Monday, February 16, 2015

Legends of Love

When I see a woman I'm attracted to, my body tingles with all kinds of throbbing sensations, and I get that hot zealous feeling in my pants. I think about all the things I want to do to her body. Then I want to talk to her and get to know her. I want to look into her eyes and hear her whole life story.




"Me too." my lover says as he holds my gaze.  We smirk.

My lover then asks me: "What do you feel when you see a really good-looking guy?"


"Like a sexy random stranger?" I pause and recall. "That often doesn't happen. Attraction usually comes by knowing them.  Like you".  I pull him in tightly and I feel immense gratitude and joy that I have him in my life. And that I get to fuck him.  Yes, all that fucking that we do.


As we squeeze our bodies together I recall that time in recent present when I saw a particular beautiful man and my heart swooned. And it was rare.  A man now long-gone from my life.


"Honestly, my first feeling, initially, before anything else was: I wanted to marry him."


He laughs.  "That's what my daughter would say. So you're like a 14 year-old."


"I think we're all like 14 year olds".


"You should write a fairytale about the 14 year-old boys who just want to get their dicks wet." He suggests.


"Oh, the original Brother Grimm versions of the fairytales were all about young men getting their dicks wet." I say, remembering the random-old-shit stored in my brain. "Sleeping Beauty, for example, it's not the prince's kiss that wakes her up from that spell.  When the princess pricks her finger and falls under a sleeping spell, the prince comes by and has sex with her while she is unconscious.  He buggers off on his horse.  Nine months later, twins are born from her womb and instinctively crawl their own way up her body to her breasts and start nursing. This is what wakes the princess from her spell." I inform him. "True Love's First Kiss" - this is actually what that expression means."


He gives me that "Hey, Whadda-ya know" look that sometimes I confuse with the "I call Bullshit" look.


He turns his back to me as I sit high on my kitchen countertop and leans his head back into my hands. I twist and turn his hair. We say nothing.


He finally speaks: "The notion of seeing someone and thinking "Hey, I want to marry you", that must come from all those fairytales that we stuff down girl's throats."


I proceed to tell him my favourite fairytale, a story Disney has not touched or fucked with:


When Queen Guinevere ruled the Kingdom, she punished a knight by the name of Sir Gawain for raping a young village peasant.  She sent him to roam the depths of the vast kingdom for one year and a half searching for the answer to this question: What is it that all women desire most in the world?


Sir Gawain talks to all the women he meets;
peasants, servants, princesses, milkmaids, and he listens intently to each and every one of them as he asks them that single question; but they all say something different. He becomes increasingly disheartened that he hasn't discovered a defining answer. He stumbles on a horrible-looking woman in the swamps; she is truly grotesque; with giant warts, skin hanging off her cheeks, scabs over her eyes, puss bubbles on her mouth and the smell of feces seeping from her pores. He gags at the sight of her, but asks her the question, unable to look her in the face.

"My name is Lady Ragnell and I will tell you, good sir, on one condition." Lady Ragnell says. "Vow to marry me and take me to your kingdom and make me your wife. Once we are married I will tell you the answer you have been seeking."


Sir Gawain agrees as he is desperate to be welcomed back in his kingdom and to be forgiven by his brotherhood of knights and by the Queen.


He mounts the disgusting woman on his horse and rides back to the palace. As he approaches, the men and women in the courtyard point and gasp. They wildly mock him, some vomit on the ground at the very sight of her.


Queen Guinevere greets them with open arms and immediately arranges a wedding ceremony. Later that evening after the wedding, they go to the bedroom to consummate the marriage. Lady Ragnell goes behind a curtain to remove her clothing.  When she returns to sight, she is not a gruesome troll but a beautiful woman, with skin as supple as cream and a face like a doll.


"Sir Gawain, the truth is I have been put under a spell which makes me a horrible creature by day, and a beautiful woman by night." She tells him. "Only you can break it by choosing your preference. If you make me horrible by day, all your friends will see me as such and will mock you, but at night, when we lay together, you will have a beautiful body for whom you can happily make love to. Or you could make me beautiful by day, granting all the respect and admiration of your peers. But by night, you will cover me in a sheet and sleep with your back turned."


Sir Gawain looks her in her eyes and answers her this: "My good woman, the truth is, I believe that you know what is best for you and it is you who should choose. It is your life, your body, your will. I trust you know what it is that makes you happy."


"My darling husband, you have broken the spell. You have made me beautiful again both by night and by day, eternally. For you have discovered what it is that women most desire truly -- Above all, women desire sovereignty, to rule their lives as they see fit."


And the spell was broken.  


Lady Ragnell and Sir Gawain lived lovingly together for several years until she disappeared one day and never returned. Yet they both lived happily ever after.



***

"Interesting tale. I like that one." My lover says simply and I hope he and I continue our way described by the Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk, Thích Nhãt Hanh:

You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.


We practice this, he and I.  That's why I choose him.


I continue stroking his hair and staring at the back of his head, I couldn't help wonder if my lover would ever love me so much as to want to marry me.

But that kinda stuff just ain't up to me.






Monday, February 9, 2015

Ask Her

My lover and I laid post-coital as you do, when his text messages began to go off. There was a recent Instagram photo in question and the mother of the daughter they shared was concerned and wanted his opinion on whether the photograph the daughter had posted was too provocative.

He and his ex were co-parenting, as you do, getting along, constantly in touch about the logistics of raising a girl (I will call Taylor), and monitoring her social media activity. 

Making judgement calls on Taylor's choices was another responsibility they shared together. I can attest that this sometimes goes under the umbrella of co-parenting.


Before replying, he shows me the photo-in-question; she is a beautiful, tall, 13 year-old and she's taken a selfie through the mirror in what appears to be a girl's washroom.

"What do you think?  You can see a little bit of her cleavage and her t-shirt's a bit tight. Do you think it's too sexy?"


I admit I am baffled by the whole sequence of this event.  I look at him and I sense he wants me to take the easy way: 

Agree with him. Make a wise-crack. Judge the outfit on a slut-factor-scale.

But I'm not that kind of girl, and I suspect he knows that. 

As a person living in this world I am not so interested in the rights or wrongs of policy and protocol because those are impermenenant and dependant on perspective.  I'm interested in how those policies and protocols make us feel, as individuals. Right now.

Policing girls' bodies and the attire they choose to wear has been normalized and enforced in schools, at home, at work, in religion, from the beginning of time and it raises very confused emotions. Overly-exposed young bodies may provoke concern from a well-intentioned society. The same society that objectifies women and girls from a very young age, and teaches girls to self-objectify.

Consider the motivation behind the "selfie"; conscious or unconscious, this is a move we make on social media to be seen as a beautiful object by the eyes of others. The photo is in the individual's control. I choose the angle, I choose the lighting, I choose the duck-face. I know how to make myself look the hottest -- I mean, I've been practicing in the mirror since ....well, since as long as I can remember.  

The paradox is this: when parents or institutions put dress restrictions in place to "avoid being sexualized" they are contributing to the problem they aim to solve. When you tell a girl what to wear or to cover up, you control her body. You take away her autonomy, you tell her that her body is not her own, which oh-god-so-ironically is what it feels like to be sexually assaulted.

Not only this, but it creates shame about her body, that looking 'sexy' is her fault. Gentleman, these breasts and hips are just part of being me. Like my cracked elbows and my stinky feet. Shame feels similar to embarrassment but it's deeper, more long-lasting, and it's the feeling that there is something WRONG with you. 

This is how policy makes her feel

Shame is the worst. Ugh. The worst.  If I could describe how shame feels to me when I close my eyes, it looks like a green sludgy muddy puddle, feels like being pulled through a jagged tight tunnel and it smells like farts.

Telling our girls to not dress a certain way, shaming them about their bodies makes me feel disheartened and frustrated

I'm not interested in going into a hefty rant with my lover while we lay there still-naked and twisted in sheets. These things take time and he's not open to hearing it, I can tell.


When I finally open my mouth to speak, I gently ask him how it makes him feel to see a picture of her like this one circulating Internet-land; and he says worried, threatened and protective. This is understandable. I hold his hand tighter.

I ask him how it makes Taylor feel when he asks her to take down a photo or change an outfit. He reports he doesn't know.    

  
This makes me feel disheartened and frustrated. I maintain my grip.  

You could ask her.  

How does it feel when your mom and I tell you to take down a photo or change your outfit?

How does it feel when you choose to wear whatever you want and no one says a word?  
How does it feel when you make a choice and I tell you to change it?
How do you feel when you get attention from boys because of the way you look?  
How does it feel when you say something clever and people listen?  
How does it feel when you make a boy laugh with your wit?   

Ask her casually in a comfortable moment together.

Don't answer. Don't talk. Don't judge her. Don't punish her. Don't try to talk her out of the feelings. Don't try to argue with her. Don't tell her she's wrong. Just listen. What she says may surprise you and it may change the way you view this.  It may change the way you discipline her about her choices.


Whatever you decide to do as a parent after that, go ahead and do it, the choice is yours.  Ground her, make rules, enforce policy.  I'm not going to tell you how to parent your daughter, Fuck knows we are all doing the best we can and I am the first to admit I have many times not taken my child's feelings or opinions into consideration.  

"You're over-thinking this. It's just about rules in the home. She's not allowed to do certain things, like expose too much skin, just like I'm sure you don't let your boys hunch over at the table with their food."

A woman's right to have control over her body and table manners are two very different things. I reach deep down and pull out an oldie-but-a-goodie: "I have to teach my boys table manners, yes, and I have to teach them to not rape."


This is how policy makes her feel

We don't need to teach girls to dress more responsibly, we need to teach boys how to not assult and objectify women.

We need to teach boys that the rights and opinions of girls matter, table manners, not so much.

Sure, it's easier when parents decide. It's easier to say "It's my way or the highway" to our daughters, but I promise you this: A disempowered girl at 13 is likely to be a disempowered woman at 33 and they'll be a lot of work to break a pattern of living in a world where it is His-Way-or-the-Highway.

I understand this preceived need to protect our young but if we're following protocol and policy, the current parental bond instrument indicates that the best kind of parents are the "High Care & Low Protection" type, not the "High Care & High Protection" type that seems to be running rampant in our community of white middle-class. 




This is how policy makes her feel


There was very little I could do to comfort him about how NOT easy this all is.

I sense he is the one who is disheartened and frustrated now. Yes, this would be a whole lot easier if I had just agreed with him that his daughter is too young to look this way.

But before I could ask him, he stands up, pulls on his pants, leans down and kisses my forehead and then makes his easy exodus.





Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Worship Like a Mother

On a snowy Monday night in the dead of winter, I trudged down to the Danforth in my snowsuit to worship at the church of Ani Difranco.

I would pretty much do anything to see my hero live and no snowdrift palisading my car could tear us apart.  I've seen her perform live approximately 10 times in a variety of continents.

February 2nd Ani Difranco plays the Danforth Music Hall

It's hard for me to summarize the greatness that is Ani Difranco in one 'lil blog posting.  She is an American singer, guitarist, multi-instrumentalist, poet and songwriter of both a folk and alternative rock genre. She has released more than 20 albums and is widely considered a Feminist icon. She's the most talented artist I have ever been exposed to.  You have Bob Dylan's music to evoke and impress the shit out of you, I have Ani's.

For all the lyrics that run through my head at all times, two-thirds of them are Ani's. As dangerous as this seems, and fuck knows I'm a bit of a rebel, in my darkest moments and most frightening times, I have said to myself: "What would Ani do?" 

I'll be the first to admit the flaws in Hero-Worship, and Ani, in return would say this:


 "Why do you think I write these feminist songs, to try and teach myself to respect myself. You know, it's not because I'm a hero"


Growing up I've had so many women sing to me about the joys and pitfalls of love: 

Whitney, Madonna, Mariah, Stevie, Alanis, Carly, Kate, Billie, Janet, Cyndi, Sade, Jewel, Natalie, Jann, Mary J, Sinead, Fiona, Dolores, Courtney, Belinda, Reba, T-Boz, Cheryl, Sarah, Lauryn, Tracy, Bonnie, Shania, Joni, Gwen, Dolly, Janis, Tina, Annie and Ani too, very much.

But Ani was the big sister who was having a dialogue with me about something other than boys.

At her winter concert the other night, Ani did not disappoint.  It was a mixed crowd and we mostly stayed in our chairs in our grown-up-hey-this-isn't-the-90's-anymore appreciative kind of way. 

The Set List along with my own personal interpretations of each of these songs:

1. Not a Pretty Girl: I wrote the lyrics in purple paint on the bedroom wall of the apartment I shared with my best friend Katie when we were 19.  I consider this to be a classic Feminist-anthem for young girls. Rising up when you feel small against the patriarchy, the government and conventional beauty standards.
Best Lyric: "And what if there are no damsels in distress. What if I knew that and I called your bluff? Don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down whether or not you ever show up?"

2. If He Tries Anything: A song about having your girl's back as you navigate yourselves freely and fiercely in the world of men. Protecting yourselves from both the sources of desire but also of danger. 
Best Lyric: "Go and get him girl before he gets you.  I'll be watching you from the wings, I will come to your rescue if he tries anything."

3. Careless Words: This seems to be a pretty straight-forward song about the lies people tell us; in the world of super powers and in the world of love.
Best Lyric: "I learned as a child, big talker, just shut the whole thing down that polluted well, big talker, that whole polluted town."

4. Allergic to Water: Off her new album; an open letter to the culprits of Fracking and environmental pollution.
Best Lyric: "And a good day is one when that ache in my brain, can remain at a doable three. And I don't really want your sympathy, I'm just telling you so you'll understand, This is me, sincerely, doin' the best that I can."

5. Shy: One of my all-time favourites. She's just passing through during a tour in a hot, fat city and wants to hook up for just one night.
Best Lyric: "and you'll stop me, won't you if you've heard this one before, the one where I surprise you by showing up at your front door, saying 'let's not ask what's next, or how, or why. I am leaving in the morning so let's not be shy"

6. Dithering: A new song about staying in-the-know with politics & news; the constant contradictions and mind-control. Evaluating our worthiness for knowing/not knowing.  Feeling overwhelmed by the clutter of media.
Best Lyric: "Mama look at this headline, they say we’re getting dumber. They keep doing them tests on stuff and coming out with new bummers. Remind me to quit my job, say farewell to it all. Remind me to plant those sunflowers along the south wall"

7. Happy All the Time: The religion of Ani. She owes nothing to the men who "discovered'" the religions that promise enlightenment and that these religions weren't built on the foundation of women, nor are they inclusive of women even in modern times.
Best Lyric: "And I have great admiration for those that raise up mankind. But I'm afraid that great gift is not meant to be mine. Cuz me I'm just happy all the time."

8. Genie: What a great song. Simply put, the luck in finding love. How one "does their time" before love comes to find them.
Best Lyric: "You came out of the blue like twilight's first star, and we picked up on each other from somewhere deep and far. And we woke up married after one drunk fuck, and I couldn't believe you'd found me and I couldn't believe my luck."

9. Alrighty: The sun is the creator, you foolish religion of men. Religion is one big hot mess.  And that maybe God is female. Or nothing at all.
Best Lyric: The song is too fresh, I can't find it on the web.

10. Swan Dive: This is a pretty powerful Ani classic; Grabbing life by the balls even if no one believes in you.  Being brave by being vulnerable. Treading water in a man's world. The sharks here represent the music industry execs.
Best Lyric: "I'm going to do my best swan dive, into shark-infested waters, I'm gonna pull out my tampon and start splashing around.  'Cuz I don't care if they eat me alive, I've got better thing to do than survive."

11. Stop: This too is so new I cannot find the lyrics but I made a few notes during the show. Gestures of kindness at home is the basis for world peace.  Schools need to teach non-violent communication and governments need to lead by example.
Best Lyric: "Stop in the middle of a battle and say you're sorry."

12. Fire Door: She wrote this song when she was 18 and is off her debut album.  This is one of her G.O.A.T's. She accidentally walks in on her lover kissing another. Then she storms down the street in absolute heartbreak. 'Nuff said.
Best Lyric: "Oh, how I miss substituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kiss and oh, how I miss walking up to the edge and jumping in."

13. Harder Than it Needs to Be: Ode to the domestic un-bliss. Married life ain't easy, y'all. 
Best Lyric: "I know I married your mama and I married your papa. When I married you and right now it's clear who I'm talking to"

14. Spider: Ani parodies a Shirly Bassey-esque James Bond theme and it is so goddamn clever.  In Ani's James Bond movie all the babes are queer and Mr. Bond can't tap any of it.
Best Lyric:  All of it!

15. Untouchable Face: She loves him but he loves some other girl.  He is untouchable and Ani is angry!
Best Lyric: "Tell you the truth I prefer the worst of you, too bad you had to have a better half. She's not really my type but I think you two are forever and I hate to say it but you're perfect together. So Fuck You, and you're untouchable face."

16. Shameless: Ani is having an affair with a man's wife.  They are sneaking around. It is the best sex of her life.  She asks her to put all the blame on her if they ever get caught.
Best Lyric: "We're in a room without a door and I am sure without a doubt they're gonna wanna know how we got in here and they're gonna wanna know how we plan to get out.  We better have a good explanation for all the fun that we had 'cuz they are coming for us, baby, they are going to be mad."

[encore]

Both Hands:  The first song off her first album. It's a story about two young lovers who fuck and fight. She begs her lover to please hold on.  
Best Lyric:  "In each other's shadows we grew less and less tall and eventually our theories couldn't explain it all. And I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall and when we leave the landlord will come and paint over it all."

32 Flavours: Well this is just the best live pow-wow song ever.  It's magical.  This song speaks for itself.  Love the metaphors.
Best Lyric: "still there's many who've turned out their porch lights just so I would think they were not home and hid in the dark of their windows 'til I'd passed and left them alone."


Yeah, you did




Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Growing Up Righteous

Me & My Dad, David (1998)

When I was a 17 year old artsy rebel girl in the dusty prairies of Winnipeg, my theatre friends introduced me to the music of Ani Difranco.

She was 28 years old and it was her Little Plastic Castle album that hooked me. I moved on to Dilate followed by Not A Pretty Girl and then her entire catalogue (which was vast!) and finally back to her debut album Ani Difranco -- which, holy shit, she wrote and produced all the tracks for when she was just 18 years old.

Gasp! How could this be? At 18 I was literally a dumb fucking kid with barely two brain cells to rub together.

OK, maybe I'm selling myself short.

At 18 I was pretty boss with my accomplishments in the performing arts and my level of self-confidence. I had written my own plays, starred in hefty live theatre productions, coached a co-ed cheerleading squad, had a few part-time jobs and a few shady businesses and had a few salacious relationships under my belt.

By the age of 18, Ani had grown up in Buffalo, moved to New York City, mastered the art of songwriting and guitar, was out-and-proud queer, and had started her own record company: 






Such a clever name. Such a badass logo. She was so wise, so articulate, so cool, so politically savvy, so educated on Feminism, so experienced in love, sex and heartache. She also had this effortless musical talent as a vehicle in which to express her cleverly-written poetry.

It just didn't seem fair. I was envious and inadequate. But I was also enlightened, bewitched, and definitely on the road to infatuation. I also wondered if someday I might catch up to this woman -- figuratively and literally.


My current Ani car collection (2015)


I look back now on one of her earlier songs (from her debut album) which she must have written when she was a teenager. I was the age listening to it for the first time as she was when she wrote it. I absolutely, whole-heartedly loved it. But I have to admit, I didn't understand it. The concept was too big for me. I didn't understand the metaphors and I didn't understand the sadness and I didn't understand the point of view. But I knew that The Story she was singing about was hers, and was probably mine too if I was paying attention in the world.

And then I started paying attention to the world and I started paying attention to the song. I learned about Feminism. I too related to the rage of living under the Patriarchy. I too, despite this, had a positive male role model in my life who was raising me.

It's probably one of my favourites and I think it is the song to play any young girl of today:

THE STORY
I would have returned your greeting
if it weren't for the way you were looking at me
this street is not a market
and I am not a commodity
don't you find it sad that we can't even say hello
'cause you're a man
and I'm a woman
and the sun is getting low
there are some places that I can't go
as a woman I can't go there
and as a person I don't care
I don't go for the hey baby what's your name
and I'd like to go alone thank you
just the same

I am up again against
the skin of my guitar
in the window of my life
looking out through the bars
I am sounding out the silence
avoiding all the words
I'm afraid I've said too much
I'm afraid of who has heard me

my father, he told me the story
and it was true
for his time
but now the story's different
maybe I should tell him mine
all the girls line up here
all the boys on the other side
I see your ranks are advancing
I see mine are left behind

I am up again against
the skin of my guitar
in the window of my life
looking out through the bars
I am sounding out the silence
avoiding all the words
I'm afraid I can never say enough
I'm afraid no one has heard me

and despite all the balls that I've been thrown
and forced to drop
on the social totem pole
I'm preciously close to the top
they put you in your place
and they tell you to behave
but no one can be free
until we're all on even grade

and I would have returned your greeting
if it weren't for the way you were looking at me

Here's the flashback to when Me and Ani were young girls:





Flash-forward a few years and my Ani CD collection is under my arm all over the world as I travel -- China, Thailand, the UK, Canada. I buy each and every album she releases and I see her in concert whenever she comes to town. I convert my friends to Ani-philes, I preach the Ani gospel. Any man who crosses my path knows my die-hard devotion.  It's my schtick.

I am 11 years her junior and I manage to get married and have babies before she does. Now we're in a slightly different league. She's still singing about politics and fucking in dirty motel rooms and I am making roast dinners with a breast pump attached to my sagging tits. I stay devoted, but I've got bigger fish to fry.

And then in 2011, she releases the album Red Letter Year.  She's married now and has had her first child.   I just gave birth to baby number 2.  We are both grown-up women now, probably going through the same joys and slumps of motherhood.  To think, our babies may both be crying at the same moment -- Hey, Ani look at us Righteous Babes getting "locked up in some house" (lyric from her fiercely feminist song Out of Range). Sadly, Ani's father is deceased, mine is still healthy as a horse. Ani has found true love with her man and my marriage has been slowly falling apart for years. 

And I play the album Red Letter Year on my computer (I'm downloading now) and I hear THIS song that she wrote after having her new baby girl.





PRESENT INFANT
Lately I've been glaring into mirrors picking myself apart
You'd think at my age I'd thought of something better to do
Than making insecurity into a full time job
Making insecurity into an art

And I fear my life will be over
And I will have never lived in unfettered
Always glaring into mirrors
Mad, I don't look better

But now here is this tiny baby
And they say she looks just like me
And she is smiling at me with that present infant glee
Yes, and I would defend to the ends of the earth
Her perfect right to be, be, be, be

So I'm beginning to see some problems
With the ongoing work of my mind
And I've got myself a new mantra
It says don't forget to have a good time
Don't let the sellers of stuff power enough to rob you of your grace

Love is all over the place
There's nothing wrong with your face


I cry and I smile at the beauty of the sentiment. And I think about what has evolved and the things that remain the same. I still pay attention to that Story and I pay attention to this one.