Monday, June 14, 2010

A Non-Trans Privilege Checklist

Privilege checklists make a lot of people uncomfortable.  They usually start in about how "I have that problem too" or "that's not a real problem" or "you have no right to complain!"  (What is a privilege checklist?  Basically, it's meant to be a list of privileges that you don't get to have unless you're one or more of the following:  white, male, heterosexual, cisgendered, able-bodied, etc.  This is said to be the first privilege checklist.)  I got the list below from Ampersand's blog.

The purpose of a privilege checklist is not to make you feel guilty.  Nor am I posting it because I want everyone to know how oppressed I am, poor me, my problems are worse than everyone else's.  The purpose of a privilege checklist is to make you think about your life experience, and hopefully to recognise that a) other people have problems too and b) if you had to put up with this sh*t, you'd think it was totally unfair.


A Non-Trans Privilege Checklist
 

1) Strangers don’t assume they can ask me what my genitals look like and how I have sex.
2) My validity as a man/woman/human is not based upon how much surgery I’ve had or how well I “pass” as a non-Trans person.
3) When initiating sex with someone, I do not have to worry that they won’t be able to deal with my parts or that having sex with me will cause my partner to question his or her own sexual orientation.
4) I am not excluded from events which are either explicitly or de facto* men-born-men or women-born-women only. (*basically anything involving nudity)
5) My politics are not questioned based on the choices I make with regard to my body.
6) I don’t have to hear “so have you had THE surgery?” or “oh, so you’re REALLY a [incorrect sex or gender]?” each time I come out to someone.
7) I am not expected to constantly defend my medical decisions.
8) Strangers do not ask me what my “real name” [birth name] is and then assume that they have a right to call me by that name.
9) People do not disrespect me by using incorrect pronouns even after they’ve been corrected.
10) I do not have to worry that someone wants to be my friend or have sex with me in order to prove his or her “hipness” or good politics.
11) I do not have to worry about whether I will be able to find a bathroom to use or whether I will be safe changing in a locker room.
12) When engaging in political action, I do not have to worry about the *gendered* repurcussions of being arrested. (i.e. what will happen to me if the cops find out that my genitals do not match my gendered appearance? Will I end up in a cell with people of my own gender?)
13) I do not have to defend my right to be a part of “Queer” and gays and lesbians will not try to exclude me from OUR movement in order to gain political legitimacy for themselves.
14) My experience of gender (or gendered spaces) is not viewed as “baggage” by others of the gender in which I live.
15) I do not have to choose between either invisibility (”passing”) or being consistently “othered” and/or tokenized based on my gender.
16) I am not told that my sexual orientation and gender identity are mutually exclusive.
17) When I go to the gym or a public pool, I can use the showers.
18) If I end up in the emergency room, I do not have to worry that my gender will keep me from receiving appropriate treatment nor will all of my medical issues be seen as a product of my gender. (”Your nose is running and your throat hurts? Must be due to the hormones!”)
19) My health insurance provider (or public health system) does not specifically exclude me from receiving benefits or treatments available to others because of my gender.
20) When I express my internal identities in my daily life, I am not considered “mentally ill” by the medical establishment.
21) I am not required to undergo extensive psychological evaluation in order to receive basic medical care.
22) The medical establishment does not serve as a “gatekeeper” which disallows self-determination of what happens to my body.
23) People do not use me as a scapegoat for their own unresolved gender issues.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Out of the Silent Planet

C.S. Lewis is one of those writers whose talent I admire, while finding their ideas more or less repugnant.  (Other examples include Robert Heinlein and Joss Whedon.)  Lewis' writing style was so very original that I can't understand why he relied so much on Christianity for his themes and plots.  Did he not want to be original?

I up and read a biography of him, by A. N. Wilson, who makes the very interesting assertion that Lewis was completely lacking in "self-awareness" and "introspection."  I do not quite understand how Wilson deduces this, but if true it would explain why I dislike Lewis so much.  "Introspection" means a lot of things.  To lack introspection is not to lack imagination, which Lewis certainly had.  And one can be thoughtful without being introspective . . . although it's interesting to consider the things that Lewis was not very thoughtful about.

For example, although he wrote several books about Christianity, according to Wilson he was no Biblical scholar.  So, when he says in The Problem of Pain that Jesus "was either a raving lunatic of an unusually abominable type or else He was, and is, precisely what He said. There is no middle way.  If the records make the first hypothesis unacceptable, then you must submit to the second," he is referring to "records" that don't actually exist.  There is no proof either way - there cannot be - and the Bible is not a historical document.  (Not to mention that Jesus was often reluctant to proclaim himself the Son of God.)  But Lewis didn't care about any of that.  He constructed an argument and he stuck to it.  It's an odd combination of logic and pure irrationality; add in his hectoring insistence that he is right - "there is no middle way" - and you have something that I find completely distasteful.

And yet.  The novels.  I recently returned to the Silent Planet trilogy, not having read them since my teenage years.  The plots are as follows:
  1. Out of the Silent Planet:  our hero accidentally travels to the planet Mars and meets the various inhabitants.
  2. Perelandra:  our hero travels to the planet Venus and fights the (Christian) Devil. 
  3. That Hideous Strength:  our hero fights evil here on Earth.
You'll notice that the first book is very different from its successors.   It is still about good and evil, but the protagonist is a lot more passive . . . and as far as I can tell, there is nothing explicitly Christian in the first book.  We learn that each planet has its own ruling spirit, or incorporeal entity, and above them all is the great being called Maleldil.  Earth is called the "silent planet" because its ruler rebelled against Maleldil and it was put under a sort of blockade.  (The idea that Earth is under the control of an evil demigod actually reminds me of the Gnostic version of Genesis, which I'm willing to bet Lewis did not do on purpose.)

When I was younger, That Hideous Strength was my favorite of the three.  I still think that it has some great writing, although the plot and, again, some of the ideas are a bit dubious.  Now I appreciate Silent Planet more, for its imagination, lack of pretentiousness and anti-colonialist critique.  I mentioned that the protagonist arrives on Mars accidentally.  The two men who travel there first discover gold and intelligent life.  They plan to take the gold and kill the inhabitants so that "Man" will have a new planet to live on when he renders the Earth uninhabitable.  But they get the impression that the natives want a human sacrifice, so they go back to Earth and kidnap one Elwin Ransom, with the intention of trading him for gold-mining rights. 

On Mars, Ransom escapes and meets up with some of the inhabitants on his own.  He's a philologist, and when he discovers that they have language, his first thought is how exciting it would be to publish an English-Martian dictionary.  I am not making this up.  He also gets seasick when riding in one of their boats . . . none of this is very heroic.  In the later books he gets more and more . . . special.  He's not some bumbling fool anymore, which appeals to me a lot less.

Indeed, in the later books Ransom gets more and more saintly and the bad guys get more and more evil; also more powerful.  In Silent Planet, they have the technology to travel to another planet but they don't really understand anything about the world they've discovered.  They assume the natives are backwards and stupid, and they are easily defeated.  (Hope that's not a spoiler.)  In subsequent books Lewis raises the stakes; maybe it's just a fictional convention, to create antagonists who are pure evil and almost omnipotent, but I dislike it.  And from a theological point of view. . .  Lewis seems to me to spend more time dwelling on the power and malevolence of the Devil than on the power and benevolence of God. 

In fact, the whole point of the last two books is that the Devil makes people do bad things.  Or rather, they choose to work with him, but he has powers of his own and he's constantly tempting and manipulating people.  I don't believe in an external Devil; I think it's irresponsible to promote the idea that "the Devil made me do it;" and I believe that this actually gets back to Lewis' lack of introspection which I mentioned at the top of the page.  He didn't want to examine his own unconscious motives, or admit that he had unconscious motives, or an unconscious mind at all.  All of that stuff is not part of him - it has to be moved elsewhere, and the Devil makes a handy receptacle for those parts of ourselves we don't want to acknowledge.

Ironically, That Hideous Strength depicts two characters going through tremendous amounts of self-examination.  It's as if Lewis was willing to dip his toe in the wading pool, but not to go any deeper.  And his conclusions are, for the most part, so perfectly conventional.  At one point, one of the characters says, "Anything might be true.  Heaven, Hell, the afterlife . . ."  It's odd that even though anything might be true, the only possible truths these people can think of are the Christian ones.

In both That Hideous Strength and in the biography, it says that Lewis was very fond of the Normal, the plain, ordinary, boring comforts of an uneventful life.  (One might speculate as to the ways in which he had been deprived of the Normal, leading him to appreciate it so much.)  As the novel puts it, the Normal is a man's cosy memories of his wife, "fried eggs and soap and sunlight and the rooks cawing . . . he was having his first deeply moral experience.  He was choosing a side:  the Normal."  And it just so happens that the Normal is synonymous with the moral, the good, the Will of God.  According to Lewis, science, psychology, Progress and progressive ideas of any sort are not Normal.  He was deliberately and anachronistically old-fashioned.  (And yet he wrote three science-fiction novels.) 

Science and technology do have their drawbacks; in that much I can agree with him.  Although I suspect that for him, for example, destroying the environment is bad simply because the environment is something that already existed, and we're not supposed to change stuff.  I'm not sure if he was aware of the extent to which damage to the environment damages humans too. He criticizes science for its hubris . . . but he also almost seems to take science at its word, to believe that it has all the know-how it claimed to have.

C.S. Lewis seems to be one of those people who never really grew up and never wanted to. Again, that's not me.  There is something charming about the simplicity of childhood . . . of safe and happy childhoods, anyway . . . but there comes a time to put away childish things.  Especially if you're going to go around claiming to Know the Truth.  You can be simple-minded, or you can be smarter than everyone else.  Can't be both.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Walt Whitman: Even Stranger Than You Thought

So I noticed that the author of the Mark Twain biography I read recently, Justin Kaplan, also wrote a biography of Walt Whitman. And I liked Kaplan's style well enough that I decided to read that book too.  What do Twain and Whitman have in common?  They were both banned in Boston.  That's about it.  It says something about American puritanism that sex (Whitman's stock-in-trade) and laughter (Twain was known in his own time as a "humorist") are considered to be equally reprehensible.

I already knew that, when John Addington Symonds (about whom I blogged a couple months ago) pressured Whitman to declare he was gay, Whitman not only denied it but boasted about his illegitimate children as proof of his heterosexuality.  I was, perhaps, even more astonished to discover from Kaplan's book that these children may never have existed.

Walt Whitman wrote poems about sexuality and the body that were outrageous at the time, and still shocking today.  But he also fiercely protected his privacy, burning most of his letters and papers before he died.  We know a few of the people he was close to, but very little about their actual relationships; nor do we know which relationships were sexual and which were not.  He never married and never lived very long with anyone outside of his family.

Whitman's family was a little unusual.  As Kaplan says, "Of the eight Whitman children who survived infancy one was a mental defective and three were psychic disasters; three were normal . . ." and one was Walt Whitman.  In later years his brother (one of the normal ones) said that none of them had ever known what to make of Walt.  They apparently didn't read his poems.  Nonetheless, the people Whitman was closest to were his mother and his favorite brother, Jeff.

As a young man, for reasons that are not clear to me, Whitman began to think of himself as a surrogate father to his younger siblings.  (Their father was alive and living with the family.)  In 1844, when he was twenty-five, he published an essay called "My Boys and Girls," describing six of his siblings.  (He left out his older brother, whom he seems to have disliked, and his retarded brother, but included a mention of one who died in infancy.)  The first sentence of this essay is "Though a bachelor, I have several boys and girls that I consider my own."  Kaplan notes that he echoed this sentence when he wrote to Symonds in 1890, "Tho' always unmarried I have had six children," but he doesn't explicitly make the connection between the six siblings and the six children.  As I said, we have no other information about these alleged children:  he never named them or their mothers, and no one has ever come forward claiming to be Whitman's child.

Women who had read Leaves of Grass wrote love letters to Whitman, in some cases offering to have his children.   He does not appear to have taken any of them up on their offers.  I haven't read all of Leaves of Grass myself (it's a bit overwhelming) but it seems clear to me that his affections for women were not sexual, and that he lingers on descriptions of men's bodies and "the love of comrades."

At the age of twelve, in 1831, Whitman began working for a Long Island newspaper, the Patriot.  He spent much of his life involved in journalism and politics.  At that time the two political parties in America were the Democrats and the Whigs, and the issue of slavery was dividing the country.  Whitman's attitude towards slavery seems paradoxical today.  He believed in "Free Soil" - which meant that as new states were added to the Union, they should not have slavery - but he was not an abolitionist.  Why was it okay for the Southern states to have slaves?  I don't know and this book doesn't explain it.

On more than one occasion Whitman said, "Slavery is bad but lots of things are bad.  Why should I get more upset about slavery than anything else?" and he vehemently opposed letting black men vote.  He believed that whites were superior.  (Incidentally, Kaplan doesn't mention Whitman's views on female suffrage, but it wouldn't surprise me if he supported white women's right to vote.  He was definitely a feminist ally.)  Kaplan tells us that Whitman's great-grandparents owned slaves, and that slavery was abolished in New York state when Whitman was eight, but he doesn't tell us when or how the Whitmans divested themselves of their slaves.*  He does mention, however, that some of these slaves were Native American as well as African-American, and that Whitman referred to both races as "degraded, shiftless, and intemperate."

When his brother was wounded in the Civil War and sent to a hospital in Washington DC, Whitman came down to look after him and ended up staying to take care of many more wounded soldiers. After the war ended, he got a government job and formed a close friendship with a former Confederate soldier named Peter Doyle who was twenty-eight years younger than himself.  It seems that Whitman was afraid of his own feelings for this young man, his own "adhesiveness," a term used in the nineteenth century, probably corresponding to what we today would call "desire for intimacy."  I can't believe that the man who wrote, published, and assiduously promoted the blatantly sexual poems in Leaves of Grass would have been afraid to express sexual feelings.  I believe it was love which tormented him.

He did not censor Leaves of Grass as much as he censored himself in this passage from his notebook:
To give up absolutely & for good, from the present hour, this feverish, fluctuating, useless undignified pursuit of 16.4—too long, (much too long) persevered in,—so humiliating——it must come at last & had better come now—(It cannot possibly be a success.)

Let there from this hour be no faltering, no getting [word erased] at all henceforth, (not once, under any circumstances)—avoid seeing her, or meeting her, or any talk or explanations—or any meeting whatever, from this hour forth, for life.
The original manuscript shows that Whitman changed "him" to "her" on this page.  "16.4", the sixteenth and fourth letters of the alphabet, are "P.D."  Despite this feverish resolution, Doyle and Whitman remained friends until the poet's death.  However, in later years Whitman moved from DC back to Camden, New Jersey and there became attached to another young man, Henry Stafford.  They also had a tumultuous relationship.  At one point Whitman offered Stafford a ring.  He refused it but later wrote, "I wish you would put the ring on my finger again, it seems to me there is something that is wanting to compleete our friendship when I am with you.  I have tride to studdy it out but cannot find out what it is.  You know when you put it on ther was but one thing to part it from me and that was death."  (The spelling mistakes are in the original.  Stafford was largely uneducated.)  Whitman gave him the ring again but a few years later Stafford got married.

Walt Whitman died in 1892.  Three years later Oscar Wilde had his little run-in with the law.  It's interesting to compare the two.  Whitman pursued fame but also guarded his privacy.  He said that he only wanted his poetry to be famous, not himself.  Wilde, on the other hand, was all about self-promotion, and he was sadly lacking in caution.  Incidentally, Wilde came to pay homage to Whitman in 1882,while on his American lecture tour, and later boasted to a friend, "I have the kiss of Walt Whitman still on my lips."

Whitman was arguably more famous in England, especially among gentlemen of a certain persuasion, than in America.  William Michael Rossetti (brother of the poets Dante Gabriel and Christina) published an expurgated edition of Leaves of Grass in England, leaving out the obscene poems and also the "tedious" ones.  It seems a little sad that Whitman never went to England.  I believe that he never left the American continent. He wrote poems about California but never saw it in person.  He also wrote many poems about the ocean and sailing ships, but as far as I can tell he never saw the open ocean.
O to sail to sea in a ship!
To leave this steady unendurable land,
To leave the tiresome sameness of the streets, the sidewalks and the houses,
To leave you O you solid motionless land, and entering a ship,
To sail and sail and sail!

Relevant Links:

Leaves of Grass on Project Gutenberg
A Biography of Peter Doyle
Walt Whitman: A Life by Justin Kaplan

* Update: some info on emancipation in 19th century New York, from What Hath God Wrought by Daniel Walker Howe.
The state of New York had adopted a program of gradual emancipation decreeing that slaves born after the Fourth of July 1799 should become free at age twenty-eight (for males) or twenty-five (for females). This is would allow the owner who bore the cost of rearing the children reimbursement with several of their prime working years. . . . But in 1817, the New York legislature sped up the emancipation process and decreed that on July 4, 1827, all remaining slaves, whenever born, should become free. Masters would receive no financial compensation from the state but did have one more decade to exploit their chattels unpaid labor.