Designing Me

I had an epiphany last week. Still not sure if that’s the correct word to describe it. It was a feeling that only comes when you’ve lived a certain number of years, long enough to have the ability to see the girl you were 17 years ago; to understand her and know what made her the person she is today; to witness firsthand how what we’re exposed to in our formative years impacts our beliefs, worldviews, who we are in a not-so-perfect nutshell. Epiphanies are much cheaper than therapy; too bad you can’t schedule them like sessions.

For the longest time, I was super-excited to find that the seasons of Designing Women were being released on DVD. I can remember watching episode after episode of that show when I was a wee little thing attending elementary school at St. Catherine of Sienna. My viewing pleasure continued into junior high as I entered the public school system, and began to learn that kids aren’t so nice. At age 12, I guess I seemed pretty weird – enjoying movies made before 1960 and watching TV shows that centered around women in their 30s and 40s. My great-aunt would say I was “of a different era.” That sounded nice, but really didn’t solve my problem of being a weirdo to my fellow classmates.

So, the other day I treated myself and bought Season 2. I couldn’t wait to get home, fight with the NASA-sealed packaging, and re-live those episodes to which I can still recite some dialogue.

For those of you who missed out on watching Lifetime reruns in your youth, Designing Women ran from 1986-1993 and followed the comedic lives of four southern women working for Sugarbaker Interior Design. Julia Sugarbaker (that’s right, she owns her own damn business!) is a classy, strong, sophisticated, well-read, widowed woman of the “old south” – and a self-proclaimed “big-mouthed broad.” Her monologues are things of beauty that I really can’t describe with any justice. Just watch people try to cross her, or make an ignorant comment…they leave the scene with their tail between their legs.

Suzanne Sugarbaker, Julia’s sister, is her polar opposite. Former Miss Georgia World, her glass case of tiaras is enough to make Tiffany’s look like Claire’s. The only collection to rival her pageant crowns is her collection of ex-husbands. Very “Elizabeth Taylor.”  Suzanne is selfish, self-centered, and spends more time looking in the mirror than…anything, really. We’re never quite sure what she even does for Sugarbaker’s – she’s usually seen lounging on the sofa. Despite her fluffy lifestyle and vanity, Suzanne is depicted in such a way that makes her loveable. Her selfishness comes from her own ignorance, not from any malicious intent.  

Mary Jo Shively is a divorced mother of two, dealing with her surgeon ex-husband’s revolving door of girlfriends and spoiling their children with his M.D. income. She’s witty and sarcastic. Strong in her convictions, yet terrified of being in the spotlight. Her struggle with being assertive, yet feeling so vulnerable is all too real (and a welcomed character for those of us who can relate all too well).

Charlene Fraizer has a heart bigger than the state of Georgia. She’s originally from a dinky town in Missouri, which she continuously references in a multitude of irrelevant stories (think Rose Nylund and St. Olaf). She loves Elvis, her Baptist roots, daytime talk shows, psychics and the National Enquirer. She’s fun, bubbly, a little naïve, and her aimless rants can sometimes prove to be a bit annoying to her friends (I believe she was described in one episode as a “big ol’ donkey girl scout”).  

Considering other female foursome shows out there, Designing Women is nothing new. Very similar comparisons can be made to…oh, say, Sex and the City (as if this dead horse hasn’t been beaten enough). Now, I discovered SATC at a later age, and it too has affected my views on what it means to be an independent woman. But (sigh) I must say, after reliving my first female foursome love affair in just one season, I’m going to say DW does it just a little better.

The characters are all there: Julia=Miranda, Mary Jo=Carrie, Suzanne=Samantha, Charlene=Charlotte. Maybe not the same backstories, but their personalities and idiosyncrasies all match up. The differences that do it for me? As opposed to setting the series in glamified Manhattan (I still love you, NY), we’re set in Atlanta, which really doesn’t play as large a character as NYC. As opposed to the SATC cast professing their love for their borough, we find the DW ladies having to defend their south against the elitist north, who still believes all southerners are backward hicks named Bubba. We know our SATC characters have careers (sometimes we wonder, in that they seem to have endless time for long lunches, late night cocktail parties and carefree saunters down 8th Avenue). Many critics have pointed out the ludicrous nature of the fact that Carrie can afford an uptown Brownstone, Manolo Blahniks, daily cab fares, and New York-priced cosmopolitans on a columnist’s salary (you can be a salaried columnist??). What kind of rent-control did I miss out on?  

What I’m attempting to illustrate is that DW’s women are operating in a more believeable reality. The only character living lavishly frivolous is Suzanne – for which she is the butt of many jokes and clearly depicted as not the norm. While all eight women’s struggles may be the same – raising children (or not), being successful in work, making friends, maneuvering the dating world, taking a stand, dealing with illness and sometimes loss – DW is just more relatable (this coming from a Yankee, herself – can you believe it?).  

I don’t think it’s the glitzy NYC lifestyle traded in for a low-key Atlanta (could almost be an Anytown, USA) that makes the total difference. But, as I revisited Season 2, I was astonished to see…well, me. At 10, 11, 12 years old, I was watching stories about a young gay man with AIDS and that no, it’s most certainly NOT a ridiculous punishment from god for what people might refer to as “immorality.” I watched Mary Jo nervously convince the PTA to approve condoms and sex-ed in her children’s school. I saw Charlene stand up to her minister when he voted against women being able to hold his position in the church. I watched Julia – with both barrels loaded – tell off racists, classists, and sexists with her sharp wit and sharper tongue.  

These are the stories I watched as a girl. These are the women I saw in my media. And seeing them reflected in the woman I am today – well, I couldn’t be more thankful for them.  

I leave you with some amazingly awesome quotes from my newly-purchased-and-already-exhausted Season 2:

Mary Jo:  “We’re not just preventing births anymore, we’re preventing deaths…More important than what any civic leader or PTA or Board of Education thinks about teenagers having sex – or any immoral act that my daughter or your son might engage in – is the bottom line that I don’t think they should have to die for it.”

Bernice:  “Just remember, after Christ was crucified on the cross, and all his men had gone home, it was women who stayed until the bitter end. And it was women who first heralded the news of his resurrection. So just put that in your pulpit and smoke it.”

Julia:   “History has shown that in general, it has been the men who have done the raping and the robbing and the killing and the WAR-MONGERING for the last two-thousand years! It has been the men who have done the pillaging and the beheading and the subjugating of WHOLE RACES into slavery! It has been the men who have done the law-making and the money-making AND MOST OF the mischief-making – so, if the world isn’t quite what you had in mind, you have only yourselves to thank!”

The End of an Era

Embarrassingly, I have yet to see the latest installment of Sex and the City. Embarrassed because I am one of many hardcore fans that has followed Carrie through each and every experience documented in that furry, magenta DVD collection. Also, because it has seemed to seriously let down my fellow feminists, and I am – per usual – late with any witty, cynical, analytical critique.

I’m happy to say, my nearest and dearest have not been sitting on the sidelines. First, continuing to inspire me in my writing (as well as in life) is my good friend and feminist conspirator, Holly Kent. The SATC 2 train wreck has moved her to such extent that she’s started Back On Carrie’s Stoop – a journaling, if you will, of her experience as she examines the entire series start to finish, knowing where the end has brought us. Think of it as dusting off old yearbooks and remembering the good old days….but a hell of a lot more fun.

Another good friend – riot grrl, roller grrl, all-around ass-kicker – Cindy Rodriguez has written an amazing piece for Lesbiatopia, examining how a woman can love SATC and still be a – GASP – lesbian…?? Good stuff.

I will be frequenting the literary works of my friends and other feminist lens-wearers until I can be fully prepared to dish out a week’s worth of rent to purchase a nauseatingly overpriced L.A. movie ticket to what Ms. Kent refers to as, “…a film which I knew, with a certainty as sure as death and taxes, that I would whole-heartedly despise.”

Bring on the tartinis.

Trust is a Must

Thirty-seven years ago, the U.S. Supreme Court trusted women. They trusted that they could make the decision (along with their doctors) of bringing another life into the world.

In 2010, despite the vast changes in social norms and society in general, women are NOT being trusted.

NOT being trusted in their decision-making skills.
NOT being trusted in their ability to weigh pros and cons.
NOT being trusted in their understanding of how being a parent is a monumental task.
NOT being trusted to understand their bodies.
NOT being trusted with their life goals, dreams and aspirations.
NOT being trusted with their personal reproductive health.

Perhaps these "non-trusters" think they are doing us a favor...by making the decision FOR us. By stigmatizing the women who choose to not parent. By mandating waiting periods, because you probably haven't thought about your decision "enough". By making minors jump the highest fences to have access to a legal medical procedure, when they may be in an abusive environment. By forcing women to bear the product of rape - which, just so we're clear, is not a justifiable consequence of being "irresponsible" and is NEVER OUR fault.

Don't treat us like we don't know our bodies or ourselves. We do. And our choices are OUR business. Stay out of our lives, because we gladly stay out of yours.

The Value of Trig

Nope, this is not a post about math. I’m referring, of course, to Sarah Palin’s Down Syndrome son – the “symbol” of her pro-life sentiment, making her the mascot for the anti-abortion movement. Hey, if Sun-Maid is updating their look, the crazies might as well do the same.

I find the Right’s take on this mother-son relationship fascinating. Palin happily parades Trig around like a prop, while at the same time throwing around tough Alaskan talk about the press invading her family’s privacy (a la Bristol and Levi). Yet, her supporters applaud this use of her disabled child. Trig was pretty much fresh from the womb when Palin began her campaign for VP - I don’t remember hearing any remarks from conservatives about the fact that she wasn’t at home being a “good little mother/wife/woman” and breastfeeding all day. Because, after all, that’s what women who love the babies do. Why, only selfish, liberal elite women keep their careers while they nurse! Nope, jet-setting around the country for her political career with newborn in tow was A-OK.

The fact that Trig is special-needs is also a great defense for any unfavorable comments that come Palin’s way. Marjorie Dannenfelser, president of the Susan B. Anthony List (an org that supports anti-abortion candidates), explains the “real” reason the pro-choice community ain’t too cool with the former governor:

“She had the audacity in the eyes of the abortion rights world to actually have this child and then has the audacity to bring him along with her and feature him as a centrally valued person in their family.”

Christian conservatives Gary Bauer and Dan Allot add to this nonsense on politico.com:

“Mother and son have become objects of the left’s unrelenting scorn” and of hatred reflecting “a broader societal bias against disability.”

WTF?! So, let me get this straight: not only does the pro-choice community hate babies, but we also hate people with disabilities??? What a crock of shit. When I read these quotes, I can’t get over how ridiculous they are – more so, how ridiculous the people are who actually believe them.

Now, for the truth: it doesn’t bother us whatsoever that Sarah Palin decided to carry her special-needs child to term. More power to her. She had a choice and she chose motherhood. She was fortunate enough to HAVE a god damn choice. That’s what the pro-choice movement is about. Not about killing babies, not about ridding the world of the disabled. What we DO NOT appreciate are those who poo-poo others for making different choices. Bearing children is extremely personal and people’s situations affect it greatly. I mean, really – Sarah Palin will never meet me. I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume she doesn’t lie awake at night thinking about me, my interests, what I do for fun, what I want for my future, what kind of underwear I buy, how often I change my tampon, etc. Why the hell should she and her cronies care about the choices I make for my own body? It all comes down to the old bumper sticker that will always ring true: “Don’t Like Abortion? Don’t Have One.”

Squabble in the Sisterhood

I’ve been a loyal fan of BUST Magazine ever since I discovered it in my college women’s center. It was love at first sight, and I never looked back (only back issues).

I’ve also been a fan of Jessica Valenti and her contributions to feminist culture. I own two of her books, read her rants on feministing religiously and wish I could be her every day of my fucking mediocre life.

But on this November Friday, I opened my BUSTLine Weekly e-mail to find – say it isn’t so! – Ms. Valenti has, for lack of a better term, poo-pooed BUST as a feminist publication!

In her [condensed and edited] interview for the New York Times, Deborah Solomon asks Valenti about other feminist publications, to which she responds:

“Bust used to be a feminist magazine, but now it’s more crafty and about making things out of yarn. I’m not a D.I.Y. feminist. I once tried knitting a scarf but threw it away after 15 minutes.”

Note to self: yarn = not feminist. Wow. I wonder if Jessica knew that many of her fans and readers are also BUSTies. Sure, BUST offers a lot of D.I.Y. projects, but how does that make it any less feminist? Let’s not forget that the D.I.Y. movement was (and still is) strong because of empowered women. What could be more empowering than creating your own shit, I ask you? Perhaps I’m biased because I’m crafty. Although, I will admit, I also tried knitting a few years ago, but quickly lost interest.

I still adore BUST.

Valenti posted an apology in the comments of the BUST article. A student of journalism, I understand how interviews can get nipped and tucked until they hardly resemble the conversation you had – but still, there’s no denying that quote and the feelings it elicits in the BUSTies who read it. Why is it that we as feminists can never seem to move past this “I’m-more-feminist-than-thou” attitude? I’m really sick of people propagating their narrow-minded views of what’s feminist and what’s “not”. I understand that women, as a whole, are extremely different. We come from different regions of the country/planet, different religions/spiritualities; race and class still play a role in each of our worldviews. What makes feminism so amazing is that it has so many different facets – yet, that very fact can also be a curse when we don’t respect other women’s interpretations. We lose sight of the focus and the big picture of the movement; why we’re uniting in the first place. Instead, people want to call attention to irrelevant crap.

What upsets me is the hypocrisy behind the quote. Valenti, feministing, as well as all this other 3rd/4th-wave-feminist-new-media-lit have been criticized as “not feminist enough,” “too girlie” or “too fun” by staunch 2nd wavers. Valenti pretty much made a name for herself by preaching that feminism doesn’t have to come out of a can. Now, the tables are turned, and Valenti is trivializing a magazine that has introduced many to the cause, and kept us here.

Skirting the issue

People never cease to amaze me with asinine comments.

I heard a real gem yesterday. Being Halloween and all, of course the topic of scantily-costumed women was brought up, and how this leads to sexual harassment. Out of the mouth of one of my fellow females came this:

“If they would put some pants on, then they wouldn’t get harassed."

Ah yes, of course! Why didn’t I think of that?! If we just covered our legs and vaginas in a layer of denim, we could, like, tewtally eliminate rape and sexual harassment! What a novel idea!

My head could not take the pressure caused by the utter shock, confusion and anger that was mixing around like beer before liquor. This is why I carry a knife, so I can stab at my temple repeatedly when I hear things like this.

Seriously though, not only was this the DUMBEST thing I’ve heard since George W. Bush last spoke publicly, but it was highly insulting and a real slap in the face to any woman who has been through sexual harassment or assault.

Brush it off, honey, you asked for it.

Clothing – or lack thereof – is in no way a justification for harassment, assault or rape. Period. End of fucking story. It’s just another sneaky way of putting the blame on women. What about the perpetrators?? We’re taught that men’s “urges” are “inevitable,” “unstoppable” – one look at a naked kneecap, and they’re ready to roll. No turning back. Ya shouldn’t have worn XYZ if ya didn’t want to do me. But, anyone who’s not completely dense knows this is a crock of shit. Why? Because if all men’s libidos were uncontrollable, then all men would be rapists – and they’re not. And rape has little to do with being horny and a lot to do with power. So, why aren’t men more insulted by being categorized as savage beasts void of self-control and humanity? Those who are (and I do know they’re out there) need to stand up and say so, if they aren’t already.

So, no – it’s really NOT all about the pants. I know this for a fact because one night a few years ago, I was walking from my car to my apartment sporting jeans, sneakers, a hoodie, sans makeup – and I was STILL greeted by men in a passing car screaming some mumbo jumbo about my “pussy.”

Classy.

Ralph Lauren takes a poo on proportions

What the hell?!

This just ain't right.