What is that, anyway? Some kind of printing press? That would be my guess.
Seriously, though, Venn diagrams are a concise and satisfyingly geeky way to convey complex information. Instead of writing a paragraph about how some of the people in my life are geeks, and some of the people in my life are artsy, and explaining that those groups overlap , and further that some subset of the overlapping region will find my webcomic project viscerally satisfying, I can draw three circles in a square and you know exactly what I’m talking about.
And Venn diagrams are versatile! You don’t even have to mouth off to anyone any more if you can just scribble some pithy circles on a bar napkin. Draw three interlocking circles titled “smart people”, “sexy people” and “talented people”, then enclose them in a circle labeled “people who aren’t you” within a larger rectangle labeled “everybody”. See? It’s that easy!
Yes, the Venn diagram could be the key to an new, utopic, entirely non-verbal society. Keep your eye on it!
I wonder who would be elected president of the US if the candidates were:
- a black baptist lesbian
- a straight white male atheist
Assume the candidates have equivalent platforms, and neither is trying to cover up their identity.
On the one hand, atheists are the most selected-against demographic in US politics. On the other, candidate 1 has a whole list of strikes against her.
I think the thing that might work in candidate 2’s favour is that he only has one “hurdle” to overcome; if he can spin his way around that he’s good, but candidate 1 will be accused of favouring each of ethnic minority rights, women’s rights and gay rights over the “real issues” — and will probably be unable to evade all three long enough to focus on whatever she’s actually campaigning on.
I like Jake‘s comment: “There would be no president that year”
Update: upon further inspection, being gay is not far off from being an atheist in terms of being selected against. Maybe it’s cuz nobody could be one a them fags iffen they believed in the Word, so they gotta be a devil-worshippin’ atheist! But wow, look at the breakdown by political ideology!
Last night I was given a fortune cookie. The English side was a little harsh:
“Enjoy your own company. If you don’t, who will?”
But the French side was sexay:
“Il faut savoir se plaire à soi-même. Sinon, qui d’autre peut le faire?”
Now that I’ve done a “what kind of thing are you” poll:
No use trying to fight it, you’re an eight-sided die, a d8. A fine example of simple elegance, the d8 is one of the least appreciated types of dice, and is often neglected. You are known to be quiet and shy, outward traits that conceal viscous sarcasm and mean wit. You are very smart, yet wise enough to hide your intelligence the quicker they found out how smart you are, the sooner they’ll put you to work, which is something you can do without. People call you dark and pessimistic, or moody and cynical. You find little point in arguing.
This survey is completely scientific. Despite the mind-boggling complexity of mankind, the billions of distinctly different personalities found on Earth can easily be divided into seven simple categories that correspond to the five Platonic solids, a pseudo polyhedron, and whatever the hell a d100 is. The results of this quiz should be considered not only meaningful but also infallible, and pertinent to your success as a fully realized individual. If you feel the results of this examination do not match your perceived personality, you should take whatever drastic measures are needed to cram your superego back into proper alignment, as described by the quiz results.
[This is crossposted to Feminist Allies]
There was an article today in the Toronto Star about Hollaback Canada, and about the wider issue of when it is and is not appropriate to ogle people on the street1. The article was titled “When does looking become a leer?”, and touches on something I started writing months ago, and never finished. First, though, if you are a woman in Canada, I would recommend that you bookmark Hollaback Canada, and next time you’re sexually harassed send in a submission to shame your harasser. If you’re in New York City, visit Hollaback NYC, and if you’re elsewhere look for a Hollaback site linked from there. If there is no Hollaback site for your city or region, start your own!
One of the difficulties many men have with feminism seems to be a perceived attack on their sexuality. For instance, men who consider pornography an intrinsic part of male sexuality are likely to get pissed off when someone asserts that porn is wrong as a rule. On an even more extreme angle, some believe that fantasies involving rape, pedophilia or bestiality are perfectly okay, and that anyone who tries to suppress these “perfectly normal” urges is denying them an essential part of their sexuality.
What I want to examine is a milder, but similar, issue. The question I want to ask is: where is the line between sexual objectification and aesthetic appreciation? Somewhere along the continuum from sexual repression to sexual overtness, I feel, there must be an acceptable middle ground. It should be obvious that, at one extreme, externalizing every little sexual impulse we have by yelling “hey baby” at women we pass on the street is wrong. At the other extreme, completely denying our own sexualities2 by refusing to look directly at women is unhealthy. Is there some middle ground where we can acknowledge our own sexualities without contributing to the environment of oppression and abuse of women that we live in? Is this continuum perhaps flawed in some meaningful way?
Here’s where I’m coming from: I am sexually active, in a committed relationship, and I enjoy looking at people I consider beautiful. However, I have a great dislike of making others uncomfortable, and I know that being checked out by a stranger does make many people uncomfortable. When I do look at someone in a sexual way I don’t (I think) do it in an objectifying way: I take care to not look at them as a sexual object, there for my enjoyment, but I do take advantage of the fact that they have certain sexual characteristics that happen to be where I can (visually) enjoy them.
So whenever I do feel like taking an eyeful of someone I am conscious not only of how I look at them and what I am thinking, but also of how I might be making them feel. I generally wait until they will not notice me looking, or else look away quickly. I also make an effort to keep other people in the area from feeling uncomfortable at having an ogler in their midst: I don’t want someone to think “ugh, that creep is staring at that person over there — will he be staring at me if I turn my back?”
So I go to all this trouble to reassure myself that my looking at someone isn’t misinterpreted as lechery and objectification. One might ask: is it really wrong to look at someone one finds attractive, intriguing or whatever? Well, yes and no. Or rather, it can be. The important thing is, as it often is, to take into account the feelings and reactions of everyone involved and to remember that, as in any social interaction, both parties are participating.
I spend a fair amount of time watching people watching people3, and a few things occur to me as ways to differentiate looking and leering, ogling and appreciation. I find it least offensive when the observer:
- engages the other person. Rather than staring at a woman’s chest or rear as she walks by, it can be less threatening — and certainly less gross — when a guy looks her in the eyes and smiles a bit. This acknowledges her part as a conscious participant in the interaction (note that saying or doing something for the sole purpose of getting a reaction is not engaging someone meaningfully). Where this gets a little creepy is if the smile is too intense, or lasts too long (see point 2). The observer has to use his discretion and remain aware that the other person has feelings about the interaction, too.
- doesn’t linger. Without reciprocation, a short glance is about the limit of respectfulness in most of North America. Beyond that we’re in the realm of staring, which is not only rude, but can send an “I might be dangerous” signal. I’ve seen people give a quick little smile, and I’ve seen people grin uncontrolledly. The second is creepy. The first can be kinda hot.
- makes no imposition. In general, any speech falls into the category of imposition. Really, there’s no way to verbalize “I find you attractive” to a stranger that doesn’t come across as creepy or worse. This is doubly true of actions such as standing in someone’s way and forcing them to walk around you, and actually having the nerve to touch them is right off the chart.
- has no expectations. Here’s the punchline, which a lot of people seem to ignore. Nobody is going to sleep with you because you looked them up and down on the street. No woman has ever been suddenly filled with a desire to sleep with a man who leaned out of his car and yelled something incoherent at her. And, perhaps barring the stupidest of the stupid, no man has ever thought she would. When it comes down to it, this sort of behaviour is not an expression of sexual desire, but of dominance. The only times I’ve seen people act respectfully while looking at others like this is when there is no implied expectation that something more might, or ought to, happen.
It is true that when someone gets dressed up to look nice, they are often pleased when they get some attention in exchange. Even if they haven’t put any effort into it (or perhaps especially so!) it can be nice to notice that someone has checked you out. But at some point when the checking out is persistent, lewd or otherwise inappropriate, it crosses the line to harassment.
So here’s where I’d like to hear from people. What, to you, is the line between looking and leering? What should one bear in mind, what should one take into consideration?
2 Note that here I am specifically referring to men who are sexually attracted to women; the dynamics of objectification among gay men are very different.
3 I used to like sitting in public places and watching people go by. At some point I discovered that it could be much more amusing to watch other people as they watch people go by.
Friday, on my way to work. I see a man who is apparently a zombie, or else in the thrall of a mesmerist. Standing still and ramrod-straight on the inner edge of the sidewalk, he holds his arms out over the grass beyond.
I see there is a sprinkler there, which wets his hands at the apex of its swing. Fine, I think, it is after all really fracking hot today. He runs his now-wet hands over his shaved head. He’s wearing the sort of camo-print pants that make you think that, surely, they must be too colourful to be of any use in actual camouflage unless you’re trying to hide in the post-apocalyptic ruins of a Toys-R-Us. As I pass he starts muttering in an eastern european accent — perhaps to me, perhaps not — about finding a bathroom nearby.
When I get to the corner I take a glance back, and he is moving slowly, deliberately, his hands still on his head. I walked on.
… and I just realized that one of my cow-orkers has friended me on Facebook, and may have just read that last post. Oh well!
My window at work overlooks the street, one story up. This means that I get a good view of anyone approaching, and that they generally don’t see me.
So today a man in a suit is walking toward the building. First impression: “He has a really small head. Or perhaps his suit is just really loose in the shoulders.”
Then he scratches his cock through his pants. Fair enough, I think, sometimes that needs to be done. It was just a small adjustment, and he could reasonably have expected that nobody was watching.
Then he gets to the end of the cul-de-sac where my office is, as well as a couple more businesses. He looks around, confused, seemingly unsure whether the building that looks like a house is really where he’s going. He examines the surrounding buildings, then eventually steps toward this one, out of my sight.
I work for a bit, listening for the knock on the door. We have a big door knocker, so the entire building knows when someone arrives. But then I see him step back out, still looking confusedly at the doors around him. Then he fiddles with his littler head again. Then he opens his fly, reaches in, and spends the next ten or fifteen seconds vigorously shaking.
I’m not sure if he saw my “WTF” expression staring out the window at him or not, but he made a right-face and walked off.