UbuntuCat

I met someone today who asked me after finding out only my first name (which is Anglo-sounding, by the way), “Are you from China?”

I’m sure the guy meant well, but come on! I never meet a white dude with a perfect American accent and ask, “Are you from Sweden?” or meet a Black woman with a perfect American accent and ask, “Are you from Nigeria?”

The guy who asked me is an immigrant, actually. His own accent and look gives away that he himself is probably from a country in Latin America. I suppose he has his reasons for asking. I don’t know. I find it weird. Is that his way of trying to make himself seem more American by making me seem less American (i.e., more foreign)? Who knows? I rarely have American-born Americans ask me if I’m “from China” or “from [fill-in-the-blank Asian country].” It’s usually someone who is clearly born outside the US who is either trying to make me more “other” and herself less “other” or perhaps make me “other” in order to commiserate (a kind of See? We’re both not Americans. We have a common bond.)

I always try to respond politely, because I’m generally a polite guy. Of course, if I weren’t, I’d scream, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t you see I’m American? Can’t you hear that I speak English perfectly? Why do you think I’m from China?!” Instead, I either answer her straightforwardly that I’m from New England originally (which inevitably leads to the “Where are you really from?” obnoxious follow-up question) or I try to answer her question in a compromise of telling her what she wants to know and also hinting that she’s asking the question badly, “I was born in America, actually, but my parents are from Hong Kong. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Ah, to be of Asian descent in America… even in the Bay Area sometimes… geez.

I’m one of those people who is friendly with a lot of folks and close with only a few. There’s quite a simple explanation for this phenomenon, and I experienced an example of the reason just this past week.

I was in mixed gender company—one of the women assumed that I, as a man, wouldn’t care about what her wedding dress looked like; and one of the men assumed that I, as a man, would care about football. Neither asked if I cared about wedding dresses or football. Both just assumed that I would fall into stereotypes. (By the way, I do care a lot more about what someone’s wedding dress looks like than what’s going on in American football.)

As I’ve said in previous blog entries, I don’t appreciate being put into a box. I won’t fight to stay completely outside the box. And I won’t be kept completely inside the box. I will fight to be at all times in, out, and all around the box. I will fight to be the box if I have to.

Some people, who think they know me, try to put me completely outside the box. They think I am a total weirdo, that I do nothing normal and only weird or non-stereotypical things. These people know me no better than those who have just met me.

The people I am closest to—my wife, my best friends—are those who have bothered to really get to know me and haven’t assumed that I fit into a neat little sociological picture of what “most” men or Asian-Americans or Christians or feminists or [fill-in-the-blanks] are. They also know I am not the anti-stereotype either; I am a mixed bag. After all, aren’t we all? Who is completely “typical” or completely “atypical”?

The getting-to-know-me process usually takes several years, and I am grateful to those who have made the effort and been open-minded enough to appreciate my quirks… and the ways I am also conventional. I hope my efforts to do likewise have been equally successful.

Many children—gay or straight—seem to know early on what their “sexual orientation” is even before they have any sexual contact. They do not yet know what “feels good.” And, in fact, a lot of people do not even try both major genders of sexual partners before settling on which one they “prefer.” Unlike ice cream flavor preference, sexual preference appears to manifest itself before a “test drive.”

But if sexual/physical touch isn’t necessary to a decision about what gender one prefers and/or is attracted to, what is the basis for attraction? I think about some gay couples I’ve seen in which one person in the couple appears like a “guy” and the other appears like a “girl.” And when I say appears like I mean looks exactly like. What makes them gay, then? Did they actually have to physically consummate the relationship in order for that attraction to have meaning? Then I also think about pop culture references (which I’m sure also manifest themselves in real life) to men finding a “woman” attractive, whom they later find is biologically a man (Pharcyde’s “Oh Shit” or The Crying Game), or the classic Shakespearean gender benders that occur in Hollywood comedies (She’s the Man or Tootsie), in which straight characters find themselves attracted to what appear to be people of the same gender only to be relieved later to know that the real person underneath is of a different gender. This last type of narrative is the most heteronormative, as it presupposes an instinctual attraction to another gender that necessary cuts beyond surface appearance.

I’m one of those people who claims to be straight, and I’ve been that way my whole life, even though I was celibate for most of my life. Having no sexual experience, how can one claim to be straight (or gay, for that matter)? If I were attracted to manly-looking women, would I still be straight? On the flip side, would gay men who are attracted to womanly-looking men still be gay?

Sexual preference or orientation is a funny thing, because of the visual separation of public and private manifestations of gender. Gender, on the outside, is malleable or at least flexible. Barring surgery, sex—underneath the trappings of clothing and makeup—is immutable. But sex itself isn’t just about the connection of genitals, is it? Nor is sexual attraction. I think a lot of the pleasure that gays and lesbians in so-called butch-femme couplings is the idea of playing with what attraction is, of bending the idea of what it is to be a man or a woman or to be attracted to a man or to a woman. And in direct opposition to that play on attraction is a heteronormative culture that discourages any blurring of gender lines. Boys in skirts, no. Girls with facial hair, no. Boys doing ballet, no… unless they’re gay.

Interestingly enough, we do not feel the same need to exaggerate gender differences in animals. People will often mistake others’ pets as being male instead of female (or vice versa), because most humans can’t tell (without looking at the pets genitals) the difference between a male and female dog or cat. Nor do we feel the need to have our female pets grow their hair extra long, wear makeup, or walk daintily; or have our male pets grow “beards” or walk with more of a swagger.

I think the desire to exaggerate any existing sexual differences stems from homophobia, the fear that if genders blend too much, that there will be a lot more Crying Game incidents and a lot less She’s the Man incidents. With all the cultural gender forces at work, it’s hard to find where you really are. I often find myself swaying back and forth between being too masculine or too feminine, not knowing where I would “really” be if I didn’t feel the pressure to fit into a box… or completely bust out of it. It would be an interesting experiment to construct a society in which you didn’t teach children about gender roles (”No, no, honey. Girls don’t do that”) but just let them grow up and see what happens.

Like Senator Barack Obama, I’m also perplexed by the question of whether he is “black enough” or not.

First of all, does the white community ask if Hillary Clinton or John Edwards is “white enough”? And if Barack isn’t deemed to be “black enough,” does that mean Black democrats will vote for a white person instead? I’m confused by the whole logic of this line of inquiry. I don’t ever criticize Asian-American politicians as being not “yellow enough” be voted for, or Asian-American actors of not being “yellow enough” to act.

Considering the United States has had only white male presumably heterosexual married (Masonic?) presidents since its inception, any deviation from that is refreshing. We’ve had one Catholic president. Maybe we could have a woman or “black enough” president soon. Who knows?

Warning: This entry deals with talk about mature subject matter (as if you couldn’t tell by the subject title).

Two TV shows I watched this past week got me thinking about the word porn.

One is the British show Coupling (currently in reruns on BBC America), one episode of which features Steve explaining to a dinner party how one of his videotapes, entitled Lesbian Spank Inferno, is “erotica” and not “porn.” It doesn’t take long for the dinner guests to agree that the major separation between erotica and porn is the existence (or non-existence, for the latter) of a plot, so Steve spends quite a long time explaining how Lesbian Spank Inferno actually has a plot. When he finally breaks down and admits it is porn (and not erotica), he admits the video is porn but asks what’s wrong with men looking at “naked bottoms.”

The other show was a mini-series on IFC called Indie Sex, whose last installment has a few film critics and actors musing on what separates “art” from “pornography.” One person says that if you have to ask whether a movie is art or porn, it’s art. Another says it has to do with subtext for the events being present—art having subtext, porn lacking subtext. One final commentator says the difference is lighting and budget, even going on to proclaim that a lot of movies produced by the porn industry are of higher artistic quality (with lower budgets) than their “art” counterparts.

Intellectuals and politicians alike seem to enjoy deciding on what qualifies as deserving the porn label, even though some jurisdictions follow an I know it when I see it legal “definition” of porn. But this theoretical or political examination of the border between art/erotica and porn is, in fact, not very practical, as the I know it when I see it approach indicates. There isn’t, as a matter of fact, much blurring between porn and art/erotica. If anything, the two have diverged paths as the decades since film’s birth have passed. Art/erotica almost always features actors who do not exclusively do sexually explicit work, who tend to have natural breast sizes, and who can actually be quiet during sex. Art/erotica does not follow the sex scene formulae outlined by Linda Williams in her book Hard Core: Power, Pleasure, and the “Frenzy of the Visible.” There’s a pretty clear separation, which I don’t think says much for art/erotica. If, as the commentators in the IFC mini-series seem to indicate, art and independent film seek to be subversive, they should be crossing boundaries and blurring boundaries. They should make people think and question: What makes porn so bad? Why isn’t this porn? Is this porn? Maybe this is.

Probably only one film in recent cinematic history (one brought up in the mini-series but not discussed extensively) does, in fact, blur the lines between art/erotica and pornography—Caligula. It is certainly not intended to titillate. Some of the scenes are actually quite disgusting. Nevertheless, it has a lot of extremely sexually explicit scenes that are not necessarily art-y. And the casting seems to involve well-known Hollywood stars and a few porn veterans (since the funding mainly came from Hustler).

The other side of the art/erotica debate has to do with “men looking at naked bottoms” (as Steve from Coupling so eloquently puts it). Second wave feminism has done much to analyze and deconstruct the inherent sexism of traditional pornography, which focuses on the heterosexual male by demeaning and objectifying women or implying that women cannot be whole or sexually satisfied without the use of a penis. Third wave feminism seeks to create “erotica” appealing to women (both gay and straight). But has anyone sought to create sexually explicit material (print, film, whatever) that could not be construed in any way to be sexist but that also focuses on appealing to heterosexual males? That would be a subversive move on the part of the artist, but I’ve yet to see anyone express interest in such an endeavor.

We’ll see what the world of independent film or the porn industry (whoever gets there first!) can come up with to actually challenge people… and maybe turn them on a little too.

On numerous occasions (usually on the Ubuntu Forums, but sometimes in person as well), I’ve been accused of being “PC” (politically correct), as if that’s a bad thing. As if the mere fact of being PC is something to be ashamed of. Why? What’s so bad about it?

Seriously.

PC has gotten a bad name of the past decade and a half. But simply being PC shouldn’t be anything to be ashamed of. The only behaviors related to PC that one should be ashamed of are

• Policing others’ speech without explaining why the speech is inappropriate
• Using “political correctness” as an excuse for indulging in euphemisms

For the most part, I am PC only for myself. I do not dictate that others use the same terminology I do. I’ll make rare exceptions for extremely outdated / offensive terms such as nigger or chink. I’ll also frown upon people under fifty using the term negro when not speaking Spanish, or using the term oriental to refer to people. I do find it ridiculous to call short people “horizontally challenged,” as the term “short” is not offensive so much as it is descriptive.

But I also believe that language is political. And if you have to be political about language, might as well be “correctly” political… in whatever sense “correct” means to you. Your politics do not have to agree with my politics, but I refuse to believe there exist people who are non-political with their speech. Everyone—whether she is aware of it or not—is political with her speech. Your choice of words reflects your values and views. Be deliberate. Own it. I do. I’m PC. So what?

What do feminism and Free software have in common? Debates. The debates are about short-term personal freedom versus long-term global freedom. Here’s how it goes:

Feminism
If I want to wear high heels, why shouldn’t I have that choice? Isn’t feminism about choice? If I want to be with a man who treats me badly, why shouldn’t I have that choice? Isn’t feminism about choice? Well, yes, you can choose those things, but ask yourself why you’re choosing them. Doesn’t it have to do with the way a patriarchal society is raising you? Shouldn’t we work at dismantling that structure?

Free Software
If I want to use proprietary software, why shouldn’t I have that choice? Isn’t Free software about freedom of choice? If I want to use Windows-only software, why shouldn’t I have that choice? Isn’t Free software about freedom? Well, yes, you can choose proprietary software, but if you don’t stand up to vendor lock-in with proprietary software, you’ll be locked in and won’t have a choice any more.

Okay, they’re not exactly the same, but the mindsets are similar, even if I’ve reduced the arguments to one- or two-sentence sound bytes. I think we need a little bit of each, so as not to alienate anyone. People should be able to have some short-term choice and personal freedom and also be mindful of long-term goals and larger freedom outside of the personal. It doesn’t make sense to force others to be femi-Nazis or Free software Nazis (nothing traditional, nothing “oppressive”; no proprietary software, no DRM whatsoever), but it also doesn’t make sense to encourage a “Yeah, whatever works for now. To hell with the consequences” attitude.

In the ideal world, of course—if we get there—people will have any choice they want, and it will be a real choice, with no danger of being locked into or reinforcing a dangerous sociological trend.

Further Reading
Individual Choice

There were two defining moments for me in terms of thinking about economic class.

One was in elementary school (I think it was in third grade) when my teacher asked us, “What economic class do you think you belong to?” I don’t remember what prompted her to ask this question, but most of my classmates and I responded that we were middle-class. Some of us even ventured to say we were upper-middle-class. She said, “No. You’re upper-class. You live in one of the richest suburbs in the state.” I thought about it, and I realized, even at that young age, that she was right. My parents weren’t the richest people in the town, of course. We didn’t have a vacation home or a tennis court or a swimming pool. We didn’t eat elaborate dinners, own horses, play polo, or go to debutante balls. But we were in one of the richest towns in the state, and we could afford to live there.

The second was in preparation for a “diversity day” at a school I was teaching at. We brought in an outside non-profit organization to train us and to facilitate the day’s activities. One of the representatives from that organization shared a bit about her own personal reflections about class and what class means. She hit an epiphany just as she was getting out of school (I forget whether it was college or grad school), when she realized she had no money (and even a little bit of debt), but she didn’t feel “poor.” She found out pretty quickly that socio-economic class wasn’t just about money. It was about access. Access to resources. Access to connections. Access to knowledge.

I feel that way right about now. My wife just finished getting a second bachelor’s degree. We have a lot of debt. We don’t feel “rich” right now. We don’t have a lot of disposable income. But we are not poor, and we don’t feel poor. It’s kind of a weird place to be in—to be in a “rich” class… and not actually have money.

Even though I don’t agree fully with biological determinism or most generalizations about gender, I recognize why people think that way or make those generalizations.

Still, I get irked when people don’t recognize that generalizations—no matter how true they may be for a large percentage of aggregate groups—do not apply to every member of a demographic.

Most men may like sports, but not all guys do. Most women may like shopping, but not all women do.

If you want to generalize and say “most,” I have no problem with that. But don’t box me in. Don’t say “Hey, you’re a guy…” because I am not a guy. I don’t like sports. I don’t have upper body strength. I’m squeamish about snakes, spiders, and rats. I enjoy the company of women more than I do the company of men. I don’t take up extra space when sitting down or invade other people’s personal spaces.

Still, I get situations where people say things like “Hey, you’re a guy. Can you lift this heavy object for me?” or “Hey, you’re a guy. Can you catch this spider for me?” I swear—this happened to me just yesterday at work, so I responded, “I don’t like spiders either. I’ll do it as a favor if you don’t make it a gender thing.” That’s the best I can do. I’m a human, not “a guy.” I may enjoy many of the benefits society gives men. I have the proper anatomy to be classed male. I even smell when I sweat. Still, don’t box me in. I don’t do anything “because [I'm] a guy.” Some of the things I do are from being raised male. Some of the things I do are from other environmental factors not related to gender. Some, believe it or not, are actually my own choice.

Don’t box me in. I am not a guy.

Today was the AIDS Walk for San Francisco, and at the very beginning of the walk, there were conservative Christians on the sidelines with big signs and big megaphones proclaiming that homosexuals were like thieves, liars, and fornicators, and that they deserved to get AIDS because of their sin.

There was no Jesus love there. I was angry (righteous anger, I assure you) that these people called themselves Christians.

Most walkers chose to ignore them. Some yelled back “Shut up!” As far as I can tell, nobody converted to Christianity or was tempted to do so. No one fell on their knees screaming, “You’re right! I am a sinner. AIDS is God’s punishment for gay people.”

I just don’t get where this is coming from, Biblically speaking. Did Jesus go around with a megaphone condemning prostitutes? Did he tell lepers they must have sinned really badly in order to be afflicted with leprosy? I seem to vaguely remember him loving prostitutes, lepers, and tax collectors… and condemning the self-righteous pharisees. Maybe my version of the Bible is different from the megaphone- and sign-touting Christians’ Bibles.