Patriarchy, home-cooked.
Some of you may know about my not-so-rosy relationship with my father. For those that don't, here is a brief overview:
My father is a devout Christian man who sees himself as the God-ordained head of the household. He imposes this authority over the rest of the family. He does not listen, and does not take kindly to his opinions being questioned in any way. 'Discussions' with him have never actually functioned as actual discussions: rather, they are platforms upon which he lectures and preaches. Discussion would actually involve participation on my part.
I don't talk to him much. I've learnt over the years that it's pointless, that I could probably talk to a random stranger on George St. who'd listen more than he does. So there's polite conversation, but never anything deeper. And I am learning that this man, who styles himself a patriarch, is racist (he sees Muslim people as somehow threatening), homophobic (he was outraged that I dared to go to the Mardi Gras), and sexist.
His sexist attitudes are the focus of this post. These attitudes were made plain last night, at dinner. Politics somehow made it to dinner 'discussion', and he opined that he would not vote for Julia Gillard, deputy of the Labor party, because of her hair. Yes, her hair. He repeated this several times, even after I told him in no uncertain terms that it was not funny in the slightest, and was highly offensive.
I told him that he was only saying that because she was female. His defense was that since she's a public figure, her image is up for scrutiny. Yes, politicians' images are up for scrutiny. But this pertains to their behaviour, not what they wear, and how they cut their hair. Otherwise John Howard probably would not be in power due to that bald patch, and Kim Beazley would be criticised for his weight. My father could not understand that it was a double standard to criticise Gillard's hair. He couldn't see that it was sexist to judge a female politician on her physical appearance rather than her compentence or beliefs.
The next defense he scuttled to, because I didn't back down for once, was that he was a man, and therefore would look at women differently to how he would look at men. I don't deny that one's sexuality means that one's more likely to be attracted to certain genders. This does not excuse, however, the inappropriateness of his critique. The implication of his defense is that it's natural for female forms to be presented to males for acceptance or critique. That because we possess vaginas and breasts, we are automatically up for public scrutiny in a way that men are never subjected to. It's the kind of sentiment that to some extent drives the catcallers on the street, the harrassers.
That sends a clear message: No matter what you do, how accomplished you are, how you may express yourself, YOU ARE STILL DEFINED BY YOUR CUNT. It's a way to put women in their place.
The final defence he resorted to, before I left the table, was to say that I was condemning him for his opinion. I did not say these words then, for fear of offending and escalating the situation, and for fear of physical confrontation, but I'll damn well say them now. Yes, I fucking well condemn you for your misogynist views. You have a wife and two daughters, and yet you persist in putting us in our place, persist in contributing to the disenfranchisement of the women in your family, social network and workplace. So fuck you, daddy dearest. Don't expect any filial aid when you're toothless and grey.
My father is a devout Christian man who sees himself as the God-ordained head of the household. He imposes this authority over the rest of the family. He does not listen, and does not take kindly to his opinions being questioned in any way. 'Discussions' with him have never actually functioned as actual discussions: rather, they are platforms upon which he lectures and preaches. Discussion would actually involve participation on my part.
I don't talk to him much. I've learnt over the years that it's pointless, that I could probably talk to a random stranger on George St. who'd listen more than he does. So there's polite conversation, but never anything deeper. And I am learning that this man, who styles himself a patriarch, is racist (he sees Muslim people as somehow threatening), homophobic (he was outraged that I dared to go to the Mardi Gras), and sexist.
His sexist attitudes are the focus of this post. These attitudes were made plain last night, at dinner. Politics somehow made it to dinner 'discussion', and he opined that he would not vote for Julia Gillard, deputy of the Labor party, because of her hair. Yes, her hair. He repeated this several times, even after I told him in no uncertain terms that it was not funny in the slightest, and was highly offensive.
I told him that he was only saying that because she was female. His defense was that since she's a public figure, her image is up for scrutiny. Yes, politicians' images are up for scrutiny. But this pertains to their behaviour, not what they wear, and how they cut their hair. Otherwise John Howard probably would not be in power due to that bald patch, and Kim Beazley would be criticised for his weight. My father could not understand that it was a double standard to criticise Gillard's hair. He couldn't see that it was sexist to judge a female politician on her physical appearance rather than her compentence or beliefs.
The next defense he scuttled to, because I didn't back down for once, was that he was a man, and therefore would look at women differently to how he would look at men. I don't deny that one's sexuality means that one's more likely to be attracted to certain genders. This does not excuse, however, the inappropriateness of his critique. The implication of his defense is that it's natural for female forms to be presented to males for acceptance or critique. That because we possess vaginas and breasts, we are automatically up for public scrutiny in a way that men are never subjected to. It's the kind of sentiment that to some extent drives the catcallers on the street, the harrassers.
That sends a clear message: No matter what you do, how accomplished you are, how you may express yourself, YOU ARE STILL DEFINED BY YOUR CUNT. It's a way to put women in their place.
The final defence he resorted to, before I left the table, was to say that I was condemning him for his opinion. I did not say these words then, for fear of offending and escalating the situation, and for fear of physical confrontation, but I'll damn well say them now. Yes, I fucking well condemn you for your misogynist views. You have a wife and two daughters, and yet you persist in putting us in our place, persist in contributing to the disenfranchisement of the women in your family, social network and workplace. So fuck you, daddy dearest. Don't expect any filial aid when you're toothless and grey.
posted by Bless | 11:17 pm
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