Feminism Means Gender Equality, Not the Quashing of Flowers

In a late-night bout of procrastination tonight, I read through my friend Matt’s most recent blog entry in a series on communication, and feel obliged to comment in a place that is slightly more suited for my ramblings. I was going to refrain from commenting on people’s dating-themed blogs, mainly because my ideas of romantic relationships are rather unique and based purely on vicarious experience through my friends who have in fact seriously dated. Nevertheless, Matt referenced a piece in The Gateway that I read with Crystal on Tuesday and was somewhat agitated by, and I therefore feel an urge to play contrarian for a short while. I already briefly discussed with Matt and Rob how the article mentioned by Matt in his blog irked me during a pre-play tea break at Steeps on the routine Tuesday study group night, but this likely requires some actual argumentation. Of course I have an opinion on nearly everything (I really can’t think of anything that I don’t have a clear view on, though hopefully I’m still slightly flexible and open-minded), so I’m commenting on my blog despite a lack of expertise and lucidity at this hour of the evening. Essentially, the article proposed that the world of dating had been injured by the achievements of feminism in the previous century, and that a relationship is bettered when she is treated “like a princess.” I can only speak for myself, though I suspect that most of my friends (probably not most girls, though) would agree, in saying that the requisites for a good night vary widely depending on the two hanging out (I know, hanging out doesn’t sound very romantic, but I was going to use “spending the night together,” which suggests an entirely different batch of things, and I’m too tired to use nice cliché words). Clearly, some people find that engaging in the (perceivedly by me) antiquated rituals evolved from times when a girl was bought are quite fun and excellent modes of displaying affections, and they also feel that practices centred around motivations for a girl getting married involving primarily financial matters make a couple happy. Clear too is the fact that I disagree with this, but in general would have to state that whatever works for people works for me, as long as both people in the relationship are satisfied, and it is recognized that love isn't about material things, or the roles we play. At least a naîve view of romantic love would see love as being above purchased things and inauthentic gestures that are acted out simply out of good manners.

In studying love and romance a few times in psych courses, I’ve yet to come across anything that indicated that acting as if a girl might break at any moment (seriously, walking on the outside of the sidewalk? slightly presumptuous!) would deepen, further, or nurture the couple’s love. In the past, a guy would have assisted his date with the door, her chair, and the bill because she would have been burdened by constraining clothes, understood to be delicate, and unable to work. In fact, women are now quite capable of seating themselves and paying for things independently. Don’t get me wrong (which I’m sure most of you are by this point); it’s lovely to be the receiver of such courtesies, but is there something innate in females that allows them alone to appreciate courtesy? I certainly hope not. Thus, if somehow this civility does allow for respect and admiration to mature, and I suspect that they mostly do, then it might as well be reciprocal. If any of you have ever been with me in a Bible study wherein we are instructed to tell each other that God loves us like his princesses (and I know that a couple of you reading this have!), you already know how ridiculous I find that.

Why would one ever want to feel like a princess? I certainly enjoyed dressing up as one as a child for Halloween, and pretending to be Princess Diana with Jess as the prince when we were younger, but what use is having a boyfriend spend money on you and perform unhelpful rituals that effectively presume your fragility, weakness, one-dimensionality, materialism, inferior status, potential to be bought, and role as some sort of object whose purpose it is to be pretty and pampered. I’m sure that dear little Michelle does indeed want to feel adored, and people have a natural desire for love and acceptance, but to me at least, adoration does not at all connote purchases of plants, the opening of apparently onerous doors, or bizarre and antiquated practices of the somehow less vulnerable gender walking closer to the threat of cars driving onto the sidewalk. Not that I’m not delighted by others’ courtesy when a door is kept open for me, or the thoughtfulness of a lovely flower, but when these things are so gender specific and the possibilities for showing someone you care are so limited, I find them peculiar. For some reason, at times it apparently seems strange for a girl to open a door for a guy, yet I see no reason for it to seem strange; while those of us with an extra X chromosome (yay alliteration!) do have slightly less muscle mass than those with a Y chromosome, we are more than capable of walking through doorways without assistance.

As I assured a feminist-wary Dustin a while ago, I don’t get upset when a guy opens a door for me. That would be preposterously ridiculous. Conversely, I am slightly perturbed when guys open doors solely for those of the opposite sex, even if they’re married/dating (and thus clearly not simply opening doors for people who they are “interested” in, but rather acting out of a notion that girls are happy and greatly obliged when they don’t have to open the door for themselves). And hopefully I open doors, and act in similarly gracious ways when there’s an opportunity, whether for girls or guys. Similarly, if a guy enjoyed flowers, which is entirely in the realm of possibility, then a girl could totally get flowers for him once in a while; my dad definitely got a bouquet last Valentine’s Day, and had a splendid time painting them. I realize that all of these aforementioned “chivalrous” things are only done in an attempt to make the girl feel exceptional, cherished, revered, and worth all of these silly behaviours, but there are more than a million ways of conveying these things. It’s all about doing what’s right in that relationship I suppose, which may sometimes involve enacting a Michelle-style nineteenth century crazy date. If it thrills Michelle to completely disregard all of the many results of the women’s and feminist movement (and there are many; I am appalled that this writer appreciates roses more than the hundreds of things she now has the opportunity to do as a result of the women’s movement), then I have very few problems with her indulging these strange yearnings to her heart’s delight. It strikes me as unhealthy to be happiest with someone who you might spend the rest of your life with when you’re both dressed to the nines, he’s given you a flower, and he’s once again left to plan your time together. But perhaps that’s just because I’m my own person with my own preferences and beliefs about guys, the history of romance, and the course of relationships. Matt is totally dead on in remarking that there are many different “variables” that could be put into the dating formula (certainly more than 26!). I guess it’s perfectly fine for a guy in a dating relationship to be happy opening doors for his girlfriend, and for the girl to expect a rose on every date (but really, I struggle to think of that as anything but a completely superficial requirement). There are a nearly infinite number of ways of communicating affection, have fun with that special someone, learn and grow together, challenge each other, and glorify God through your time spent together. And, suffice it to say, there are a nearly infinite number of views on this subject; these are simply my tautological and late-night views on the issue at hand.

Long live chivalry! (In the gender-neutral, equitable, considerate, intelligent sense, of course.)

Completely Meandering Nostalgic Blog

Alarmingly enough, I’m still conscious after this day of all days, and despite the quasi-numbness of my legs remaining after my beautifully brilliant walk outside this afternoon (yay skirts!), I’m in a (likely fleeting) typing mood. This week has been overall full of the usual fun with family and friends, with comparatively less of the former since the non-Cait-Lobes (the non-Cait brand of Lobe is not quite as cool as Cait herself, but are pretty much on par with her in every other respect) are no longer on spring break. Nonetheless, studying and reading have certainly taken their toll over the past few days. I was attempting to remain cognizant Monday night to squeeze in a few more hours of psych studying, and failed rather pathetically, thus ditching a few MSN conversations (sorry guys!). However, I did manage to get up insanely early this morning post-late-night-Jess-chat (even before the sunrise; somehow my body agreed with my brain that sleep is unnecessary), and fit in a good chunk of reading before breakfast. Perhaps I should have taken the obvious predilection for sleep that I have developed over the past few days as a sign to give into my somnolent state, but Jess wasn’t home from her fabulous evening until latish yesterday, and I really had to tell her about the various adventures had whilst walking and the odd things discussed at small group. I may need to listen to something slightly less sedate than the Denison Witmer that I’ve been playing recently because his soothing voice and placid guitar playing only aggravate my desire to curl up in a ball on my heating vent with Jess’ blanket and some cocoa. I suspect that some Franz or DFA could do the trick, but my parents might be awakened by the great vigour of these bands, and Jess is quite reliable in her capacity of keeping me up. After a period of reading and eating so far this afternoon, I feel like spouting rather than absorbing right now, though I really am drained currently and have very little on my mind besides conditioning and how much I loathe behaviourists; seriously, John Watson is very difficult to take seriously. The chapter I just finished actually dared to propose that hallucinations are conditioned behaviour. Therefore typing it is.

While the weekend was rather hectic at times, it was quite enjoyable all in all. After finally getting off work at 6:30 when Catherine arrived at the café from her overlong nap on Friday, and scrounging around unsuccessfully for Andrew’s cell number, I had the most agreeable sandwich at Great Canadian Bagel (the usual turkey on an un-toasted sesame seed bagel with everything except cucumber, cheese, and green peppers). Following a tasty supper, it was movie time with some excellent company in my basement! There was much enjoyment of Audrey Tatou, and of course AFV in between, since nothing can beat the magnificence of Americans indulging in their beloved stupidity and dangerous activities. After falling prey to a plethora of pranks at work, and finding about half of them amusing, I was done with the café (for another six days), which was rather lovely. However, the pranking wasn’t done at noon when I headed back home, because soon after arriving home and eating some lunch, I found a tremendously convincing post from Jill on the C&C forum implying that she had been ensnared by Mormonism. Despite the seeming impossibility of such a thought, I was in a gullible frame of mind, and was on the verge of tears and a phone call to Jill in an attempt to knock some sense into her and remind her of how she had previously referred to Mormon beliefs as lies. Thankfully, after calling Jess into my room to see what she made of it, we realized that Jill is silly and droll, and was simply hoaxing us. I subsequently drew Crystal and Ben’s attention to said post, and had some April Fool’s fun of my own. The series of odd events that followed that afternoon were quite delightful, but Jeremy summed them up charmingly in his blog, so I’ll leave it to him to illustrate the oddity and fun of Saturday afternoon. I will add, though, that I had a great deal of fun observing Jeremy and Rob in fabulous sunglasses, carping about sweatshops, hearing about interesting adventures in Hindu and Buddhist temples from Hayley L. and Matt, learning about La Senza secret fashion shows from Jill, discussing the excellence of white jeans with Matt, feeling the very strange material of some underwear in La Senza as pointed out by Jill, being yelled at repeatedly while listening to my iPod, not realizing that I was being yelled at repeatedly while listening to my iPod, reading weird cards that Jeremy picked out, nitpicking about the innate sadism in Rob’s violent sound effects, packing into Matt’s car and not having to sit in the trunk as Matt suggeste, observing Hayley L. model belts, and meeting people haphazardly.

















Since it would take ages and eons to describe all of the occurrences that took place at Nicole’s remarkable party on Saturday night, I’ll write another list of excellent things that no one needs to read. It’s simply fun to recount all of the fun episodes. Besides all of the cake, chips, and cupcakes that were had throughout the duration of the evening, there was discussion of books with highly literate friends Tara and Robin, enjoyment of Monica’s absurd definitions in Balderdash, efforts by Tara and Catherine to convince me of the reality of steamy cottage cheese (according to the grapevine, it does exist), the ostensible telepathic ability of the group to contemplate inflammation, conversation over the meaning and irony of my money shirt, subjection to Robin and Gavin’s Machiavellian tactics in Uno (I was the ultimate winner, of course), Speed Scrabble with a very loquacious group of people at the kitchen table, forgetting of presents, random acquaintance with people in the snack area, agreement with Jasmine and Katie over the greatness of Maggie and Jake Gyllenhaal, consideration of premature Iroquois babies, Tim’s reference of Neil as “the guy with the beard” with Neil right behind the couch, and time spent in a purportedly mildew-teeming van. Needless to say, without a curfew, there was much fun had at Nicole’s.

















Sunday comprised of a lack of coffee before church at the café, the superb service, followed by the intensely anticipated Sunday lunch celebration of the return of Grandma and Grandpa from snowbirding lunacy. Jess and I even got to conduct the inaugural sticking-our-heads-out-the-car-window-until-your-tongue-is-as-dry-as-possible warm weather celebration (pictures included in blog). My grandparents are the people who I respect and admire the most out of anyone I’ve ever met, for about a million reasons which I obviously can’t touch on for reasons of time and space constraints. Please skim over this part, as I’ll likely go on and on about all the reasons I love them and consider them to be so terrific. I have an extreme tendency to love the things and people that I love to an immoderate extent, and as a result am prone to droning on and on about them. But I truly must illustrate how remarkable they are at least a little. My grandma is a brilliant woman who grew up in Edmonton, went to Vic for high school, and was at the top of her class in her Arts & Sciences program in university. She met my grandpa through IVCF at my dear old U of A when he was the lovely treasurer of the group and an engineering student, and from the pictures I’ve seen of them, they were the most adorable couple to have ever dated (you were forewarned about my bias, so you could judge the previous statement to be rather subjective I suppose). Once they’d finished their degrees, and after my grandpa’s stint at GE, he realized that God was calling him to do yet another four years of university at McMaster to eventually become a pastor. He was the simultaneous pastor at three churches in an Anglophone region of Québéc while my mom and her three siblings were young children, and later moved to Clive where my mom’s family lived with cows, farmers, and the freedom of a small town community until my grandpa became the pastor at Zion when my mom was in grade 9. They’ve been at Zion ever since, and are the most generous (with their time, money, and home) people in my life, and are incredibly sincere and deliberate in their walks with God. Not only are they a wonderful couple to look up to, but they’re also unbelievably zany, with my grandpa’s intense love of jokes, astronomy, chatting, and engineering and my grandma’s penchant for gardening, working far too much, and our shared love of grammar and abhorrence of cats.

I’ve just realized that there is nothing at all deep about this blog, and I need to get back to the reading in a minute, so I think that I’ll make a list of deep things I’ve been thinking over recently and leave it at that. After a few days of delightful sunshine, it’s now raining, perhaps a signal that I should initiate the obsessive studying mode and cease the usual disproportionate level of fun. Although watching engineering cars, hockey games, and plays in the past couple of days have been enjoyable enough to make a week of studying entirely worth it. I’ve learned not to talk to Rob or Tyler on the phone when in complete hysteria with Crystal, that making hockey signs is extraordinarily fun, how delicious Papa John’s mini-pizzas are, why it is unwise to wear long-johns on very warm days, that I’ve been missing out on the joys of essentially fan-free and side-splitting St. Joe’s hockey games, how Crystal is at times a phone-a-phobe, that Dusty has no problem eating lip chap, that using cell phones is not free (scandalous, I know, but I forget this a great deal), how close to the ceiling of the library parkade Caitlin’s van actually is, why plays focusing on mortality and relationships are so brilliant, that Caitlin may actually see Gig working in a McDonald’s (very exciting!), how to sneak a Steeps chai latté into the Citadel, and that it is still a bit chilly outside at night. I shall leave you with the previously promised lists, and likely write a consequential blog when finals are over (May really can’t come soon enough, though the middle of April is approaching at an alarmingly speedy rate). Hope everyone’s studying and enjoyment of April showers is going brilliantly, and that none of my friends will end up requiring psychological assistance by the end of this month of mixed blessings and hardships.

















Things in April to Be Happy About
- Easter and Palm Sunday
- rain and sunshine in perfectly balanced amounts
- the nearing of summer
- reading outside on the lawn
- the return of Sunday dinners at Grandma’s
- late-night swinging
- my grandparents’ FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY
- finding sunny and rainy MSN display pictures
- football contracts being signed
- early Eskies chat
- formulating pro and con lists for Crystal (I’m not posting them Crystal)
- Philomena Guinea’s slightly increased fortitude in warmer weather
- the cool picture for April in my Beatles calendar

Slightly Less Excellent Things in April
- friends preparing to leave the city
- required lack of fun evenings
- required sleep to study more effectively
- instructor evaluations
- exams

Things to Do in May
- picnic in Hawrelak and my yard
- walk and bike in the river valley
- find a cool vintage bike
- eat exorbitant amounts of fruit
- write essays for friends
- have more serious fun (not that silly fun isn’t fulfilling and extremely fabulous, but I haven’t had enough indie movies, good plays, walks with friends, coffees with friends, deep conversations with non-Jess friends, listening-to-music-silently sessions with friends, interesting concerts, art gallery perusals, political debates, game nights, or enjoyment of speakers and poets on campus recently)
- write postcards to people who are going away
- prepare for Jay Jay’s birthday in June
- ignore my allergies and my refusal to take drugs, and instead hang out in the outdoors as much as possible
- find new summer music
- listen to old nostalgic summer music
- be absurd and odd in typical “hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer”-style

















Recent Considerations
- why Christians use different faces of Jesus to conveniently justify their different behaviours
- how being nice is extraordinarily draining and difficult at times
- how being nice is extraordinarily important
- how seldom people are nice in certain places at certain times
- the importance of academics
- why ignorance of global issues is so common
- the line between being fake and being affable
- white lies
- that adulthood really does mean a lack of time to do everything that one wants to
- how I need to buck up and study hard right now regardless of how torturous it is
- that my own mediocrity makes me ill at times
- that often clichés are amazingly true, and rarely applied
- the purpose of Lent
- the hope and challenge of Easter
- how weary I feel right now
- how un-weary I’ll feel when I eat my sandwich (hopefully!)