Feminism is for Everybody, Especially the Bearded Ones

LHDM's post on feminist origins got me thinking. What were mine? What was the story of how I became a feminist? As I thought back, I realized that this year marks the tenth anniversary of my conversion. And, yes, it was a conversion experience. I was never an anti-feminist. Growing up in small-town West Texas, I simply didn't know that much about real feminism. There was the general sense of disapproval from my family, church, and friends, as well as media caricatures, but to be perfectly honest I never really thought about the subject. What I did think and agonize about growing up were deeply personal feelings of manly inadequacy. I was a computer geek and book worm; I was never good at (nor had any desire to become good at) sports; I cried when I got upset; I preferred the easy-going play and gossip with girls on the playground to kicking balls around and fighting with the boys. Then there were the secrect boy crushes. Of course none of these things endeared me to my schoolmates; I often felt ostracized.


Ten years ago I read a little book by bell hooks, Feminism is for Everybody, in a college sociology class. I remember coming to a passage in her introduction and reading it over and over again: "Again and again men tell me they have no idea what it is feminists want. I believe them. I believe in their capacity to change and grow. And I believe that if they knew more about feminism they would no longer fear it, for they would find in feminist movement the hope of their own release from the bondage of patriarchy" (ix). Their own release from the bondage of patriarchy. For the first time it became perfectly clear to me why I, as a man, should be a feminist. The feelings of ostracism and unvalued difference that I had felt as long as I could remember were residues left by the gilded chains that patriarchal societies place on men. As hooks argued, we bearded ones certainly benefit from patriarcal domination, but the cost is simply too high.


After devoting my graduate career to the study of manhood and sexuality, I now know to call what hooks was talking about "hegemonic masculinity." The set of manly ideals that a patriarchal society holds us bearded ones to doesn't only ensure the continuity of male domination of women (although it definitelty does that); it also classifies and subordinates some men to others along lines of difference.


So, in honor of my ten years as a feminist and in protest against the recent wave of right-wing attacks on women's rights across this country, I offer my beard to the cause. It isn't much, but perhaps, as a potent symbol of masculine status, it can point us toward a new kind of manhood--one that recognizes patriarchy for what it is, binding men as well as women within a vicious cycle of domination and injustice. Feminism has many faces. For me, it looks like a dude with a beard.

Work Spaces: Libraries and Archives

As academics (certainly as humanists) we're likely to spent a fair amount of time working in libraries and/or archives. If you're like me, when you walk into your local campus library you don't think much about what you're wearing. On the other hand, going to an unfamiliar library or archive is another question. In these cases, I tend to err on the side of button-ups and slacks in subdued tones in order to scope things out on the first day. Most of the time this strategy works well, but every now and then it backfires, leaving me feeling overdressed and out of place. Case in point--last year I visited the New York Public Library for the first time in order to view some documents from its special collections library. The morning of my first day I put on my favorite black-with-pin-stripes button-up and light gray slacks (yup, conservative) both from Express with a gray pea coat. Once in the library I realized that the prevalent dress codes fluctuated from trashy tourist to hipster chic (complete with mandatory macbook and earphones). So the next day I opted for jeans and a polo. What are your strategies for first-day dress at an unfamiliar library or archive?

Work Spaces: The Productive Home Office

As academics, we are blessed (cursed?) with relatively flexible work patterns, which allow a high degree of personal preference regarding the spaces we work in. When I bring up the subject of working from home among fellow academics, I get a variety of responses, which almost always include a variant or two of this one: working from home is distracting and leads to low productivity. People mention the internet, TV, video games, significant others, children and a whole host of other potential distractions that can ruin a good, solid day of reading, writing, grading, or teaching prep. Admittedly, I have no children and my husband works in a lab, but I have to say, I love working from home. But that love is conditional--there are a number of prerequisites that make productivity possible in my home office.


First, my home office is (mostly) its own space. The office does have to double as a guest bedroom, but most of the time this isn't a problem. It's a dedicated space--when in the room I only work, and, when at home, I work only in the room. We are lucky to live in a relatively cheap Midwestern city where you can afford a two-bedroom apartment on two graduate stipends, and being in a relationship means that sleeping requires only one of these rooms. But even when I was (a) living with roommates or (b) living by myself, I have almost always had, if not an entire room, a space dedicated to work at home. For example, when I lived by myself in a one bedroom apartment, I divided the living room with a couch, creating a work space with desk and bookshelves on one side and a TV room on the other. So, not surprisingly, my first precondition for productive work at home is having clearly defined work spaces.


Second, as one of those old-fashioned humanists (a constant reminder from my scientist husband), reading print on paper is not only a preference, it's a necessity. This provides both motive and reinforcement for home office productivity. When engaged in scholarly writing, I like to be surrounded by the books, articles, and archival documents that I'm using. It's part of my process. While I do, from time to time, schlep the minimum amount of material that I need to the library or a coffee shop, I like having access to my entire collection. But these materials are useless to me (and distracting) if they aren't orderly and easily accessible. So another precondition for home office productivity is a well-organized home library. This current shelving system is Ikea and very affordable--but in the past I've been just fine with a mix-matched collection of shelves ala Craigslist. Bookshelves add practical value to my home office, but, more importantly, they physically and symbolically define the room, feeding the feeling that it's a dedicated workspace.


Third, I've found that I need to dress the part. I won't lie. It's tempting to work in my PJs, and sometimes it happens. But my most productive work from home takes place when I'm dressed for the day. That doesn't necessarily mean that I dress business casual, but I try to put on something I wouldn't mind being seen in at the library or in my department. I'd add just one word to Gottfried Keller's formula--clothes make people productive. (With a moniker like Herr Doktor don't think I won't bust out an obscure reference to nineteenth-century German lit every now and then!) :)



Finally, I've had to come up with strategies to contend with distractions. In the mornings I have to motivate myself to relocate from the living room (where I have breakfast, play on the Internet, and watch TV) to the office. Once I'm physically in the office space I'm pretty good at staying there and working consistently. Sometimes it's a tough transition, but at least it tells me my spatial boundaries at home are working. Food/coffee can also be a distraction, particularly if I'm writing, so I try to stay in the office, except for lunch. For me the biggest (and cutest) distraction, however, is our mini-schnauzer. She keeps me company while I work, but those sad puppy-dog eyes make it tough not to want to play a game of tug-o-war or take a walk to the local dog park. To compensate for the sad puppy-dog eye effect, I try to make time to take her on a morning run or a short walk outside to chase birds and squirrels at lunchtime.

My love for the home office may not be unconditional, but it's grown with time and cultivation. What's your take? Do you find working from home to be wonderfully productive or woefully distracting? What are your preconditions for working from home?

“Stylish” Butch or “Fashionable” Femme?

A few weeks ago I went out with friends and colleagues to a nice wine bar to celebrate La Historiadora de Moda’s new job. One of my friends complimented my outfit, a button-up-sweater-vest-tie combo, and then inquired whether my husband, thechemist-coture, had “dressed me.” This wasn’t the first time I’d gotten this question, and, as it turned out, the answer was yes. As the conversation evolved we tried to pin down just what it was that made my style different than my husband’s, and thus made clear whenever he picked out my outfit. The friend who had originally started the conversation with her compliment suggested that, while I was stylish, my husband was fashionable (a proposition, I should add, about which he is rather skeptical). To be fair she also put herself in the “stylish” rather than “fashionable” category, although, since my knowledge is limited, I’m going to focus on men today. So, I’ve been wondering: is this a useful distinction for men’s fashion? What exactly does it mean to be “stylish” but not “fashionable”?

Given that everyone (myself included) perceived a difference in style between my own outfits and those my husband picks out for me, let’s assume for a moment that such a distinction exists. I think it includes, but goes beyond, a simple comparison of the clothes we tend to choose and reflects broader differences in how folks perceive the two of us. In other words, it’s not just about clothes it’s also about personality. I can think of at least four reasons for why I might be considered “stylish” and he “fashionable.” The first two deal with the clothes we choose. First, we differ on the basic combinations, colors, and patterns that we tend to use. My preferences tend to be subdued, darker and less complex in combination and pattern, whereas he is more daring in his use of color and more willing to embrace unorthodox combos and patterns. Second, he is more willing to add accessories (from men’s fashion’s admittedly limited repertoire) such as vests, ties, and coordinated glasses. But, really our choices of clothing and accessories aren’t that different. I mean, we’re not talking a Johnny Weir - Evan Lysacek catfight here.

This brings me to my less-concrete, personality-dependent explanations for the “stylish” / “fashionable” distinction. Expectations, I think, play a key role here: my husband has expressed considerable interest in fashion, and thus people expect more concern from him about how he looks than they expect from me (although if I keep writing for a style blog that might change). More importantly, gender performance, seems to be at the heart of the distinction. I suspect that the “stylish” / “fashionable” distinction is also another way of expressing the butch/femme dichotomy that most gay and lesbian couples have to deal with. Although my husband and I agree that our relationship really doesn’t follow any set gender roles, it seems clear that, at least for many of our family members, friends, and colleagues, I’m perceived as the no-frills butch and he as the flamboyant femme. Although we’re a gay couple, which invites such comparisons, I think the butch/femme analogy defines a spectrum of men’s fashion regardless of relationship status or sexuality. Indeed, it seems clear that there’s a tipping point where one’s interest in what one wears seems to imply not only one’s gender performance but also one’s sexuality, but that’s a whole other can-o-worms.

So, do I think it’s a useful distinction—yes. Do I think it’s just about the clothing and accessories we choose—no. Check out the photos, try to guess which outfits I put together and which ones my husband choose for me, and tell us what you think about the “stylish” / “fashionable” distinction.

Pierced Academics in Dialogue

Many of us, as academics, have had to consider the ramifications that body piercings might have for our professional and personal lives.  Just what does being pierced mean for academics?  I sat down with my friend, fellow academic, and now co-blogger, Herr Doktor (HD), to begin to tease out some answers in hopes that you’ll join our conversation.

La Historiadora de Moda : When did you get your piercings and why? 

Herr Doktor: I still remember walking into the piercing shop for the first time to get my ear pierced.  It was a transitional moment in my life: I’d just finished undergrad, I was well on my way out of a bad relationship, and I was coming out.  So the earring, which is in my left ear, has a lot of personal meaning to me.  This was the early twenty-aughts and the old adage that right is gay and left is straight seemed to be fading away and wasn’t important to me.  My eyebrow piercing, on the other hand, was a purely aesthetic choice, even thought I got it right after completing my master’s thesis.  I think eyebrow piercings are hot on everyone, but, particularly on men.  So my piercings mark milestones for me but with very different meanings. 

HD:  What about you … when and why?

LHDM: I had my ears pierced when I was six years old.  I remember begging my mom to let me get them done, and finally she took me to Claire’s to do the deed.  I got several other ear piercings during my late teens, but I didn’t maintain their upkeep, and now they are piercing ghosts.  When I was 18, my best friend in high school and I both went and got our tongues pierced.  She paid for my piercing as a graduation gift.  I got my nose pierced about a year later.  Being from a small town, my piercings (particularly tongue and nose) marked me as different, as part of a subculture -- an alt crowd.  Later, in grad school, I spent a fair amount of time in European cities, and there it seemed that many more women (and men) had piercings.  It no longer marked me as different or being so subversive.  Instead it seemed to almost become a marker of belonging.

 LHDM:  Have any of your students, colleagues, or supervisors in grad school said anything to you about your piercings? 

HD: I’ve had students compliment me on my eyebrow piercing—the earring seems to be passé—sharing their enthusiasm about body art.  I do recall a conversation with fellow graduate students in which a number of people expressed concerns that having a piercing might negatively affect one’s prospects on the job market.  Never once, however, has a faculty supervisor suggested that there might be professional problems with my piercings.  Really, the most frequent comment is surprise after finally noticing a shiny bit of metal on my eyebrow because its gauge is on the small side.  Call me a subtle piercer.

HD:  Have any comments about your piercings in an academic setting stood out to you?

LHDM: I occasionally have received compliments on my earrings or nose stud from students or colleagues.  However, the only comment that really stands out is once a student told me I had something hanging out of my nose.  She thought it was a booger but then on closer inspection realized it was my nose screw.  We were both a little chagrined.  I’ve never had a single student or faculty colleague comment on my tongue piercing to date.  I don’t think it’s very noticeable under normal circumstances.

 LHDM: Are there any occasions for which you would remove your piercings?

HD: I may be a subtle piercer, but I’m also stubborn.  I really can’t think of a reason that I would remove them, unless I decided to change my style.

HD:  Would you remove your piercings for an academic job interview?

LHDM: No.  I have not removed them for any of the job interviews that I have had, including the ones that landed me academic positions.  My philosophy is that these piercings have become part of my identity.   You can expect me to wear a suit to an interview, but you can also expect to see a little bit of metal, too, if you're looking really closely.   I am, however, thinking about getting rid of my tongue piercing, because, even though I don’t play with it, I’m starting to notice some chipped enamel on the backs of my bottom front teeth that my dentist and my father-in-law, who is a dentist, might have something to say about.  It really pains me though to have to consider this, though. 

LHDM:  How do you think about your piercing as a public marker of gender and/or sexuality?

HD: Both of my piercings do have to do with my sexuality for different reasons.  Even though I didn’t follow the conventional gay/straight ear dichotomy, my earring is a powerful symbol of coming out for me.  Nevertheless, it seems clear now that earrings for men no longer signify sexuality in the way that they once did in the United States.  The meaning of other piercings for men still seems to be in flux.  When I had my eyebrow pierced, I thought it marked me as gay as a guy.  Lately that seems to be less and less the case, as piercings for men become increasingly mainstream.  On the other hand, when I see guys with eyebrow piercings, I’m still tempted to read them as gay unless I have other evidence to the contrary.  It still signifies that to me, even though I know societal norms may be changing.

 HD: Do you see piercings as such markers?

LHDM:  I think with the increasing popularity of alt and hipster scenes, piercings no longer have such easily defined significances.  To some extent in high school and definitely in college, I ran with a crowd that was into body art and that encompassed a relatively large number of LGBTQ people, including myself.  I felt that to some extent my piercings connected to my identity as a bisexual woman, but I think this had to do more with the timing of my piercings (and first tattoo) than with  public conceptions of women’s sexuality and piercings as a marker thereof.  Of course, I have spent most of the past descade in large urban areas, and these perceptions about piercings may not be the same in more rural areas.  All this of course is a bit of a generalization, and I’m sure people can and will write dissertations on these topics.

HD: No doubt someone is writing such a dissertation, and I would love to read it!  My thesis overall would be that, despite recent fluctuations, piercings for men are more likely to be social markers of their sexuality than those of women.  I’d also be interested in thinking more about the role that piercings play in conceptions of class and race.

So, dear readers, what do you think about piercings in the academy?  If you have a piercing, do you view it as a public marker of your identity or sexuality in any way?  Do you feel as though you’ve ever experienced discrimination because of a piercing?