Oct 03

The Portrait, by Chris Wind

The Portrait, by Chris Wind (from Deare Sister)

 

My dearest Nannerl,

Of course you have a right to be upset about the portrait. After all, you performed right alongside your brother; in fact, your father had the bills printed to read “Two World Wonders.” Two, not one. You were with Wolfgang on the 1762 tour through Passau and Linz to Munich and Vienna; I remember Count Zinzendort called you (not Wolfgang) “a little master”. And you went again through Germany, in 1763, this time to Augsburg and Ludwigsburg as well as Munich, on to Paris, and then to London where the two of you performed that sonata for the Queen of England. And in 1765 you performed in Holland. No, do not doubt yourself, Nannerl: you were quite correct in calling Carmontelle’s portrait inaccurate because it shows Wolfgang at the keyboard, your father at the violin, and you merely holding the music for them. And he said you insulted him! I do know how you feel about the matter and I am completely on your side. Nevertheless, I must ask you to apologize.

And I know that your father’s recent decision to leave you at home and take only Wolfgang on this next tour doesn’t make it any easier. Though I admit to being glad not to be left at home by myself for once, I know it is terribly unfair. And I am writing this letter not to excuse or justify your father, but to explain. Nannerl, you are not to take his decision personally. It is not, as you first thought, that you are not good enough. Recall the Elector of Munich insisted on hearing you play the clavier, not Wolfgang; and there are many who share his high regard for your abilities. Nannerl, you are an excellent musician, a great performer. Nor is it that you have fallen out of favour with your father; he loves you as much as he ever did. (Which is, unfortunately, not as much as he loves Wolfgang. He is a man of his times. Didn’t you ever wonder why he started Wolfgang on lessons at a younger age than he started you? Surely you noticed he spent more time with Wolfgang? And it wasn’t until Wolfgang was ready to appear in public that he let you perform. You were young then, and perhaps did not notice… All the better. But I know Wolfgang had a head start right from birth and—but enough, I am getting ahead of myself.) Nor is the reason for your father’s decision, as you also suggested, that he considers you too frail to withstand life on the road. Wolfgang too came down with typhus in Holland.

Then why, you must be crying out! Let me try to explain. There is a time in every girl’s life when, suddenly, people stop treating her as a person—and start treating her, instead, as a mere woman. All of the doors that until that time were open are suddenly shut. All except one. It happens to every one of us, some time between twelve and twenty. It is happening now to you. (And later, when that door has been passed through, it too will close, and there will be nothing left: nothing left open to go back to, and nothing open yet to go forward to. As soon as I gave birth to a boy, your father’s attention rapidly shifted: I was of no more importance and Wolfgang was everything—but again I digress.)

This time of life is particularly difficult for someone like you, someone for whom the open doors promised such glory and richness. Why, when still a youth you were performing in all the great centers of Europe, you received excellent reviews and return engagements, you were meeting with all the important musicians of the day, you had a knowledge and experience of the outside world forbidden to others of your sex and age. And you were beautiful too, I know enough of the world to know this is an asset. Oh Nannerl, you had it all! Not even your brother had your beauty! But he had something more important: the right sex.

It’s a betrayal, I know it. It dashes to the ground all of the things you thought mattered: ability, dedication, desire. I had a talent for singing. I found it hard too, when I realized that I was not destined to become a famous singer. But, alas, I loved your father and wanted a family, so I accepted that loss for another gain. But you, Nannerl, I suspect it will be a long time before you marry, if at all, and perhaps you will not have any children. So it must be particularly frustrating and painful to have the only door you ever wanted open, suddenly closed.

I know this is little consolation, and indeed in a less generous heart, it would be salt to the wound, but remember, without you, Wolfgang would not be where he is today. You helped him become what he is. Much as your father likes to take all the credit for Wolfgang, it is simply not true. He had a family to support, a job to do, and while he was away playing in the consort, and directing the choir, it was you Wolfgang learned from. Remember in London, when Wolfgang was introduced to Johann Christoph Bach and the two of them, taking turns, with Wolfgang seated between Bach’s legs, the two of them played a sonata together and afterwards improvised. What a delight that was to everyone! Of course I knew it was with you he learned how to do that. I remember you, as a mere girl of ten, taking your little brother, then six, and ‘babysitting’ him just like that. And there was so much more. All the musical games you made up, and the time you spent helping his little hand form the notes on the staff when he could not yet write the letters of the alphabet. When I saw how much more valuable it was to have you spend time with your music and with your brother, well, I did not force upon you all the domestic duties it is common for daughters to bear. Besides, how many women get to do the washing and cooking to the music of such artistic genius!

And all of that makes this last bit even harder to tell you. You suggested that I ask Carmontelle to re-do the portrait. That is an excellent idea, but it cannot be done. You see, the one you saw was already a second version, done at my insistence. Nannerl, in the first one, you were not there at all. The man had excluded you completely, left you out altogether. (And the portrait you see now is his idea of atonement.)

 

Love,

Mother

 

***

 

The biographical aspects implied or referred to in “The Portrait” are factual (Leopold teaching Wolfgang at an earlier age than Nannerl; Nannerl playing with Wolfgang at the piano, teaching him; Nannerl allowed to perform in public only when Wolfgang was ready to do so; the typhus in Holland; the episode with J.C.Bach and Wolfgang; Leopold’s decision to leave Nannerl at home when he went to Italy with Wolfgang). So are the tours mentioned, the advertisements, and the reviews. And, of course, factual too are the portraits by Carmontelle: the alleged original and the revision.

Oct 03

The APA is so fucked up.

Why Are Some People Transgender? an APA pamphlet [1] asks.

Their answer?  “Many experts believe that biological factors such as genetic influences and prenatal hormone levels, early experiences, and experiences later in adolescence or adulthood may all contribute to the development of transgender identities.”

Um, no.  People are transgender because they are intelligent and thoughtful enough to realize that gendered behaviours are typically constraining and that feminine behaviours in particular subordinating.  And so, they reject them; they refuse to conform to the gender expectations aligned to their sex.

 

How Does Someone Know They Are Transgender? the pamphlet then asks.

Their answer?  “They may have vague feelings of “not fitting in” with people of their assigned sex or specific wishes to be something other than their assigned sex. Others become aware of their transgender identities or begin to explore and experience gender-nonconforming attitudes and behaviors during adolescence or much later in life.”

Again, no.  I know I’m a writer because when I write, I actually realize that that’s what I’m doing when I do it.  Similarly, when I refuse to wear make-up and high heels, I know I’m doing it.  I’m that aware.  And I know it’s transgressive.  I’m also that aware.  I know what the gender expectations are in our society, so I know when I’m refusing to meet them.  That’s how I know I’m transgender.

One doesn’t “become aware” of one’s gender identity.  One creates it.  One chooses it.  Unlike sex [2], sexual orientation, height, skin colour, eye colour …  gender is not a biological given.  It’s an arbitrary collection of preferences that ‘society’ says should you should adopt: the so-called feminine collection is supposed to be adopted by female people, and the so-called masculine collection is supposed to be adopted by male people.

Do you always do what you’re supposed to do?

_____

1. “What Does It Mean to Be Transgender?” from “Answers to Your Questions About Transgender People, Gender Identity, and Gender Expression” American Psychological Association 2011.http://www.apa.org/topics/lgbt/transgender.pef

2. Which is why it’s particularly disturbing that professional psychologists believe that “Sex is assigned at birth …”  No, sex is recognized at birth (or before, if a conclusive ultrasound is obtained).  Typically by external genitalia.

Sep 28

Some excellent insights about gender identity by Sharon Thrace

“[Gender identity] holds that ‘feeling like a woman’ (whatever that means) is the same as being a woman.  It’s a callous disregard for our lifetime of oppression, the limits placed upon our participation in society, the ever-present threat of rape we face.  It’s an erasure of the quarter of our lives we spend managing bleeding and pain, the constant diligence we must employ to prevent pregnancy.  It’s a gross insensitivity of the staggering percentage of us who are victims of sexual assault, starting in childhood.  We face these realities because we have female bodies and because of how men treat people who inhabit such bodies.  There exists no fashion choice nor inner angst that can bring men closer to this experience.”

“It takes a great deal of male privilege to ‘choose’ your gender, as if gender weren’t a set of obligations and proscriptions designed to keep women physically, emotionally, and financially handicapped.”

“[My transgender husband] likes to complain that I don’t recognize him as a woman, something he sees as a great offense.  But the iron is that he does not recognize me as a woman. … My biology is not irrelevant. My experience cannot be duplicated by trying on my clothes.”

from “Destruction of a Marriage: My Husband’s Descent into Transgenderism,” by Sharon Thrace.  in Female Erasure, edited by Ruth Barrett.

Sep 26

More insights about transgenderism, by Ruth Barrett

“Imagine …

“If the vocal trans majority had not chosen to focus their energy on re-defining women in their image, and instead proudly claimed themselves to be gender non-conforming men …

“If they had not insisted on erasing our biology or their own in order to validate their gender identity, and instead acknowledged themselves as males who simply choose to adopt and express a gender stereotypical feminine appearance.

“If they had not bullied themselves into female spaces and worked to make illegal our private spaces, and instead showed themselves to be true allies of women by respecting and protecting our needs.

“If they allowed themselves to feel even a fraction of empathy that they fully expect from women and girls toward their needs.

“If they had not focused their anger at women for the actual violence they experience at the hands of other males.”

 

Ruth Barrett, in Female Erasure (p.481)

 

EXACTLY.

Sep 20

Algorithms perpetuate sexism …

Check out this interview for a VERY enlightening (and scarey) interview about how algorithms are perpetuating sexism in its many, many, aspects:

Why algorithms aren’t working for women

Sep 19

The Hook-Up (a very short screenplay)

FADE IN:

INT. BAR — NIGHT

Crowded bar scene.  MAN and WOMAN do the standard flirting thing, he buys her a drink, they dance, then exit.  Their dialogue isn’t important — the bar’s too loud for us to hear much anyway.  But it’s clear that both are willing to engage in the sex that follows.

 

INT. APARTMENT — LATER

They enter her apartment and move through it toward the bedroom, happily and heatedly, kissing, touching, and unbuttoning each other on the way.

 

INT. BEDROOM — CONTINUOUS

They are on the bed, then in the bed, which has a nightstand right beside it, then while intercourse is clearly occurring —

WOMAN: So, do you want a girl or a boy?

He stops mid-thrust.

MAN: What?

He pulls out.  Grimaces at his limpness.

WOMAN: Well, you aren’t using any contraception, so it stands to reason you want a child.  I mean, you must know that —

(she gestures vaguely)

MAN: (rolling off her; things are clearly over) Of course I know — No, I don’t want a kid —

He’s up and dressing.

MAN (CONT’D): I assumed you were —

WOMAN: Pretty important thing to just take for granted, isn’t it?

MAN: (his anger increasing) What is this, some sort of trap?

WOMAN: Not at all.  I’m okay with it. I mean, I’ll charge for incubation services, $50,000 is about standard, and then I’ll give you the kid, no strings —

MAN: I don’t want a kid!

WOMAN: Then why —

MAN: Because you’re the one who gets pregnant!

WOMAN: I realize that.  And as I said, I’m okay with it.  If you’re the one not okay with it, if you’re the one who doesn’t want this to be reproductive sex, then you’re the one who should be using contraception.

He says nothing as he continues to dress.

WOMAN (CONT’D): Are you usually this adept at separating cause and effect?  At not looking at the consequences of your actions?

He reaches for his jacket.

WOMAN (CONT’D): I mean, if you and a friend do a B & E together and he’s the only one who gets caught, you’re okay with that?  You’d really not consider yourself equally responsible?

MAN: (quite angry now) I’d consider myself lucky.  Bitch!

He strides out of the bedroom.

WOMAN: (cheerily) I’ll call you!

Sep 15

Men, Noise, and A Simple Request, Really

I finally figured it out — why the men in my neighborhood react with such escalated lack of consideration whenever I ask them, politely, to limit their noise.  I’ve asked snowmobilers who are out racing around the lake and having a good time going VROOM VROOM to please just turn around a few seconds before they get to the very end of the lake, which is where I live; I’ve asked dirt bikers to please ride up and down and up and down on a section of road that doesn’t have a bunch of people living there; I’ve asked men who are building new houses to please put the compressor behind the house (so the building acts as a berm) rather than on the lake side (which means, of course, that the noise not only skids across the lake with wonderful efficiency, but also that it then bounces off the hills, echoing amplified all over the place); I’ve asked men to at least close their lakeside doors and windows when they’re using their power tools inside.  (And I’d like to ask them if they really, seriously, need to use a leafblower — we live in the forest, for godsake.)

And almost every single time, not only has the man not acceded to my request, he’s escalated his noise-making and/or responded with confrontational aggression.

Do I live in a neighborhood with an unrepresentative number of inconsiderate assholes?

No.  Here’s what’s happening.  (As I say, I’ve finally figured it out.)  Partly it’s because I’m a woman asking a man to do something.  Most men do not want to be seen taking orders from a woman; even to accede to a woman’s request is apparently too much for their egos.  My male neighbour has made similar requests and the responses have been along the lines of ‘Sure, no problem.’

And partly, it’s because making noise is perceived to be an integral part of being a man.  I’ve long known ‘My car is my penis’ but I never realized that that was partly because of the noise of the car.  I didn’t know that men routinely modify the mufflers of their dirt bikes in order to make them louder.  And then I happened to catch a Canadian Tire advertisement on television (I seldom watch television) and was absolutely amazed at the blatant association of masculinity with power tools, the promise that ‘You’ll be more of a man when you use this million-horsepower table saw’ or whatever.

So the resistance to my requests is because I’m essentially asking that they castrate themselves.

Sep 12

Football takes precedence over climate refugees

People are fleeing for their lives from North and South Carolina, but there may not be enough rooms in hotels because — football.  Apparently there’s a (male) game scheduled for play and (mostly male) people have come to watch.

Clear evidence of the male obsession with competition having a stranglehold — wait, the hurricane itself is clear evidence of that: a long but incontestable causal chain leads back from the increasing frequency and severity of storms to the desire of (overwhelmingly) male executives and stockholders (of, for example, oil companies) to become rich — i.e., to be #1, to win.

And as is their way, they give the hurricane a female name; as if we’re to blame.

My god, is there no end to their psychopathology??

 

 

Sep 12

“The Adult Market”

What’s adult about forcing someone to do something she doesn’t really want to do?

What’s adult about doing sexual things to children?

What’s adult about humiliating another person?

What’s adult about hurting another person?

 

We should call it what it is.  The psychopathic sociopathic misogynist market.  The sick fucks market.

 

 

(I’d intended to be more specific, but I’m concerned that the psychopathic sociopathic misogynist dudes would like that.  Plus, merely describing these things repulses me.)

 

 

Sep 12

Women Writing Science Fiction as Men — why bother?

I’ve just finished reading Mike Resnick’s collections Women Writing Science Fiction as Men and Men Writing Science Fiction as Women.  There were two rules for submissions to the anthologies: “First, each story had to be told in the first person of a man [woman]; and second, if changing the narrator from Victor to Victoria [or vice versa] didn’t invalidate the story we didn’t want it.”

So what he ended up with was a bunch of stories emphasizing the gender stereotypes we all know and hate so well.  The women wrote about men who were competitive and primarily interested in sex.  The men wrote about women who were nurturing and primarily mothers.  Ho hum.

What would have been far more interesting, and far more challenging (though a challenge sf writers, if anyone, are certainly up to), would have been stories in which changing the narrator from Victor to Victoria (or vice versa) would not have invalidated the story, would have made no difference whatsoever.

Those are the stories I want to read!  That’s a future (a fantasy?) I want to live in!

 

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