008

The question has been asked on television news, commentary programs, talk radio and at the office water cooler. Does John McCain really think women in this country are stupid enough to vote for him just because his running mate is a woman?

When I first heard the news that McCain’s choice was made and freshman Governor of Alaska Sarah Palin was on his ticket, I experienced a burst of excitement. Gloria Steinem had said that men of all races will make history before women, and in this case the history was to be made by Democratic nominee Barack Obama, a black man. He’ll be the first black man to become president. Sorry ladies, you’ll have to wait your turn.

I’m not usually the kind of person who follows authority blindly, but it was the Gloria Steinem who had said it. Men will achieve historic milestones in each category before women. I felt a stab of injustice. I fumed and cried for the 80- and 90-year-old women out there who were hoping to see Hillary Clinton assume the presidency, meaning that herstory had been made when this country elected a woman to our highest executive office.

Sarah Palin. Who is that? I didn’t know her from Eve, but suddenly her name sounded really powerful. Maybe she would prove Steinem wrong and pass an historical landmark before a black man had become either president or vice president. Sarah Palin. How bad could she be?

Obama never told us why he didn’t consider Clinton as his running mate. I had thought her the most logical choice. She came in a close second in the primary. She’d been a gracious loser, throwing her support behind Obama. She has some diehard fans. Shouldn’t these qualities make her the runner up for the job, a heartbeat away from the big button? Hey! I demand to know why she wasn’t even considered!

But it’s not my choice. It’s up to the man who won the primary race. And apparently he doesn’t care if roughly 20 percent of Clinton’s voters have pledged to give their votes to McCain.

And now with this Palin upset… People are asking: Are liberal women stupid enough to vote for McCain/Palin just because Palin is a woman?

It’s the wrong question. The correct question is: Are liberal women angry enough to vote Republican?

I’m not stupid and neither are the ladies from the Rutgers University Women’s Studies department who were quoted in last weekend’s New York Times as saying they would write in Clinton’s name when the time comes. It’s not a rational, intellectual reaction that makes us think of betraying party loyalty, it’s an emotional one.

Several weeks ago, I blogged about crying at work. I got a nasty response from somebody out there in the blogosphere telling me that I must be totally insane to cry over a hurtful, misdirected email – somebody emailed me something negative about me instead of sending it to the appropriate (?) person. I should have posted the comment under the essay…but I had an emotional reaction to it and, just like when I cried at work, I acted hastily. I deleted the comment.

My emotions aren’t wrong or bad, but they often make life a bit difficult. Emotional people are the ones who give you the finger if you cut them off in traffic. Emotional people get scared at scary movies and huddle up to the person in the seat next to them. Emotional people take in stray animals. We donate blood. We’re always available to give you a hug. We’re not terrible people…we’re emotional.

Once I saw a woman weeping on a bench in the New York City subway system. I recognized her as a fellow emoter immediately. I thought that perhaps she’d just lost her 12 year-old Labrador Retriever. Maybe, she’d dropped all of her money irrevocably onto the subway tracks. Could it be that her tears were the result of too small underwear wedging into her ass crack? There was just no way to tell.

I wanted to go over to her and lay a hand on her shoulder. I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But because she was crying – for whatever reason – I couldn’t do it. Once emotional, always emotional. If she’s a crier, won’t she be a screamer too? This was New York City. If I offered her sympathy, would I be rewarded with a smack?

Emotion can get a bit unruly, but it’s also fleeting. My knee-jerk reaction to Palin’s nomination was enthusiasm. But I’m all for abortion rights, gay marriage and green initiatives. Palin is completely against abortion under any circumstances. She’s absolutely certain that the only viable “marriage” equation consists of one man and one woman. And she thinks global warming is the process by which flight attendants heat meals on an airplane.

I may have considered voting for McCain during the emotional haze that followed the Palin announcement. But when I do think about those issues, among others, I know that I will not vote Republican. That’s not to say that my Obama vote is etched in stone, however. Remember, I’m emotional. If Obama says or does anything disrespectful to Clinton or to female Democrats in the days just before the election, he’s risking another emotional outburst from us scorned women.

We’re not stupid. We’re just emotional. And emotion isn’t bad or wrong, it’s just impulsive.

The right thing would have been to offer assistance to the crying woman in the subway. I should have braved it. The wrong thing would have been to avoid even considering such a gesture.

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