Full Frontal Feminism: A Young Woman's Guide to Why Feminism Matters (14 page)

Perhaps the most disturbing part of all the love mania that we’re subjected to is that it’s increasingly consumer based. If you’re not buying something, you’re not in love. Forget romantic connections and chemistry—it’s about the gifts, the dates, the wedding dress, the ring. More and more, young women are being taught that you can measure love in dollars. And that’s dangerous for men
and
women.

I think that romantic relationships or life partnerships are truly important parts of our lives—but they’re not the only part. Women are being taught that all we’re worth is what guys think of us. This screws up younger women particularly, because that indoctrination starts early and takes a while to get rid of (if you ever do). When you learn from an early age that the best a girl can hope for is to be desired by boys, you’re going to do everything you can to make sure that you are desired. Period.

So as lovely as romance can be, we have to make sure that we’re not falling into the trap of making our entire life about searching for an unrealistic notion of happiness. While falling in love is fun, it’s not everything, and it’s not the antidote to an unfulfilled life, despite what Reese Witherspoon movies may tell you.

Even the most feminist of us (ahem) can get carried away. After my long-term college relationship ended (hi, Mike!), I was eager to get into the dating world. I went on a bit of a trampage (sorry, Mike). I was doing a bunch of dating—and damn, I was crazy about it. Even though I was preparing to enter grad school and had a ton of shit on my plate, my dating life took precedence over everything. I remember spending hours analyzing emails from guys with my girlfriends. What did it mean that he said we were on an “upswing”? Why would he only call post-midnight (duh)? What, for the love of god, should I wear!? I got my work done, but I would have ditched it if “he” called. It was a sorry state of affairs. I later realized that if I’d spent half the energy on my career and school stuff as I did on my relationships, I’d probably be the fucking president by now. Or at least on my second book.

Imagine if, for every panic attack over a date outfit or unreturned phone call, we instead stressed about our professional accomplishments or our personal development. Sounds silly, but it could make a huge difference. In a way, rejecting normative romantic expectations—even through simple acts like these—is revolutionary.

And while I’ll probably continue to be a bit of a fool when it comes to my crushes, I won’t make the mistake of prioritizing them at the expense of, dare I say, more important pursuits.

Again, don’t get all pissy and assume I’m bashing those of you who are in love with love. I understand that feeling—believe me. But you have to admit, we’re spending a hell of a lot of time focusing on other people when we could be mixing shit up.

The romance industry is everywhere: Valentine’s Day, dating (dating shows are enough on their own), magazines telling you how to land, keep, please your man. And no doubt, a lot of this stuff is massively fun. I’ll admit it: I had a brief addiction to the reality show
Blind Date
. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not completely . . . vapid. Amazingly so, actually. Those shows play on the assumption that landing a man is all women care about. And I’d like to think that’s a bunch of hooey.

If only pop culture agreed with me. I mean, dear lord, have you seen
The Bachelor?!
To me, that reality show epitomizes the false assumption that the only thing on gals’ minds is marriage. To a rich hottie, preferably. If you haven’t seen the show, or any of its various knockoffs, here’s the quick summary: A group of young, beautiful women (like, twenty of them!) compete over one rich, hot guy. The ultimate goal is to get him to propose to you at the end of the show. Much airtime is given to showing the women fighting over the bachelor, fawning over all of the expensive dates and exotic locales, and eventually displaying their “true colors.” You know, the kind that reveals that they’re—gasp!—not just there for love.

Outside of all of the women’s gross displays of desperation, “gold-digging,” and downright nastiness to each other (which seem awfully contrived), the weirdest thing is that only the bachelor gets to do the rejecting—the assumption being that all the women involved would naturally want him; that not one of them would find him maybe a little annoying or maybe just not the guy for them. Again, forget chemistry and personality. He’s rich and cute, so all women must want him. The underlying message is that while
he
cares about “true love,” the women involved couldn’t give a shit about what really matters—they just want to get married to anyone, so long as he’s got cash and looks.

Sure, they had
The Bachelorette,
but let’s be honest—it wasn’t the same. And she wasn’t rich—just hot. The men weren’t portrayed as desperate goons catfighting for
a woman’s attention. Unlike the women on
The Bachelor,
they weren’t positioned as morally vacuous and stupid. Apparently, it’s just women’s job to be pathetic. And no matter who does the rejecting, guy or girl, it’s always the gals on the show who are reinforcing awful stereotypes about women. (And don’t tell me it’s “reality.” Please.)

Of course, this is just one example—one particular show that happens to be a pet peeve of mine. But the message is everywhere: Women want to get married (even if they have to trick someone into it); men want to avoid it and get laid as much as possible. It’s
Cosmo
versus
Playboy
. Scary. And seriously, if I see one more quiz in a magazine that tells me how to tell if he likes me, I’m going to lose it.

Seriously, though, I used to be a bit of a magazine whore, so I understand no one is going to be giving up their
Glamour
anytime soon. (Though I must admit,
Glamour
and
Marie Claire
have gotten a lot better about covering “hard” issues recently.) Just a small suggestion: Try something a little different, like
BUST
or
Bitch
or
Ms.
They’re good, I swear. And no fucking annoying quizzes.

Another peeve. If we’re going to be subject to love and romance pretty much everywhere, could it at least be an accurate representation of coupledom? ’Cause somehow, in the fantasy world presented to us—beyond the white horses and princes and happily ever after—there are no gay people. Like, at all. Yeah, sure, there are cable shows depicting homolove, but the mainstream romantic image just isn’t same-sex. And don’t say
Will & Grace;
just don’t. One show does not a
movement make. We’re making strides, that’s for sure. But until women’s mags start offering quizzes that tell you how to land your guy
or
gal, we’re still in la-la land. I think we can all recognize that.

If you’re still unconvinced that there’s an overload of (heteronormative) love in the air, just think about Valentine’s Day. ’Nuff said. Once those little cardboard hearts make their way into the drugstore windows, I start getting that sick feeling. You know, the feeling that whether you’re dating someone or not, February fourteenth is going to be one hell of an annoying day. Either you’re a pariah for not having a significant (opposite-sexed) other, or you’re subject to unrealistic romantic expectations. You know it’s true. It’s kind of like New Year’s Eve—you expect so much out of the holiday that it always turns out to be a massive disappointment. That said, I still like flowers. That’s why I’ve been known to buy myself an orchid on some V-Days. I frigging love orchids.

So, we may not be able to escape the romance industry—unless we’re willing to forever give up television, magazines,
movies, and everything else fun—but we can make decisions about how we live our dating life. And believe it or not, you can do it in a way that counteracts the annoying norm. It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it. And the truth is, doing
anything
that goes against the status quo is a step in the right direction. The most important thing? Do what feels right for you—not what everyone tells you is right.

My friends and I love to discuss the ins and outs of feminist dating etiquette. It’s not easy dating while feminist! Whether it’s deciding who pays for dinner, who calls whom, or if your love interest is just too sexist to deal with, the road to feminist love is paved with obstacles. It’s probably the case that it’s as treacherous as nonfeminist love, but at least dating while feminist allows you to end up respecting yourself
and
the possibility of hanging out with a kick-ass significant other. Seriously, the coolest guys I’ve ever dated were the ones who were feminist-friendly, or even self-identified feminists.

My sister (who, shockingly, is also a feminist) and I used to joke that the easiest way to “test” a guy for dating appropriateness was to tell him you’re a feminist right off the bat. If he makes a hairy-armpit joke, he’s out. It’s cool if he’s curious, even better if he’s impressed. The most common response we’ve gotten across the board? “But you don’t
look
like a feminist!” Silly boys.

You can also try asking a date or someone you’re interested in whom they voted for in the last presidential election.
(Remember, no dating people who voted for anti-choice folks.) I also used to love to wear a shirt that read I DON’T FUCK REPUBLICANS. That was a great weeder-outer, especially during election season. But in all seriousness, finding someone who is beyond all the bullshit is no easy task. It’s even harder finding someone who doesn’t fall for all of the feminist stereotypes. Sometimes they’ll think you’re going to be a man-hater (or that you are), that you’re too opinionated, that you talk too much. These people are to be dumped immediately. Waste no time on closet misogynists.

Then there are the folks who think the idea of dating a feminist is superneat—in the beginning. These faux feminist-lovers will rave about how great it is to date a gal with an opinion. They may even go to a feminist event with you. Several months later, they’ll tire of the novelty of dating a cool girl and will wonder aloud where their dinner is.

But be patient.

Sooner or later, you’ll find someone who gets it. And when that happens, you’ll thank me. I swear.

Okay, on to actual etiquette.

The whole “who pays?” argument is always tricky. It’s a subject that always generates craziness on Feministing. I don’t know why it’s considered so controversial, honestly. My position has always been: Whoever did the asking-out pays. And when it comes to relationships, I’ve always gone by the whoever-makes-more-money rule. Or just plain taking turns. Not so hard, right? When I was living with my college boyfriend, there were times when he was broke and I paid
the rent. Later, he had tons of money and I had none, so he would pay for everything. The idea that men should pay for women just irks me. Believe me, I like free meals—I’m Italian, after all. But expecting a guy to pay for you all the time is the equivalent of saying that you need someone to take care of you. And hopefully that’s not the case. You’re not a child. You’re not helpless. You can pay for your own meals. And even your date’s if you’re so inclined.

What also bugs me about the guy-always-paying model of dating is the expectation that you should get what you pay for. That somehow, you’ll “owe” a guy (and we all know exactly what you owe him) for taking you out. This isn’t to say that some guys aren’t just generous and nice and will expect nothing in return. And I’m also not saying that it’s not occasionally nice to have someone—guy or gal—take you out on a date on their dime. But men’s consistently paying for women sets up a power dynamic that women shouldn’t be comfortable with.

This also relates to drink-buying when you’re out. If a guy buys you a drink, all of sudden he thinks he’s bought
your time. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat and listened to some jerk ramble on just because he bought me a $5 vodka tonic. Then, of course, I finally decided that someone’s buying me a drink didn’t mean I had to hang out with him all night. I had more than one experience of getting shit for it from the buyer. “Hey, I bought you a drink; you can’t go anywhere!” Ew. I’m all for chatting up someone who was nice enough to buy me a drink. But one drink doesn’t mean I owe you my whole night. I think someone’s offering to buy you a drink can be a nice gesture, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with accepting (or telling them hells no, for that matter). But, let’s be honest, it’s kind of wack to
expect
drinks, just as it’s in poor taste to expect someone to talk to you all night because you bought one.

A random note on Ladies’ Night at bars: It’s fun to get free or discounted drinks. Ladies’ Night was my fave back in the day when I went out midweek. But, as I came to realize as I got a little older—and more sober—there is something inherently creepy about the idea of Ladies’ Night. The bars want to bring in paying guys, and they figure the best way to do that is promise them a bar full of drunk-ass girls. It just seems predatory to me. End rant.

What I love about feminists (and this isn’t me tooting our own horns, I swear) is our ability to take sexist crap and transform it into something awesome.

Take Valentine’s Day. Inspired by Eve Ensler’s award-winning play
The Vagina Monologues
and the resulting campaign to end violence against women, feminists on
college campuses across the country started V-Day. On Valentine’s Day, they perform the play, and proceeds generally go to a local organization that fights violence against women. Too cool.

And that’s just one way young women are changing this nonsense around. It gets a little harder when you start talking about the biggest romance beast of them all—weddings. Some feminists are subverting the whole wedding thing as well—planning untraditional ceremonies, keeping their last names (thank god), and asking for donations to gay-rights organizations in lieu of gifts.