I’m not entirely clear what this has to do with masculinity, but it’s chilly in Austin today, and so I wore my sweatshirt hood up on the walk from home to bus and then bus to office, and therefore had cause to reflect, once again, on the inadequacy of the tiny comb.
Y’see, I realized at some point a few months ago that there were times at work when I needed to comb my hair (maybe, for instance, because it’s cold out and I want to wear a hat or a hood and my hair gets mussed as a result). So the next time I was at Target I bought a comb. Actually, I bought two combs, because I’d recently forgotten my home comb at my parents’ house while visiting them in Massachusetts. For the house I bought one of those big, nice, shiny black Conair combs, with the healthy-sized tines. For the office I bought a tiny comb — because it was a dollar or so cheaper, and because it seemed too vain somehow to have a full-sized comb at the office.
Alas, it turns out that the tiny comb isn’t just a regular comb but smaller — it’s in all ways a lesser comb. It’s awkward to hold. The space between tines is just too small for comfort, even if you have the relatively fine hair that I do. And it just doesn’t give me the volume that I need.
Fie on you, tiny comb!
ITEM TWO:
Jamie gave me a bit of a hard time last week because when I finally mustered the cojones to attack a feminist, I picked a dude feminist. Jamie said:
attacking a MALE feminist?!: dood, you are so effin’ whipped.
To which I say: granted, but give a brother a break. Them feminists are scary, what with their equality-wanting and sexism-hating and everything.
Seriously, though. The conclusion I’m slowly coming to, as I strive to find the maximally fruitful point of contention with feminism, is that it’s not the philosophy of feminism that bothers me (in fact it usually persuades me), nor is it that I detect much in the way of man-hating from the practicing feminists in the blogosphere (with the notable exception of I Blame the Patriarchy, which is wonderful and refreshing in its man-hating).
My problem is that the feminist blogosphere is basically activist-oriented. It’s about keeping people informed about sexism in the world, and how to fight it, and people who’ve been successful fighting it, and so on. It’s about getting things done, and building solidarity, and keeping up morale. Since I’m neither a feminist activist nor someone whose primary interest is in feminism, it’s just not that compelling to me, and at times seems too self-congratulatory or ideological.
What’s I miss — what I want — is more women writing about the day-to-day struggles of living as a woman, and as a feminist, in this country. What it’s like when it’s not so clear what the feminist answer is, or when the feminist answer conflicts with your temperament, or your relationship, or your job?
What are the issues involved in wearing (or not wearing) a bra to work? To what extent do you want to control the television your kids watch to minimize the sexist content they’re getting? Do you sometimes put a feminist gloss on your difficulty compromising with your boyfriend even though you really know that you just don’t want to give in?
I’d like to read more women writing about being in abusive relationships, or being raped (I know that sounds weird, but how else are men going to understand what it’s like unless we hear women talking about it), or just being weak. I get tired of the up with women thing sometimes — it seems pretty disconnected from my life, and I grew up surrounded by feminists.
All of which is to say that I’m going to try to find some feminists to pick fights with, but it’ll be for the best of reasons — because I find it interesting.
