archived goatee
"and you don't
seem to understand"
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archived goatee
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A forthcoming book "A Natural History of Rape: Biological Bases of Sexual Coercion" has created a little firestorm amongst the intellectuals. In an article entitled, "Scientists: Rape not about power, but sex" the reporter wrote:
... Their theory sets rape alongside the bendable thumb as a "natural, biological phenomenon."They point out that most rape victims are of child-bearing age (rapes of teenaged women are 8,400% more frequent than rapes of women between the ages 50 and 64), that many cultures treat rape as a crime against the victim's husband, that women of child-bearing age are more distressed than girls after an attack and married women more distressed than single women or women past menopause. Also, few victims are killed by rapists...
Where to start? My first impression is of angry sarcasm. "Rapists don't kill their victims? Gee, how kind." However, I probably agree with some of the theories put forward by the authors of the book. But I do have to take issue with the headline of the article: "Rape not about power, but sex." My MacKinnonian response is to think, "all sex is about power." But of course, I don't agree with her (it's just a dialectical reflex) as she's expressed her own views quite well:
"Compare victims' reports of rape with women's reports of sex. They look a lot alike. ...In this light, the major distinction between intercourse (normal) and rape (abnormal) is that the normal happens so often that one cannot get anyone to see anything wrong with it."
Personally, I can only conceive of rape as an act of aggression as I can't see how one could enjoy something if the other person didn't enjoy it too. But that's besides the point. I don't know what they mean when they say, "sex not power." Genes aren't concerned with enjoyment, fantasy, sex, power, or aggression. These are human constructs. The theory of natural selection merely argues that a behavior which leads to more offspring is likely to be perpetuated as a behavior in those offspring. I don't find it surprising to see rape cast within that theory.
The knee jerk reaction is to read this as "natural" and fear that because it is "natural" it might mean it is "ok." Of course not, that's silly and naive. I often say nothing is natural. Or actually, everything is. Nor do I I think this relieves us of our responsibility to look at culture and social norms and how they affect men's behavior. I believe evolution has planted the impulses and mechanisms of behavior, but our minds, norms, and character refract those impulses into how we behave, be it moral or immoral. Interestingly, one can also make an anthropological argument that societies that severely punish rapists are merely a "good and natural" reflection of evolutionary impulses.
Regardless, I fear this whole debate will be academic, it won't do a damn thing to address the problem nor offer genuine insight into what is going on. One of the most insightful though frightening things I read last year was a short guide for hetero men in prison entitled "Hooking Up: Protective Pairing for Punks." [archive]
Geoff wrote that my trip down memory lane yesterday based on his awards page inspired him to fix the broken images, and maybe even update some of the links. In a way that is actually unfortunate. It was the broken links that I found so instructive! How we publish documents and their relationship to dates is a religious issues at the W3C. One of the principles is once you publish a certain sort of document with a date, you can ever change it again! Though things can get a bit crazy in trying to figure out how to fix a typo and such, basically you have to issue a new version!
While cleaning out old bookmarks I ran across a superb site award I received in October '96 – the month I joined W3C. The awards were only given away for that single year, and I doubt it was a prominent award, but I think back with nostalgia and chuckle at how pleased I was at the time. Those that were around in '96 might appreciate how thrilling such a thing could be given that, relatively speaking, it was a new idea! Today, there are countless awards.
Before '96 the Web Faq had to answer the question of how does the Web compare to Gopher and WAIS? Most people wouldn't even know what those things are now! This is when I only knew of the place I now work at as the W3 consortium, and the guy down the hall as timbl.
And while Superb's images and icons have long since broken, the content and links are still there. Browsing through the awards feels like a high school reunion, not that I would expect anyone to remember me – from the awards or from my high school! Some of the sites haven't changed at all. Felchner's site still boasts of his new award! Others have died or moved on. This is back when the girls behind gURL hosted their site at a (now dead) university location as part of a class. gURL has since graduated and become a successful professional as part of a teen orientated online shopping catalog.
The link to my site is also dead, pointing to a machine I used at MIT as a grad student. Interestingly, the award for my pages refers to a Page Past Torn and Geoff actually quotes text from my help page! I can't help but laugh to think of goatee's dead wood getting any award. But then again, it wasn't goatee.net back then, merely a home page split in two, with me on one side, and me-with-a-goatee on the other. This represented my early attempt to partition the professional from the personal.
To continue the high school reunion metaphor, I've even stayed in touch with two of the sites – they are still on my design page. I haven't followed Siegel closely for a while, but I remember the "clear pixel" trick and rooted along with him for the W3 to do a good job on style sheets. While I look in on highfive every once in a while, I spend more time working on my own style sheets and essays than reading about design tricks. It just seems that the time of html hacks and tips is ... part of the past. Finally, Justin is probably the oldest journal/zine type site in my hotlist (what we called bookmarks back in the old days) though his present day pages look more retro than the one from '96!
And it does make me wish I could go back in time and see it all again as it was, including my first home page at UMBC in the fall of '93 – I think. Pardon the nostalgia, I'm sure it seems trite to many folks. After all, it was only 3 years ago and we're all tired of hearing about "Web time." But sometimes it hits me and I can't help marvel and wonder what will I think five years from now?!
"The top is down on the black corvette and its fly cause its sitting on beams. Golden steering wheel, plushed out, gold leaf, phantom top and three girls waiting. The coning weight is groaning, the chrome designing, passing all the cars on the way." – LL Cool J, Going Back to Cali
I had a one day meeting in Menlo Park that did not provide much time for fun. However, I managed to enjoy myself in little ways. After the meeting I drove into San Francisco. On Haight St. I bought a bag of west coast zines from the cool video store and had a yummy falafel plate from a Mediterranean restaurant. Later, I went to Assimilate 2000 at Cat Club: a new industrial/goth night at one of the San Francisco clubs I like. Next morning, I was tearing down 101 towards San Jose Airport. I could not but help grimace when I thought of returning to frigid Boston. The morning sun was addictive. Fortunately, at the airport I found a small spot beneath flag poles surrounded by a little garden. When I closed my eyes, I could smell the flowers, hear the birds, and smile at the warm sun on my face. I passed the 90 minute wait for my flight in this little haven within miles of parking lot and airport.
I also took guilty pleasure in racing up and down California freeways. I sped between Menlo Park, San Jose, and San Francisco in my muscled renta-car: a convertible Mustang. When picking up a car at the airport the counter agent asked me if I wanted a Mustang. I replied that I didn't care, I rode bicycles. I thought to myself that the lunk and his blond girlfriend in line behind me could probably make better use of it. A few minutes later, in the garage, after I picked up the key I discovered I did indeed have a gold turbo convertible. I pulled up to the the key booth to ask a question of the attendant. The meat-head from the line had just arrived and asked the attendant while looking at me, "can I have one that isn't gold?" He smirks. I sigh. Great, I'm being judged by a prick because of the color of my renta-car? Oh well and he ended up with the queer looking red Mustang with a white top. I wonder if that impressed his girl.
Mine was cooler.
I saw Girl Interrupted a few nights ago. While watching it my attention alternated between Winona's and Angelina's cuteness, the story itself, and trying not to freak out. I feel somewhat silly saying that, I've watched movies a hundred times more difficult than this one, so I sat there rebuking myself for permitting this teenie-drama-queenie sort of movie make me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because I wasn't in the best of moods, or it was one of the characters' viciousness – I don't like mean people, it upsets me. However, I suspect a lot of it had to do with the way the film addressed suicide. Actually, my frustration wasn't with the film itself, but the social norms that the film portrayed.
Five years ago I was quite depressed; I didn't like life. My friend Nils would frequently put up with my pessimism, hear me out, and return a positive thought for every dark one I spun. At the time, I thought what he was saying was naive and trite, but I'd still egg him on, to have the discussion. A few years later he asked me about my experiences from that period because he had another friend (in circumstances much more depressing than my own) who had attempted suicide. He asked me how I coped, and what should he say? I responded that all he could do was what he did for me. Granted, his friend might have a response as to why his life was horrible for any argument Nils might make, but I had realized the interaction and effort Nils made with me was more important than the actual things he said. However, months later Nils said that his friend had attempted again ... and succeeded.
I felt bad for Nils, and the family of his friend, but when I heard the of death I thought, "ah, another one of us has escaped." It's almost a congratulatory thought. Now I say that with great trepidation because I know people that have been very hurt by the suicide of friends and family. I'm not out to compound their pain. Nor is this some moody gothic posing. Presently I like life. I want to live a good life: strong, happy, and filled with wonderful people and experiences. And I'd much rather hear how the person took the upswing, escaped from their addictions, and found the good life. This would be an inspiration to me!
However, I don't fault the person, nor do I regret my own past. It was a very rational desire given how unhappy I was. Sure things are better now, but when someone asks me if I'm glad I didn't kill myself, I say, "No." That's like asking, "How would you feel if you would've never been born?" What makes me glad when I hear about someone is that they no longer have to suffer. What makes me angry is that social norms makes the person's family and friends feel like failures. That the person probably had to undergo multiple repeated and frightening failures, and that their death was physically horrifying and that they probably felt alienated and shamed. I fear being on that edge again and I deeply resent it.
I used to give Masha shit for smoking. Her response, "Well, don't you plan on killing yourself? Same thing." I do, but it's not. I don't want to kill myself, I'd like to live a long and healthy life and not to have to ever seriously think about this again. But if I do think about it, if things happen, I know I don't have the most robust psyche and I will end up in the position I was in years ago. And if that's the case, I'd like to exit as contented as possible, no need to linger. Of course that doesn't mean society should be too quick to dismiss. We should ensure people get help, make a rational choice in their own interests, and know that in time and with work, a difficult period might pass. But I don't understand why this topic is so taboo, why it is permeated with fear and shame. I think we should encourage openness, remove the shame and lack of accessible and safe methods, and appreciate this act of sadness is also an exercise of one's right to make an improvement, or rather to stop the pain.
I'm certainly looking forward to the time provided by the long weekend. Those that were reading Goatee a year ago might remember my sadness after finishing the Martin Luther King biography. This year, I'm going to spend some of this weekend rereading King's writings, particularly the Letter from the Birmingham Jail; I think it's one of the most important documents in American civil history. If you want to dedicate twenty minutes towards understanding the meaning of justice, I strongly recommend it.
"I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action;" who paternalistically feels he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection." Martin Luther King Jr. Letter From Birmingham Jail - April 16, 1963
Lisa is selling her soul, or so she thinks I think. To each her own and I understand the impulse but webrings bug me. Perhaps it's their poor design, dead links, lack of content and overuse – sometimes I click on a page and all I see is Webrings! I can't recall the last time I clicked on a Webring, and while people obviously like attention directed to their site, I think I'd prefer to provide high quality, crap/banner/webring-free content, even if in relative obscurity. However, while having a friendly conversation with Angela (yes, the girl I flamed last week) I realized she hosted a handful of goth-x sites and cliques. I asked her why she had so many, isn't it enough to have one? She responded that at one point she had the time and it brought her sites attention. (I also discovered a femme goth site where she had no less than 50 awards – there wasn't even that much to her site!) So, I've decided that if I ever adopt these strategies I'll extend my plan with her approach. I'm already considering creating a banner site/network of subversive banners with anti-consumerism, punk, and radical themes, like what adbusters does but for the Web. If I ever go the webring route, It'll be by creating my own.
Other random bits:
In a winter warm shower the heat makes me thirsty and chapped. I pull aside the curtain, slightly, and fill my green plastic cup from the tap. Goosebumps on my arm, heated water on my back; steam escapes and swirls past the draft. I withdraw the cup and close the curtain and quench – so cool and pure! it surprises and I laugh. I drink again, look up into the heat and let the cool seep from the corners of my smile, magic contrast flows and runs down my neck and chest, it tickles my back.
Much of my personality is based on what I think others think of me. I once drew a distinction between two types of nice people. Those that are intrinsically nice and friendly, and those that don't want to be thought of poorly. Unfortunately, while I hope I'm basically nice, I fear too much of my social interaction is predicated on ensuring people don't think bad things about me. Fortunately, I've learned that to be fair to people, to be truly good and honest, you have to let them think you are an ass. For instance, a girl once broke up with me and did the whole "it's not you it's me" thing. I didn't know if I should chase or move on. If she had said, "I don't like you, you are annoying" my life would've been much easier.
This impulse of self-censoring even extends to a lot of my libido and fantasy. Without avenues of exploration it's easier to just censor and suppress. This is even reflected in my porn collection. The small collection of magazines is partly based on this funny fear I have: if I died what would the person who finds it when going through my belongings think?! My net collection is a bit safer from this form of censorship because it sits on an encrypted partition (as do all of my files). However, two of my friends have seen the collection and while I can't imagine a feeling more scrutinizing than someone else examinging the visual artifacts of my fantasy, I only felt a limited need to explain or qualify why things were organized as they were, or why I had some images. (I have images I don't necessarily like in subject matter but keep because they remind me of someone). Obviously, I trusted my friends and I don't think they thought any less of me.
Sometimes I feel like I'm a monthly harbinger for my femme friends: they come near me and its PMS time. I could take that as an unfortunate coincidence. Recently, a friend obliquely and sarcastically warned me by interrupting a stretch of silence during a testy conversation with a simple statement: "In some countries a women isn't found guilty of murder if she was suffering from PMS." Or I could take it as a form of flattery based on coincidence. My friends feel comfortable telling me about the cycles of their emotions and femmes naturally add in that extra biorhythm. It need not even be coincidence. If I'm talking to a femme friend and they are feeling low this is likely to be a reason; consequently, I'm likely to hear about and notice it where I do not give it any thought otherwise.
Actually, I can be quite sympathetic – literally. I've heard that women in the same college dorm experience synchronous menstruation. In college I lived with my girlfriend and I got sympathy periods: I might get moody or my skin would break out around her period. Granted those things happen to me occasionally and/or one can prompt the other... But the weirdest thing was that I usually don't wear deodorant, but if I needed to, it was a good indicator that my girl friend would be getting her period in a few days.
I always found the mainstream treatment of this issue in the context of male/female relationships to be odd. As a man, I am not supposed to ascribe mood changes to PMS, it would be un-PC. But as a friend to women, I know it does have an affect. However, I've never had any trouble like the stupid men on TV do. It would be prejudicial and unfair to dismiss someone's feelings because of it. That'd be like saying, "you are upset cause you had a bad day at work" or, "you are crabby because you are having one of your migraines." Well yes, of course, but so what? Beyond the sense of relief I've noticed people sometimes feel when they identify a (previously mysterious) reason for feeling down, the root of the issue still needs to addressed such that everyone feels better in the end, right?
There are three longstanding issues that I've failed to write about: porn, suicide, and why I feel ugly. I have a lot to say about each topic. This is one of the reasons I haven't been able to write: each topic is complex. It is easy to write a paragraph or two about something where those that know you won't be surprised about what you say, but on these topics I know my thoughts won't be to the liking of everyone. Even if I'm comfortable or come to terms with them myself, I don't trust my words to say all that I want them to, to fend for themselves; I feel more comfortable talking about these issues in person. However, the result has been that the fear of addressing these issues adequately has kept me from addressing them at all.
However, one of my ethical principles is to question and challenge myself: to be truthful and open to diversity and criticism:
Openness means that I can be true to my own moral compass: deterring those actions of which I'm genuinely ashamed and removing the power of others to shame me for that which I find acceptable.
And I've been wanting to rant on porn for a while and it's probably the easiest topic of the three. Simply put, like many of the things that occupy my mind I both like it and hate it. Now that is not a massive revelation, but the statement demands some explanation and it is at that point I lock up. I have a shelf full of books on pornography, censorship, evolutionary biology, fetishism, gender and sexual identity – interestingly many mention "feminist" somewhere on their cover. I have thoughts on all of it! I've spent countless hours talking with my friends on these topics. Where do I start?
My most simple strategy would be to associate with one of the dominant norms: "I like 'erotica' but not 'porn'," "Playboy is ok, but everything else is nasty," "Support Larry Flynt and the first amendment," or "Susie Bright says porn isn't dangerous, it's fun and liberating." But I don't fit into any of those norms. There is no difference between erotica and porn. Playboy is boring and the women are fake. I'm a free speech purist but Flynt's humor is really (really) offensive. Perhaps I'm closest to Susie Bright (I did end up liking her book) but I don't see it as this necessarily wonderful and liberating thing. Most porn sucks – pun intended! It's crap and unhealthy.
I do not believe that an author of content is responsible for the actions of its readers, I believe in individual responsibility, but I find it hard to deny that the representations of identity and sexuality that we see in the media don't affect us. I believe America is sick in many ways, and its sexuality is flaccid and diseased. You can't show a woman's breast, but a brutal assault where a woman is beaten while her blouse and skirt are being ripped off is prime time programming. And that is not to say I don't like portrayals of dom/sub aggressive/passive sexuality. But there is a difference and I don't think it's just because I know something is 'good' when I see it.
Like many things, I suspect what I don't like arises because much of our sexuality is controlled by the commercial mainstream and consequently hypocritical, driven by greed and forced 'underground' so as to become a product of the lowest common denominator.
Most porn is about controlling production and access such that the content is both controlled and sold. Few people know that many commercial Internet pornographers support some indecency/censorship laws. Proposals for censorship software or age verification systems (of the reader) mean they don't have to compete with amateur and free porn and they can charge money for access to their content through these controls.
We have few options in our approach to the sexuality of 'attractive' women. The Playboy Bunny who doesn't have sex is the 'safe' version of female identity; the Porn Queen can be identified by her bleached blond hair, tan lines, and fake breasts, and she takes it in every hole cause she's 'nasty'. Those that don't like the mainstream messages are corralled into an equally controlled sub-genre that is then sold at a premium.
For instance, I believe the demand for sexual women that aren't porn queens with artificial bodies drives the consumption of asian, teen, and amateur porn. Actually, I figure a third of the Internet sex sites are 'asian' or 'teen' respectively and they are all nearly qualified by 'amateur.' (The hacked password indices are a useful representation of the popular sex sites and how readers' tastes are apportioned.) Perhaps part of that market is people escaping from the Porn Queen, part an evolutionary impulse in the context of how media represents beauty and youth, and part psychological and troubling to me. I myself like cute women but I don't need or want them to be young. I am opposed to exploitation, including of those who are too young to act in their best interest. I'm disgusted by the text in magazines where each pictorial talks about how the girl can't stand the awkward teenage boys and wants some 50 year old lover. This might be a real thought of some 16 year old somewhere, but here it is controlled and sold like everything else. And really, do other men like these repetitive and mysogonistic stories? What I like is an amateur site where I can tell the woman has control and pride in the production. I was very impressed by a site authored by a woman in her twenties: she talked about the drum and bass DJs she liked and the books she was reading! Awesome. Thank heaven for the Internet and all the amateurs that truly enjoy what they are doing.
So where does this leave me? Frustrated – and not in a good way. I haven't bought any magazines in quite some time both because I now have access to alternative content and I don't like to give them my money because of the mysogonistic hegemony. The magazines I do have are mostly old favorites and stuff girlfriends have given me. That collection is pruned and honed though not all that great. However, my fetish and goth girl collection from the Net rules – though acquiring it was no good for my RSI stricken hands ;).
I know for a fact that the colon between the hours and the minutes on the digital clock on my desk blinks 60 times in a minute. Most people assume that would be the case, but they don't really know like I do. That's one way to think about it! I know things others don't. Of course, the thing I don't know is when that knowledge will ever come in handy.
Sometimes the Web reminds me of an elementary school yard, the popular benefit themselves at the expense of others. It's not that the weird and weak always bring it upon themselves; the fact that the in-group needs to laugh, and chose to laugh at you, makes you laughable. I admit, I do like to read Yank, Reality Check and GothGoose. However, it seems that sometimes they are fishing for someone to pick on merely to bolster their own popularity.
So there I was, sitting by myself in a small dark corner of the web, wondering how the hell I would be able to track down a site worthy of my criticism, when I remember how trustworthy search engines could be. http://yankthechain.com/indifferent.html
My friend lisa got carried away by attacking a recipient of one of these awards and felt bad about it in the end I think. Or take Angela's review of Indifferent for YankTheChain. The best she can say about the following statement "fear can sometimes come out as violence or hate" is, "Yes, we hate, therefore we are. Deal." Well, fuck you and your hate Angela. Indifferent is not even that bad a site from what I can tell: fairly well written, decent design, and thoughtful though not too dramatic. I actually think it is better than most of the reviewers' personal sites! I mean GothGoose looks like shit, I hardly think they have room to criticize design. Plus, Lord Morbus – this week's target – certainly doesn't seem to have an easy life, "My mother left when I was about two years old. She had given my dad a choice ether have lippo suction or she was leaving and so he did, but he did not survive the surgy." I mean, that's an amazing tale! Maybe as Morbus matures as a writer (including the use of a spell checker!), he might have some compelling stories I'd like to hear.
And you don't seem to understand; a shame you seemed an honest man. And all the fears you hold so dear, will turn to whisper in your ear. And you know what they say might hurt you, and you know that it means so much, and you don't even feel a thing. - Boa, Duvet
'000103': that's going to take some getting used to. Oddly, how I count the days of the new year is no less confusing than the days themselves. I have to twist my concentration in order to write the date, as I do sometimes in order to understand people. My 'policy of truth' is as much an expression of my own behavior as a warning to others: I'm a bit dense, I can be happily oblivious, like a stupid puppy. So I ask people to speak to me, to be straight-up and explicit. Otherwise, I act in ignorance, which leads to confusion. Fortunately, when one finally realizes that one is ignorant, confusion can be transmutated into a sort of wisdom.
In the past week I spent time with many wonderful people; I gain wisdom by soaking in the warmth of others' light. It is not taken, but shared – like the ritual where a flame is passed from candle to candle. New Years always struck me as a ritualistic event. My friend Nils adopted and adapted a Brazilian tradition by going to the beach with his parents and throwing more than a years' worth of dried roses into the ocean. I like that.
I spent New Years Eve with my friend Doris in the cute little town of Northhampton. We toasted to the turning of centuries by ourselves beneath white Christmas lights hung from the stone arches of Smith College. Doris took swigs from a champagne bottle and I stomped my feet in the chill and sipped at hot cider from my stainless steel thermos.
I have no New Year's resolutions. I have a couple of fun projects I want to work on, but my whole year is spent on trying to identify how to improve and be positive. This is not a holiday activity, this is my daily sanity. Regardless, those things that would make me most happy presently are not a matter of my will alone. They are dependent on the vaguarities of the heart and the choices of another. They are not a matter of personal resolve but of serendipity.
Among the many interesting – though weird! – conversations I had with Doris was the role of smell and memories. Just as a song can remind one of a time, person, and place, Doris mentioned that the smell of piss can remind her of the punk clubs of her youth. I instinctually understood. While I like to talk things through, understanding requires faculties beyond sound and speech.
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