Open Source Boobs
So, a few people have asked if I would be ditching my planned fem theory Thursday post on misogyny at work to talk about this.
I think everything has been said several times over, by articulate and thoughtful folks. So my plan is no.
For those of you who are interested, here are my thoughts in pseudo-concentrate. There's likely nothing here you've not read elsewhere.
a. Dude, you live in an "open source boobs" society already. The patriarchal view that it's entitled to my bod on its own terms is, you know, here and dominates our discourse. Welcome to your utopia.
b. "Open Source Boobs" reads as little more to me than geekspeak for "SHOW US YER TITS!" The Male Gaze, Now With MORE HANDS! And, um, yeah. That's not new. Not new to women, anyhow, which brings me to....
c. ...you could write a paper on the privileging of the male perspective in even thinking there was something new, interesting, and fabulous about this project. Girls gone wild with furries? And the privilege to not even realize that even women who said yes might be negatively affected...the privilege of not having to think like a woman in a male-dominated space...the privilege inherent in wanting to "de-mystify" and "de-sexualize" physical intimacy and having your best idea be about MY breasts? (which, by the way, are sexual, and I like them that way, so, no thanks!). I mean, even taking all of the good intentions at face value--which I've not decided if I do or not--but even giving the whole project the benefit of the doubt on intent, that is a spectacular and raging case of Ignorance Of Your Own Male Privilege you got goin' on there, bud. You should get that checked.
d. I've read lots of really good posts all ready on how it's not just as simple as saying "no," and even being asked could very likely change the nature of the space for women attending the con. Just the fact that someone would ask me that would have, when I was younger, made me think twice about how I responded for fear of violence. I managed to dodge all this by attending panel after panel and going to bed early, but if someone would have asked me, my likely response would have been "Are you fucking kidding me? Seriously? Are you 12?" But that response would have hidden a ton of emotional triggers inside my head. At 20? I may very well have said yes, and whoo! Watch the damage build.
You know, I had a GREAT time at Penguicon. It was my first con, and you know, it was really neat to walk around and hang out with a ton of people that share my interests. I didn't feel like I had to be a shiny bauble all of the time I was there, and I didn't think it was all about the booty or all about my gender. It felt like safe space to me, significantly more so than at work or in other social venues. And I'm not a big party girl, but I'm certainly not a prude (as anyone likely reading this can probably attest). Had I known about this while it was going on, it wouldn't have been the end of the world, but at the very least I would have experienced a very unsatisfying, sinking feeling, one I'm really familiar with--the "oh, here too" feeling. The knowledge that even though I'm allowed in the clubhouse now, it's on sufferance, and I'd better be willing to put out or be sexualized in some way or on some level, or be reminded that if I don't, it's because I'm a prude, or humorless, or I don't really belong. It's just a reminder that to an awful lot of folks, it's really all about my tits, all of the time, and my sexuality should be "open source," simply because some group of people think it's a good idea.
The thing I hope EVERYONE takes from this, though, is that THIS WAS NOT INNOVATIVE. We hear it every day, guys. You're not cutting edge if you're asking to touch my breasts, even if you give me a button. Now that I think about it, in fact, this post will tie in quite nicely to the planned fem theory Thursday post on worklife here at BIGLAW. I mean, that's what Open Source Boobs is to me: a reflection of my life EVERY DAY. Hooray! A segment of fandom managed to behave just like a bunch of over-compensating corporate lawyers, testosterone-charged high-school football players, and hockey dads in mid-life crisis.
Wasn't the first time. Won't be the last. I blame the patriarchy. :)
I think everything has been said several times over, by articulate and thoughtful folks. So my plan is no.
For those of you who are interested, here are my thoughts in pseudo-concentrate. There's likely nothing here you've not read elsewhere.
a. Dude, you live in an "open source boobs" society already. The patriarchal view that it's entitled to my bod on its own terms is, you know, here and dominates our discourse. Welcome to your utopia.
b. "Open Source Boobs" reads as little more to me than geekspeak for "SHOW US YER TITS!" The Male Gaze, Now With MORE HANDS! And, um, yeah. That's not new. Not new to women, anyhow, which brings me to....
c. ...you could write a paper on the privileging of the male perspective in even thinking there was something new, interesting, and fabulous about this project. Girls gone wild with furries? And the privilege to not even realize that even women who said yes might be negatively affected...the privilege of not having to think like a woman in a male-dominated space...the privilege inherent in wanting to "de-mystify" and "de-sexualize" physical intimacy and having your best idea be about MY breasts? (which, by the way, are sexual, and I like them that way, so, no thanks!). I mean, even taking all of the good intentions at face value--which I've not decided if I do or not--but even giving the whole project the benefit of the doubt on intent, that is a spectacular and raging case of Ignorance Of Your Own Male Privilege you got goin' on there, bud. You should get that checked.
d. I've read lots of really good posts all ready on how it's not just as simple as saying "no," and even being asked could very likely change the nature of the space for women attending the con. Just the fact that someone would ask me that would have, when I was younger, made me think twice about how I responded for fear of violence. I managed to dodge all this by attending panel after panel and going to bed early, but if someone would have asked me, my likely response would have been "Are you fucking kidding me? Seriously? Are you 12?" But that response would have hidden a ton of emotional triggers inside my head. At 20? I may very well have said yes, and whoo! Watch the damage build.
You know, I had a GREAT time at Penguicon. It was my first con, and you know, it was really neat to walk around and hang out with a ton of people that share my interests. I didn't feel like I had to be a shiny bauble all of the time I was there, and I didn't think it was all about the booty or all about my gender. It felt like safe space to me, significantly more so than at work or in other social venues. And I'm not a big party girl, but I'm certainly not a prude (as anyone likely reading this can probably attest). Had I known about this while it was going on, it wouldn't have been the end of the world, but at the very least I would have experienced a very unsatisfying, sinking feeling, one I'm really familiar with--the "oh, here too" feeling. The knowledge that even though I'm allowed in the clubhouse now, it's on sufferance, and I'd better be willing to put out or be sexualized in some way or on some level, or be reminded that if I don't, it's because I'm a prude, or humorless, or I don't really belong. It's just a reminder that to an awful lot of folks, it's really all about my tits, all of the time, and my sexuality should be "open source," simply because some group of people think it's a good idea.
The thing I hope EVERYONE takes from this, though, is that THIS WAS NOT INNOVATIVE. We hear it every day, guys. You're not cutting edge if you're asking to touch my breasts, even if you give me a button. Now that I think about it, in fact, this post will tie in quite nicely to the planned fem theory Thursday post on worklife here at BIGLAW. I mean, that's what Open Source Boobs is to me: a reflection of my life EVERY DAY. Hooray! A segment of fandom managed to behave just like a bunch of over-compensating corporate lawyers, testosterone-charged high-school football players, and hockey dads in mid-life crisis.
Wasn't the first time. Won't be the last. I blame the patriarchy. :)