ReviewsA White Girl Responds to “Shit White Girls Say About Black Girls”

Have you seen “Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls?” If not, watch it right now:

“Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls” is Franchesca Ramsey’s response to the popular video “Shit Girls Say”, which is a hilarious video that lampoons typical things that “girls” say. (One might think that a feminist like me would automatically find such a video sexist, but I don’t. There’s nothing mean-spirited or nasty about “Shit Girls Say”; it has the tone of a man gently and accurately ribbing one of his female friends or sisters on her mannerisms.) This video, however, takes the parody one step further and ribs white women on the unintentionally racist things they say to black women.

I found this video very, very funny, and also uncomfortable to watch. I’ve said at least three or four of those things over the course of my life, and found the “You guys can do so much with your hair!” the most damning on a personal level. There was a time in my early childhood where I envied black girls for their ability to style their hair and have the style stay in one place and wear dreadlocks and extensions and beads, and enthusiastically announced my envy to my black female classmates, completely unaware (because I was five) of the historical context of white people treating black women and their hair as public property.

As a fairly well-read adult, I now know better than to make these comments that unintentionally mark black women as foreign creatures in their own country that they live in, and this video was a good (and very funny lesson) about how even our intended compliments don’t sound complimentary when we consider historical context.

Apparently, not everyone saw it that way, and Tami Winfrey Harris covers some of the backlash here. Basically, white women have been crying “reverse racism!” and “why wouldn’t it be okay to do something called Shit Black Girls Say to White Girls?!”

It’s a really good article and you should read the whole thing. The writer covers the issue of microaggressions and the very real differences between racist comments from white people and racist comments from black people.

There’s nothing that needs to be added to this because she does a great job explaining the issue in detail, but I’ve been thinking about this issue for awhile and wanted to throw in another perspective – the perspective of a white woman who taught mostly black students for four years.

As a middle school teacher in an urban setting, I had many frank, honest discussions with my students about a wide variety of issues. They never held back from sharing their opinions about any controversial subjects, and class discussions about novels would sometimes sidetrack into loud, lively conversations.

The one issue where my students sometimes held back was on the subject of race.

It didn’t take long for one of the students to bring up the topic of race, but whenever it happened, they would do one of two things: they would show a moment’s hesitation and say, “I know not all white people are like this, but..” or offer a lot of other qualifiers to ensure they wouldn’t offend me, or they would make a comment about “white people” and then get the deer-in-the-headlights look and apologize with a, “Not you, miss!”

Keep in mind that some of these same kids would shout profanities at me if I told them to put their iPods away or spit out their gum, and say these profanities without a trace of shame or fear. They were only concerned about offending me on the issue of race. One day, one of my students announced, completely casually, “I don’t like Jewish people because they don’t like black people,” and after seeing the surprised look on my face, asked in horror, “Oh, are you Jewish? I’m sorry.” (I sputtered something about how prejudice of all kind is bad and then moved on because I honestly didn’t know how to respond to that.)

Except for that one incident, I can’t say that I was offended at all by any comments that my students made about “white people,” but if a white student had made a comment about black people, he would’ve had to haul ass to the assistant principal. (Hypothetically, that is – I didn’t actually have any white students.)

What, you might ask, is the difference?

To put it very simply, black people didn’t spend centuries oppressing white people, owning white slaves, selling white slaves, and raping and impregnating white people to make even more slaves.

To put it another way – what are some of the racist comments you hear white people say about black people? You’ve got the obnoxious comments from the white girl in Franchesca Ramsey’s video calling things “ghetto,” assuming all black people know each other, commenting on people who don’t act “stereotypically black” (implying that “stereotypically black” is bad). But you also have the more hateful comments that white people make about black people – that they’re dirty, or have nasty hair, or that they’re inherently lazy. Working at a school with mostly black students meant I heard these types of comments a lot – if not about the students themselves, then about their parents.

On the other hand, the comments my students would make about white people weren’t of the “ghetto” or “lazy” or “dirty” variety. If they talked about “white people” as a whole, they commented on the way white people treated them: white retail workers, white police offers, other white teachers, assuming they were ghetto or lazy or dirty, or thieves or violent or bad influences, simply because they were black.

In other words, the comments weren’t about disliking white people. They were about mistrusting white people – assuming that white people would assume the worst of them for being black. And this isn’t a mistrust based on negative white stereotypes they see on television or in the media. This is a mistrust based on real life experience, because they or everyone they knew had at least one experience of being a victim of racism. Even the anti-Semitic comment I mentioned about was focused on how my student believed Jewish people perceived him. (I am NOT condoning or excusing anti-Semitism here, just looking at my student’s way of thinking).

There’s an epilogue to this story.

After a few months of the school year, my students and I would start to become more comfortable with each other. We knew each other better and developed a rapport.

On more than one occasion, one of my students might make a comment about “white people” without the usual qualifier. I would jokingly point to myself and say, “Excuse me?” to which my student would wave hir hand dismissively and say, “You don’t count.”

“You don’t count as white.” Yet another comment that can be so loaded depending on the context.

If a white person says to a black person, “I don’t see you as black,” s/he is saying, essentially, “You’re not like those other black people – you know, the bad ones. You’re one of the good ones. Nice job!” or “I’m erasing an important part of you so I can make myself good about being liberal. BLAH BLAH COLORBLIND SOCIETY BLAH BLAH.”

That’s not what my students were saying to me. When they said they didn’t see me as white, it was a sign of trust. “You’re not like those other white people – you know, the ones who think the worst of us because we’re black.”

This isn’t to say that there are no black people who never make truly racist comments, or no white people who are sensitive to race issues. This isn’t to brag about how I was SUCH AN AWESOME TEACHER OMG!!! or to hold myself as a paragon of a Non-Racist White Person.

My only goal is to add to the dialogue and show how the same statement can be completely different when coming from different people. Context matters.

And if, after viewing “Shit White Girls Say About Black Girls,” reading Tami Winfrey Harris’s article, and reading this post, you still think that black people shouldn’t be making these “assumptions” about white people? Then be vocally anti-racist and give people a reason to trust you. Don’t complain that it isn’t fair that you don’t get to say the n-word. That’s not a privilege worth winning.

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Reviews“Love” is “Actually” All Around Us (and Other Not-So-Deep Sentiments)

It’s January 2012 and time for The Rom-Com Project to begin. Each month, I will be viewing a set of romantic comedies that fit into a certain theme. January’s theme is “Ensemble Romantic Comedies.”

For me, the quintessential Ensemble Romantic Comedy is Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It has all the ingredients of an Ensemble Rom-Com: all sets of characters are consumed by some form of love, and all sets of characters are connected by some overarching theme or event. In Midsummer’s case, the overarching event is the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta – an event that is of utmost important to Oberon/Titania/Puck, Bottom and the other mechanicals, and Hermia/Lysander/Helena/Demetrius, but concerning characters who are much less entertaining and engaging than the three sets of characters I just mentioned. (The play also explores themes of magic, love triangles, deception, and all sorts of interesting ideas that makes it one of Shakespeare’s best comedies.)

In the case of Love Actually, the Theseus/Hippolyta’s wedding is Christmas – or, arguably, the terminal at Heathrow Airport – and the three sets of main characters become nine sets of characters, and the themes of magic/love triangles/deception is whittled down to a Captain Obvious statement about love: “Love is actually all around us.”

Wow. Really? Love is everywhere, movie? Really?

Yes, I’m being sarcastic, and maybe I shouldn’t be. I don’t think Love Actually is meant to be incredibly deep or profound. I think it’s meant to be a movie that shows a series of fleeting moments and how people are connected to each other, and that’s it. It explores different types of (heterosexual) love, and some stories end sadly while others end happily.

The problem for me is that the only stories that worked for me were the ones that ended on a sad note. Continue reading

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Blog PostsHappy New Year!

Happy New Year, everyone! This is a friendly reminder/request to donate to Rough Magic if you can.

I also wanted to let everyone know that posting will be light for the next few weeks. Personal stuff has gotten in the way of my regular posting – nothing life-threatening or too serious, but definitely time-consuming. I will be kicking off the Rom-Com Project soon, but probably won’t be posting about anything else until those issues are taken care of. Thanks for your patience.

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Blog PostsThe Crime of Being Girly

Jane Austen’s novels. Sex and the City. Twilight.

This sounds like the setup to a really bad, bizarre joke, doesn’t it? “Jane Austen’s novels, Sex and the City, Twilight walk into a bar…”

I’m sure even looking at all of those names together will make some fellow Austenites spin in their graves – and if they’re not dead, will make them dig their own graves just so they can have something to spin in. But there is something that Jane Austen’s novels, Sex and the City, and Twilight have in common: they all appeal to women.

This does not mean that all three of these things – or indeed, any of these three things – appeal to all women. It means that Jane Austen’s novels, Sex and the City, and Twilight are written for a female audience, have female protagonists, and deal with stereotypically feminine issues such as marriage and dating.

As a result, all three of these things are often met with sneers and eyerolls and condescending comments about how they can’t be that important because they deal with women’s issues like marriage and dating and fashion-related shopping – as though women’s issues are inherently less important than men’s issues, and as though men never marry, date, or buy clothes.

Don’t believe me? Check out this, this, this, and this. The last one particularly irks me because Jane Austen’s writing is probably less sentimental than Shakespeare’s, but because she’s a woman, she gets slammed with the “sentimental” moniker – which, in this context, is meant as an insult.

(These are not the only female-centric works that receive this kind of criticism, of course. I chose these three because I have a lot of contempt for Twilight, I enjoy Sex and the City but find some aspects of it annoying and problematic, and I love Jane Austen’s novels like I love a good red wine – and I wanted to show how the same kind of sexism is very easily found in criticism of all three of these things.)

When I was younger, I had a knee-jerk reaction against anything that was stereotypically feminine. I wrote lengthy pieces of text about how much I hated Titanic and Leonardo DiCaprio and shared these opinions with everyone who didn’t want to hear it (I was a lonely child). If I admitted to watching Dawson’s Creek, I had to quickly mention that I actually hated it and was just watching because of how bad it was (I wasn’t – I watched because I liked Michelle Williams and was in love with Pacey). If I admitted to reading The Baby-sitters Club as a kid, I quickly added, “But I also really like Star Wars!”

It wasn’t a lie. I did really like Star Wars, and still do. I love Lost and Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter and A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones and everything the Monty Python troupe has done and Disney/Pixar movies. I also love Jane Austen and Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Clueless and When Harry Met Sally… and The Baby-sitters Club and Disney Princess movies.

This is just a short list of pieces of entertainment that are near and dear to my heart. (I still haven’t mentioned The Simpsons, which may be my favorite form of entertainment I have ever consumed.) But the first group of texts prominently feature male writers AND/OR male protagonists, and the second group of texts prominently feature female writers AND/OR female protagonists.

“So? If you believe in equality between men and women, and you’re a feminist, and you love male-centric and female-centric entertainment equally, what’s the big deal? What’s the difference?”

The difference is in how I [used to] talk about those texts.

If I brought up Lost or Lord of the Rings or Star Wars, I was trying to impress a boy I liked (in a friendly or romantic context) by showing how much of a “guy” I could be. I thought he would like me more if I liked “guy” things.

If I brought up Buffy or The Baby-sitters Club, it was among my female friends, or I would use it as a preface when talking to boys. “Yeah, I really like Buffy…but I also really like Lost and Lord of the Rings and Star Wars! IT’S OKAY! I LIKE THAT ONE GIRLY THING BUT I’M STILL COOL!”

Because “things boys like” were cool and “things girls like” were uncool.

This was back in my teenage years, where my definition of feminism was “proving how I am better and different from all those other girls.” Unfortunately, this attitude doesn’t end in high school for all people. I’ve had lengthy conversations with a man who insisted, “Don’t assume I don’t like Jane Austen just because I’m a guy,” and after I agreed not to stereotype him that way, proceeded to tell me on several different occasions that women only like Jane Austen because of Mr. Darcy. (No, he did not see the irony or the contradiction in these two statements.)

This instinct – this instinct to put down our girly interests to impress boys – is a result of years and years of societal conditioning. Even at my age, I still have to fight the instinct to apologize for my more stereotypically girly interests. In a conversation with my own boyfriend, I felt the need to reassure him that I really really like Led Zeppelin (I do) which should make up for the fact that I also really really like Broadway musicals (I do). This pressing need to reassure him wasn’t based on anything he had said or done – he shared my love of Led Zeppelin, but didn’t think less of me for liking musicals. This pressing need was based on my years of conditioning to talk up my stereotypically masculine interests and talk down my stereotypically feminine interests.

Now that I’m more active in my feminism, I (mostly) reject the need to apologize for my feminine interests. In fact, I might be veering too far in the opposite direction.

Please keep in mind that I don’t think it’s possible to “go too far” with the concept of feminism and equality between men and women. That’s not what I mean about “veering too far in the opposite direction.” I only mean that, because of the sexism that I see in criticism of female-centric texts, I’m automatically suspicious of any criticism of these texts.

This knee-jerk reaction is very inconvenient. I don’t even like Twilight, yet I feel the need to defend it when George Takei calls for sci-fi fans to hate on Twilight. “There’s a battle between Trekkies and Star Wars fans but let’s all agree that this girly thing really sucks!”

Having consumed all of the Twilight books, and having seen the original Star Wars Trilogy, and having seen some of the best episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I can say without a doubt that I find Twilight far inferior to those two series.

But I still can’t enjoy that call to arms to hate on Twilight. Not after reading those articles about entitled fanboys foaming at the mouth at the very idea of girls showing up at Comic-Con to enjoy things that they (boys) don’t also enjoy.

Going to Comic-Con and enjoying a text or franchise that doesn’t meet with the (Male) Sci-Fi Geek Seal of Approval inspires hatred and entitlement and sarcastic mockery, a “how dare they intrude on our space” complaint. Girls drooling over Edward Cullen is a sign of the apocalypse, and a sign that these girls need some serious psychotherapy before they find real-life abusive, stalkery boyfriends – but guys drooling over Megan Fox in the Transformers series is just an example of boys being boys, and not a sign of holding their own impossible standards for women.

Maybe this “Star Wars, Star Trek, whatever, we all hate Twilight” argument is all a bit of tongue-in-cheek fun. Maybe it’s just another example of two male-dominated groups getting together to agree that this girly thing that girls like really sucks and is terrible. Or maybe it’s a weird combination of the two, where the intent is to just make fun of a text that is straight-up bad writing, but the effect is just another example of girly stuff lambasted by groups of (mostly) guy fans.

Sometimes, the distinction is so fine that I really can’t tell the difference.

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Blog PostsOn Representation and Diversity: Don’t Forget the Left-Handed Lithuanians!

Confused by the title of this post? Let me explain.

My late, beloved grandfather was a man with a delightful, dry wit. The best example of his wit (that I know of) comes from a conversation he had with my beloved grandmother. He used to call her “Mother,” and one day she told him, “Don’t call me ‘Mother.’ I’m not your mother and it makes me feel old.” So he started calling her “Mothra” after the giant moth monster from Japanese cinema. Like I said, he was a funny, funny man.

Anyway, he had a favorite joke related to political correctness. During conversations about diversity and more representation for different groups of people, he would joke, “Don’t forget the left-handed Lithuanians!” The joke was commenting on the rigid nature of political correctness and pointing out that, essentially, someone, somewhere is going to offended by what you say, no matter what it is.

Flash to the present day. A few months ago, I had a conversation on Facebook about the lack of diversity in television shows that take place in New York City. Many television shows lack diversity, but shows that take place in New York City – one of the most diverse cities in the United States – strike me as particularly egregious. We talked about how shows like Friends, How I Met Your Mother, and (to a lesser extent) Seinfeld have a diversity problem. Someone else made a sarcastic, jokey comment about creating a “checklist” of nationalities and religious backgrounds that should be included in forms of entertainment to ensure that a work of art is properly diverse.

That’s when I realized why so many conversations about diversity go so wrong, and why the “left-handed Lithuanian” approach to talking about diversity and political correctness goes awry (with all due respect to my wonderful Grandpa).

Diversity isn’t about ensuring that every character in a book, or a television program, or a movie, or a play comes from a different background, and that every single one of these characters is fully-developed and completely without stereotypes. A show like Grey’s Anatomy doesn’t fail some kind of straw diversity test because you can look at the cast of characters and say, “It has more than one black person, a few gay characters, an Asian character, a Mexican-American woman, and more than one fat person, but whoops, no disabled characters or Arab-Americans! YOU FAIL AT DIVERSITY!”

Diversity is about taking a step back from your own experiences and considering NOT making your cast filled with just white people.

Diversity isn’t about blaming one or two shows like Friends or How I Met Your Mother for all the white people on television. Pretending that Friends and How I Met Your Mother caused the lack-of-diversity problem doesn’t help (and for the record, neither of the people I talked to about those shows tried to make that argument).

Diversity is about looking at the way shows like Friends and How I Met Your Mother may unintentionally perpetuate an existing stereotype or offensive trope, and how those examples fit into a larger systemic problem.

Diversity isn’t about calling up Carter Bays and Craig Thomas (creators of How I Met Your Mother) and informing them that they must be racist because they don’t have any regular characters who aren’t white. After all, their show is loosely autobiographical and based on their own experiences as two straight white guys; they’re writing about what they know.

Diversity is about leveling the playing field, about movie and television executives having a little more imagination and hiring more actors, producers, and writers who aren’t straight white guys, so that more people who are not straight white guys have the opportunities to tell their stories as well.

(Also, just for the record: I’m using “straight white guy” as a catch-all term for “privileged,” not trying to imply that homophobia, racism, and sexism are the only types of systemic prejudices out there. I haven’t even gotten into transphobia, fat hatred, ableism, classism, anti-Semitism, etc.)

If all of this still doesn’t make sense, or makes you want to respond with a “Yeah, but…”, consider this. I give Glee a lot of well-deserved shit, but the “Mash-Off” episode included a scene between Mercedes and Santana where they had a brief confrontation over leadership of the Troubletones singing group before reaching an agreement. I sat there and thought, “I am watching a scene between two women of color, one of whom is gay. These two women of color – one of whom is gay – are the main contenders for group leader, and are considered the two most talented members of this singing group.”

It was rather remarkable.

You know why it was remarkable? Because it was rare.

I look forward to a day where such scenes are not remarkable, where a scene on television between two women of color – one of whom is gay – is so ordinary and commonplace that it doesn’t even occur to me to comment on it.

And yes, I’m sure this can be accomplished even without completely ruining the career opportunities of straight white guys.

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ReviewsA “Community” Pre-Hiatus Wrap-Up

I hate to type the words “Community” and “hiatus” in the same sentence, but unfortunately, this show – this brilliant, funny, weird show – is going on hiatus for an indefinite period of time, because NBC hates me and wants to ruin my life.

Anyway, I haven’t written reviews of individual episodes since the Halloween one, and I figured now was a good time to talk about the last few pre-hiatus installments of Community and what they meant to me.

3.06 “Advanced Gay” – This episode included a fair amount of gay stereotypes that I didn’t find so much offensive and hurtful as lazy writing. Fortunately, Dan Harmon apologized for it and didn’t rely on a half-assed “but I have gay friends!” non-apology.

Aside from that issue, I have to say that this episode showed, in a nutshell, why Britta is the worst best. She’s someone who truly cares about her friends and is completely right when she notices the Oedipal complex manifesting in their interactions, but she mispronounces it as “Edible” and doesn’t know what Oedipus did to his mother because she didn’t finish reading the chapter. That’s Britta: insightful, caring, pushy, and lazy.

I also love that the show actually went as far as to have Jeff’s words kill Pierce’s dad. I was expecting a heart attack that would end up with Pierce’s dad in a hospital bed next to Pierce and a heartfelt conversation that would repair any wounds between them. I should have known that the show was better than that. Pierce’s relief at his father’s passing, as opposed to his denial and grief when he lost his mother, was an interesting, dark contrast.

3.07 “Studies in Modern Movement” – I love Troy and Abed’s friendship. I love how, unlike many “bromances” presented in fiction that seem intent on guys being as obnoxiously macho as possible, their dynamic is sweet and innocent. But most of all, I love that they encourage and welcome Annie moving in with them. They don’t see it as a girl mucking up their perfect bromance with her girly presence; they see it as adding another person to play with. And when she makes a legitimate request to have a room that isn’t a blanket fort, they only pout for a little while before giving her their room and moving into the blanket fort themselves.

Another thing that struck me the second time I watched this episode was the fact that Jeff ditched on helping with the move not because he’s lazy and a bad friend, but because – as he said to his therapist (!) – he needed to be alone that weekend. What is going on with Jeff this season?

3.08 “Documentary Filmmaking Redux” – Finally, a showcase for our favorite pansexual Dean Pelton. I’m so glad that Jim Rash was made a series regular and I thought he did a wonderful job here. But my favorite non-Dean moments were Jeff’s admission that he had made bald friends, and the Troy/Britta hug-and-recoil.

I was also genuinely moved by Abed taking pity on the Dean and breaking from his role as the objective observer, and Jeff hugging the Dean.

3.09 “Foosball and Nocturnal Vigilantism” – Not many people liked the Troy/Annie/Abed subplot of the episode, but I enjoyed watching Troy take on the rare role as the most mature and logical one of the group (who no one listened to, of course). Sometimes I think Troy is just the most adorable character on television – believing that the animal hospital had animal doctors, “locking” his blanket fort with a key, and, “Wait a minute…Rick doesn’t have a wife. [angrier, more suspicious] Or women’s feet!”

Still, the real showcase of the episode was the Jeff/Shirley foosball war. I loved everything about it – the Germans, the schadenfreude & Donkey Kong jokes, the anime battle with the random cat appearance. I loved that all of the jokes from previous episodes about Shirley and Jeff being the same age (with Shirley being indignant that people think she’s old) were leading up to a revelation that they knew each other as children, and that Shirley’s bullying was a catalyst for many of Jeff’s insecurities.

3.10 “Regional Holiday Music” – I have very little deep commentary about this episode. It was just hilarious, a brilliant send-up of Glee, and any show that can have an Invasion of the Body Snatchers parody within a Glee parody within a Christmas episode will always have a place in my heart. Abed summed it up best when he said, “Maybe forcing things to be bright just makes the darkness underneath even darker.” It’s the best, most succinct description of just how toxically mean-spirited Glee has become while still proclaiming to be a show about love and acceptance.

Greendale is truly more accepting and kind than the McKinley High glee club has been for years. “Greendale is an all-inclusive school. Why don’t we let Britta sing her awkward song?” Britta’s part of their family. They’re allowed to make fun of her, but outsiders are not allowed to tell her she’s the worst.

I’ve also been watching Parks and Recreation since the show follows Community. As I mentioned in an earlier post, Parks and Recreation is a show that I appreciate more than I personally enjoy, that I’m glad exists because of its explicitly feminist main character and her mutually supportive relationship with her best female friend, but doesn’t particularly make me laugh. It’s a show that I’m happy other people enjoy that I only occasionally find funny.

As I’ve watched a few season four episodes, the show started growing on me a little more. I do find most of the characters engaging and likable if not laugh-out-loud funny (except for the always adorable Andy Dwyer and the libertarian government employee Ron Swanson), and even Tom and April have their moments (“Treat yo self!” “It’s the Black-Eyed Peas, and I finally killed them. It’s a Christmas miracle.”) I understand the appeal of watching a show where you just want to spend time with these people every week.

But watching Parks and Recreation following Community just highlighted the difference between a show that makes me say “aww, that’s nice” and a show that will leave me howling with laughter one minute and getting tear-eyed over a sweet moment only minutes later.

Parks and Recreation is a show about nice people who lead nice lives and are pretty nice to each other. That’s nice. Community is a show about deeply messed-up people who are not always nice to each other, but who are rarely mean out of malice and spite – they’re sometimes mean because they’re deeply insecure and traumatized and lonely. But even though they lash out at each other, they love and support each other, too.

This is why, though I understand why others find him off-putting, I’ll always have a soft spot for Jeff Winger. Underneath the Blackberry-toting, obnoxiously self-confident, douchebag persona, is still the fatherless little boy who never felt like he was good at sports, who enjoyed dressing as a little Indian girl for Halloween but then felt ashamed for enjoying it, who peed his pants in front of everyone.

I love this show because it explores the characters’ deep psychological issues, and finds the humor in those moments without laughing at the characters. We laugh at Joel McHale’s horrified expression when adult Jeff realizes Shirley was his childhood tormenter, but when we flash back to little Jeff crying and peeing his pants in front of a room of bullies, we just want to give the poor kid a hug.

Community gets a lot of credit for its snappy dialogue, its brilliant background moments worthy of The Simpsons, its incredible cast, its exploration of genre, and its commitment to silliness and absurdity. But I don’t think the show gets nearly enough credit for the obvious love and empathy the writers have for their characters.

I think that’s why I appreciate Parks and Recreation more than I love it, and why I love Community so much more. A show with nice people being nice to each other is nice. A show with deeply messed-up (but mostly not vicious) people who aren’t used to having real friends, who are still finding their way around being the family they’ve always wanted, is so ripe for comedy and dramatic moments.

This is why Ben and Leslie declaring their love for each other via court stenographer was sweet without being saccharine, and was a clever way of getting around the typical “love declaration” trope, and made me smile, but little Jeff and little Shirley walking arm-in-arm, putting their painful history behind them and forgiving each other, made me cry.

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Blog Posts“But”: the Rape Apologist’s Favorite Conjunction

Today I’m going to talk about the word “but.”

“But” is a conjunction used to connect two different clauses, where the second clause will contradict or negate the information in the first clause.

“I usually love this restaurant, but tonight their service is really bad.”

“I’d love to go to your birthday party, but I have to babysit my little brother that night.”

Notice that in both of these sentences, the second clause has more emphasis than the first clause. The second clause after the “but” is communicating what the person really wants to say. The first clause is simply the disclaimer, the extra information, the apology. The person spoken to isn’t really listening to the first half of the sentence. S/he doesn’t need to know that the other person would “love” to go to hir birthday party, only that s/he can’t.

“I really like you, but not in a romantic way.”

“I like you a lot, but I can’t date because I’m still not over my ex.”

These two examples of “but” sentences are more hurtful than the first two examples I used. The clause preceding the “but” is the clause meant to cushion the blow, and the clause following the “but” is the person telling the other how s/he really feels. The first part of the sentence is irrelevant. It’s the second part of the sentence that delivers the stinging blow. In fact, the person on the listening end already knows to expect disappointment and heartbreak just at hearing the word “but.” They hear “but” and they know what’s coming.

Keep all of this in mind as you look at the next sentences:

“No one deserves to be raped, but she really shouldn’t have been walking in that neighborhood at night.”

“Obviously the rape wasn’t her fault, but why was she drinking and then going home by herself?”

“Rapists have to be held accountable for their actions, but her outfit was really inappropriate.”

The “but” isn’t as innocuous anymore, is it? That little three-letter-word that sounds like a body part is suddenly the tool to change the shape of the conversation about sexual assault: to shift the conversation from the rapist’s actions to the victim’s behavior.

Many of us do this, and many do it unconsciously. There are, of course (and unfortunately), many people in this world who support rape, or excuse it, or hatefully blame the victim for being raped instead of the rapist for choosing to rape.

BUT there are others of us, others who don’t condone rape at all, who have a sense of compassion and decency and who really and truly mean well, who still engage in this practice.

We do it because we really think that people can put themselves in better positions to not be raped. We do it because we’re secretly, deep down, afraid that the same thing could happen to us, and making it the victim’s fault or “responsibility” means that it can’t happen to us. We’re too smart to “allow” that to happen to us.

BUT if you’re ever in another situation where you have the opportunity to comment on a rape, and a part of you thinks that the victim was a little foolish to drink that much at the bar, a little naive to believe she could trust that guy she just met, or just plain stupid to walk around in that part of town, and you want to open your mouth and voice that opinion – don’t.

Stop. Think. Ask yourself, “Is what I’m about to say going to support a rape victim, or support a rapist?”

Ask yourself if the rape victim in question, or other rape victims in the conversation who might not have told you they were assaulted themselves, is going to find any comfort in what you say…or if s/he is going to swallow that feeling of disgust and fear and bravely smile while silently chiding hirself for being stupid enough to be assaulted.

Ask yourself if a rapist or a potential rapist who hears this comment will internalize the clause that comes before the “but”…or if the rapist/potential rapist will only receive further confirmation that s/he can assault someone and will likely get away with it, because s/he knows the conversation will only turn back to the victim’s behavior and what the victim could have done differently.

Saying “Rape is bad, but…” is not going to transform a decent person into a rapist. It may very well bring further satisfaction to a person who has already raped somebody.

You may still privately believe that the victim was foolish for having that drink, or naive for trusting that person, or just plain stupid for walking around in that neighborhood – after all, people have lowered senses of judgment when they’re drunk, strangers can’t be trusted, and that neighborhood has a high crime rate.

It may be true that that neighborhood has a high crime rate, and that strangers can’t be trusted, and it’s definitely true that many people have less judgment when they’re drunk.

It doesn’t matter. People drink, talk to strangers, and walk in dangerous neighborhoods all the time. Most of the time, they do all of these things without being assaulted. Other times, bad things happen to them. Bad things happen because other people choose to do bad things, not because the victim was doing something stupid.

You don’t need to voice every thought that comes to your head. Even if you still think, after reading all this, that people who walk in those neighborhoods are increasing their chances of danger…stop before you say it out loud. You are not helping by saying this out loud. Even if you mean well, “intent” and “effect” are not the same thing, and it’s not worth the risk.

Look at those sentences earlier in the post without the “buts.”

“No one deserves to be raped.”

“Obviously the rape wasn’t her fault.”

“Rapists have to be held accountable for their actions.”

When it comes to conversations about rape, that’s really all you have to say.

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Blog PostsThoughts on Censorship

My posting has been light in the past week, as I’ve been fighting off a monster cold and can’t seem to stare at a computer screen for longer than a few minutes until the phlegm overtakes the back of my throat and puts me in a state where I can barely read what’s in front of me. I have many movie trailer reviews to write now that OSCAH SEASON is upon us, and I promise I will get to them once I feel better.

For now, I’m going to offer very brief thoughts about the issue of censorship.

My post from a few weeks ago, “On Rape Jokes,” has been making the rounds in the blogosphere, linked to by other bloggers and shared in other comment sections. It’s quickly become one of my most-read posts. Of course, there are people who have problems with it, and I’ve read comments on other forums that are more vile and disgusting than the imagery I used in the first paragraph of this post. I’m not going to link to those comments, because why offer vile people more attention? But I will talk about the gist of the complaints and the mockery: the assertion that I am censoring people by talking about how rape jokes are damaging.

I could comment on people’s misplaced priorities and valuing their right to say whatever the hell they want, regardless of the effect it might have on other people’s feelings.

I could question why rape jokes need to be defended in the first place.

I could comment on the irony of people calling feminists “too sensitive” for not liking rape jokes while simultaneously whining that they don’t wanna give up telling rape jokes, and acting like the equivalent of children stalking off to their rooms to sulk when grownups took their favorite toys away.

But instead, I’m going to ask a question of my readers, and anyone is free to respond, whether you’re a regular reader or first-time commenter:

Could someone please explain to me how a person writing on her own blog about her personal opinions regarding rape jokes, carefully using “I” statements such as “I don’t like rape jokes that…” “I prefer jokes that…” counts as censorship of others?

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Blog PostsLessons I Have Learned from Glee

I gave up watching entire episodes of Glee for the most part (though I briefly checked in to watch “Mash-Off” because I liked all the songs). As someone who likes to pay attention to Things Going On in the media, however, I have read other reviews of the latest batch of episodes and absorbed some of the major storylines.

Over the past two and a half years, Glee has transitioned from a dark comedy to a show about messages. The Glee 3-D Concert Movie (or whatever the official title is, I can’t be bothered to look it up) was a movie dedicated to the show kissing its own ass about how many wonderful messages it sends kids these days.

Well, I’d like to take a moment to talk about the lessons I have learned from these years of watching Glee.

1. Bullying is serious business, except when it’s not.
The bullying of Kurt is bad, except when he’s being comically tossed into dumpsters. Sue calling Kurt “Lady” is bullying, but Sue shoving an old woman down a flight of stairs is hilarious. Artie being locked in a Port-a Potty is serious, but a one-off joke about Puck shoving Artie down stairs in his wheelchair is perfectly acceptable.

Why are some instances serious and worthy of public service announcements while others are meant to be hilarious? Uh, because the writers said so.

2. Ambitious women need to be put in their places.
It’s not enough for Rachel Berry to have to learn the same lesson over and over again about being too ambitious and stepping all over other people to get what she wants. Now, she has to learn a lesson and be put in her place even when she cheats to help a friend. Even when she does something for another person, she needs to learn a lesson about wanting things too much. How dare Rachel want things for herself and other people.

(As a side note, I hope this particular item on the list will discourage posters from being overly concerned that I’m not kissing Lea Michele’s ass enough for their tastes. For the record: I neither love nor hate Rachel Berry, I neither love nor hate Lea Michele, I acknowledge that Lea is a very talented singer, but I often don’t enjoy watching her perform, and nothing you say will make me change my mind. The performers I enjoy watching the most are Darren Criss, Naya Rivera, Harry Shum Jr., and Chris Colfer, and that’s a completely subjective opinion, not a fact.)

3. Lesbians exist as more than objects for the male gaze, except for when they don’t.
I can’t think of a better song for a lesbian to sing about being out and proud than Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl,” the anthem for bi-curious women who like to kiss other women for the sake of titillating their boyfriends, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate female homosexuality than to have a bunch of girls writhe all over each other to please their male classmates and fellow club members.

Oh, wait. Yes. Yes, I can. I can think of many better ways to do that.

4. Bullies all secretly hate themselves and are deeply insecure people.
They’re never narcissists with inflated senses of entitlement who honestly don’t care about the feelings of others, despite overwhelming research that proves just this.

5. Straight people get to decide when gay people should come out of the closet./Boys get to decide when girls have to face their issues./Friends are allowed to tell friends how to handle their problems.
Remember, folks, if you have a friend (or frenemy, or someone you once banged and then described the experience as meaning “nothing” to you who you now suddenly care about) who is dealing with a personal problem, the best way to help that friend is to put said friend in a forced intervention. If the friend objects to this show of support for whatever reason, you can ignore it, because you know what’s good for your friend better than your friend does. Besides, if the friend initially is sarcastic, s/he’ll eventually be completely grateful for your forced help. Just keep persisting.

After all, we all know that “no” really means “yes.”

Speaking of which…

6. Rape is still totally hilarious.
Brittany described her first time having sex as taking place in cheerleading camp when a boy crawled into her tent. Then she says it was an “alien invasion.” So, she was probably raped. LOL, right?

Gosh, folks, I have so many more important lessons that I have learned from watching Glee, but I don’t have the time to write them all! Why don’t you readers add to the list in comments, and share the wonderful things you have learned from this remarkably progressive and message-y show!

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Blog PostsA Note on Commenting

I’m back from my self-imposed Thanksgiving break. Hi, everyone!

I was browsing through the comments recently left on my blog. The comments were varied and interesting, but some were less than polite or very off-topic, and I realized it was past time for me to define the commenting policy on this blog.

1. Interesting comments will receive replies. I can’t promise that they will receive replies immediately. Sometimes the most interesting comments wind up in the spam folder by mistake. Sometimes I’m too busy to reply right away and then I’ll forget to respond for weeks. (Or months…) But I do my best.

2. I like comments that assume good faith. What do I mean by “good faith?” I mean “sincere, honest intention or belief.” I’m a thoughtful person and I try to take people’s feelings into account whenever I write my posts, but occasionally, I’m going to screw up. I’m a human being and human beings make mistakes. If you get the sense that I’m ever trying to be malicious or willfully ignorant of people’s feelings, I’m not.

What does this mean? It means that, if you have a problem with something I wrote, feel free to point it out, but do it politely. I’m willing to listen if you express your thoughts with consideration.

3. Disagreement is appreciated. Snottiness is not. If you can’t do the first without including the second, you have more problems than I do. If I see an interesting point in your comment, I’ll throw out an “I don’t like your tone, young lady/man!” like an overbearing grandmother but then continue the conversation. People with interesting things to say deserve second chances.

4. Trolls will be deleted and then openly mocked. You’ve seen the “troll droppings” tag. People who leave trollish comments will be written about and mocked. Troll droppings, by the way, are not the same thing as polite disagreement. Troll droppings are comments designed for the sole purpose of berating me, flaming people, or getting on my nerves. Usually, they just make me laugh.

And speaking of troll droppings,

5. Comments are moderated by me and I have to approve of them before they appear on the blog. As the blogmistress, I have control over which comments appear publicly and which ones do not.

So, the poster known as Successful Troll is Successful who obviously created a dummy hotmail email account for the sole purpose of leaving a troll dropping on one of my posts? You have been foiled. You are not a successful troll at all, because a) no one saw your comment but me, b) I shall be deleting said comment forthwith, c) you did not succeed in making me angry, and finally, d) your troll dropping was too boring for me to even mock with its own special write-up.

That, my friends, is How You Fail At The Internet.

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