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Mar. 27th, 2002 07:38 pmI spent much of my evening last night arguing with a close friend about, at core, world views and their implementation. Without being knee jerk about it (in most cases), she has a huge chip on her shoulder when it comes to White Men. I usually take this in a generalized sense, as though she attacks the avatars as they arise, or even that White Man is a label applied to a syndrome, or a series of issues and problems that need attention.
I think that I'm both right and wrong on my take on her issue here; while the general and systemic is accurate, I also now think that she sees avatars where they don't necessarily manifest (yes, I get the irony, and I'm trying to act on that knowledge). ZB, it is more important to her that I have a penis, and no trace of my non-European heritage is externally visible, than the fact that I struggle, pretty openly, with gender and power on a very real and personal basis all the damned time.
It gets still more ironic; we share a love of Foucault, and, at least I thought, recognize that power is defined in its implementation. And yet... that I appear to fit the mold, in the most superficial of senses, of the White Man, somehow I have more power than she, and it's unjust. Never mind that, in refuting the labels, roles, and expectations (to varying degrees of success) I abnegate that power; I will not pay the price and be shackled into a prison I abhor for the sake of some power that restrains the wielder as well as the oppressed. Never mind that, by societal standards, she is more successful, well paid, wealthy, and respected in her field than I will ever be, or aspire to be. The fact remains, it would appear, that by virtue of being pale (though not pale enough, damn it) and with penis, I am powerful in a "bad way", and that it's just a state I must accept.
To this, I say, "fuck that". I don't have a problem, per se, being misread, but I have to admit that I'm surprised at this response in one who claims to know me well, who places a great deal of value on the similarities she sees between us (there are many). I am also, hurt. It's not easy to admit that last; somehow the admission of being hurt feels like recognizing that all that is good, and newly valued, in the friendship can easily be devalued, or even taken away. I'm not quite sure what to do about this; hitting the point intellectually seems to have little effect, or has yet to have much effect.
I think that I'm both right and wrong on my take on her issue here; while the general and systemic is accurate, I also now think that she sees avatars where they don't necessarily manifest (yes, I get the irony, and I'm trying to act on that knowledge). ZB, it is more important to her that I have a penis, and no trace of my non-European heritage is externally visible, than the fact that I struggle, pretty openly, with gender and power on a very real and personal basis all the damned time.
It gets still more ironic; we share a love of Foucault, and, at least I thought, recognize that power is defined in its implementation. And yet... that I appear to fit the mold, in the most superficial of senses, of the White Man, somehow I have more power than she, and it's unjust. Never mind that, in refuting the labels, roles, and expectations (to varying degrees of success) I abnegate that power; I will not pay the price and be shackled into a prison I abhor for the sake of some power that restrains the wielder as well as the oppressed. Never mind that, by societal standards, she is more successful, well paid, wealthy, and respected in her field than I will ever be, or aspire to be. The fact remains, it would appear, that by virtue of being pale (though not pale enough, damn it) and with penis, I am powerful in a "bad way", and that it's just a state I must accept.
To this, I say, "fuck that". I don't have a problem, per se, being misread, but I have to admit that I'm surprised at this response in one who claims to know me well, who places a great deal of value on the similarities she sees between us (there are many). I am also, hurt. It's not easy to admit that last; somehow the admission of being hurt feels like recognizing that all that is good, and newly valued, in the friendship can easily be devalued, or even taken away. I'm not quite sure what to do about this; hitting the point intellectually seems to have little effect, or has yet to have much effect.
