Does anything ever change?

My whole life, I’ve been hearing about how much progress we’ve made, whether the question is the status of Black and Indigenous lives, women’s rights, LGBTQ+ rights, immigrants’ rights, the lives of the differently abled, etc. But when I look around, something always seems amiss. Instead of seeing progress, or anything remotely resembling equity, I see a statement meant to shut up those who dissent. In fact, I think it’s an example of what they call gaslighting.

If you engage with social media, you’ve probably come across the term “gaslighting” before. It traces its origin to a play called Gas Light (1938), written by Patrick Hamilton. In the play, a husband psychologically abuses his wife, lying to her and making little changes in their home, and convincing her that she is imagining things when she notices his changes, causing her to question her own sanity. Essentially, gaslighting is manipulating someone by dismissing their feelings and perspective, to the point where they begin to believe things that are untrue. If you take a minute to think, you might realize how common this abusive behaviour is. I think all women and all racialized people have been gaslighted, likely many times, by people close to them, by acquaintances, by strangers, and by their society. It’s not always an overt attempt to psychologically abuse someone; it can be as simple as being told flat out that you’re wrong when you discuss or react to something that happened to you.

(Source: Chump Lady)

I live near a university, and I often stumble upon flyers, stickers, and graffiti in the area complaining about misandry and false rape allegations made by women. Such language is almost always the handiwork of so-called men’s rights activists (MRAs). The existence of that term is a gaslight itself, like the reactionary slogan “All Lives Matter”; if you believe that men, who literally control the world, are being disenfranchised, then how are you to ever feel compassion for anyone whom you don’t see as being like you? The latest find in my neighbourhood was a sticker stating that 80% of all suicides are committed by men, accompanied by the phrase “Men Matter.” Let’s leave aside that statement of the obvious (“men matter”) for a moment. Yes, men in Canada commit suicide at three times the rate women do. This is a problem. But how do the MRAs propose to solve it? If you peruse anything the self-professed misandry fighters post online, you’ll usually find a white male centred narrative that is very hostile to feminism and often to women in general. There is no questioning of patriarchy; I’ve never seen that term used in the antimisandry lexicon. Conversely, hypermasculinity is encouraged. Are they promoting the idea that men open up and discuss their depression, which might lead to suicide? It certainly doesn’t seem like it. So, it is for that very reason that I question their motives when they talk about the problem of suicide.

Let’s come back to this non-argument that “men matter.” When has this notion ever been challenged? The usual arguments one hears from the antifeminists and devil’s advocate types relate to child custody cases and education. Again, these are valid problems—and again what are those who are so outraged by these injustices doing to help those affected by this? Other common arguments concern domestic abuse and rape, including false allegations of rape. Again, what is the solution, besides demonizing people? Where are the resources targeting men who are seeking to escape abusive relationships or who need help dealing with PTSD resulting from sexual assault? Once again, this would require contravening the norms of patriarchy and encouraging men to actually talk about their feelings. And what about prosecuting the women who do make false rape allegations? Isn’t there a long history of white women falsely accusing Black and other racialized men of rape? My point is that when there is actual evidence to support the claims of the “men’s rights” camp, it makes little difference, if it conflicts with the patriarchal, racist position in which so many of these antimisandry warriors seem to be placed.

Cries of injustice that aren’t accompanied by compassion seem hollow to me. So, naturally, I view the purpose of MRAs as undermining feminists and pointing fingers at them for the problems that (white) men face. It may be easy to sit online and find statements made by random people that you can call examples of misandry, but how exactly is misandry working in the power structure to oppress men? I really would like to know. You know what I think? I think MRAs have no concept of what power is and how it works. Though they may spout statistics from time to time, and argue their position vehemently, such people have no interest in facts or helping anyone. Their function is to gaslight those who are discussing the lived realities of marginalized people. I would lump them in with the same people who complain about “reverse racism” (“Foul! You’re questioning my superiority over you!”).

Recently, the Government of Canada announced that there would be a woman on the new $10 bill. After hundreds of names were proposed, the decision was made. Not only would it be a woman; she would be a Black woman: Viola Desmond. On social media, the reaction was mostly favourable, but still mixed. Many white commentators had no idea who Viola Desmond was. I read a few comments on Facebook questioning why a historical figure from Nova Scotia had been chosen instead of someone with more pan-Canadian appeal. In fact, someone said, “Why not Laura Secord?” My response to that is that this is the only woman in Canadian history that anyone in this country ever hears about; it’s time to acknowledge that other women have existed. There was also a lot of contentment, as though this was a sign that Canada was finally making progress toward ending racial and gender inequality. This is, of course, what the Trudeau government—which has no Black Cabinet ministers—would like us to think too. In truth, I was initially excited about the news. Then I thought about it some more: a well-off, light-skinned businesswoman, who fought for her own right to sit where she wanted in a movie theatre, being commemorated as though she was the only person fighting for civil rights in Canada—sounds like the ideal Liberal poster girl and nothing more. I tweeted the following:

As writer Septembre Anderson has argued both on Twitter and in an audio essay for the CBC, this is nothing more than tokenism.

And not surprisingly, Anderson was subsequently harassed, abused, and threatened online.

So, what does it mean when someone expresses a feeling or shares an experience or observation and another person shouts them down with, “But things are much better now than they were before”? Is it so beyond our comprehension that change might merit immediacy? What are we waiting for? And why should anyone be content to wait for those with the power to give them their rights or to treat them as though they are human? Moreover, if change is happening in small increments—so small that some people don’t even feel it—why would someone believe that if they’re patient enough, things will not just get “better” but be just? And what does one have to gain by trying to convince someone else that things are much better now than they were before? I can’t help but perceive that as a means of shutting up anyone who would challenge the status quo.

Christmas in November?

It was an unusually warm mid-November afternoon, and after a string of especially gruelling days of work, I decided to venture out while the sun was still shining. In November, when the sun starts setting around 4:00 PM, most of my roaming ends up happening after dark. In the bus and to the local shops I went, in search of nothing in particular but a break from my laptop. Much to my chagrin, everywhere I went, I was confronted by Christmas carols. In one store, my ears were besieged by the sound of Nat King Cole fa la la la la-ing (something I rather enjoy a little closer to December 25^th, but not at all in November) and my eyes bombarded by the sight of frantic shoppers hunting for decorative items to dress their homes for the upcoming festive season. As I moved deeper into the chaos of shopping carts darting in all directions, closer to the centrally located cash registers, I could hear the sound of that computerized voice calling out numbers in quick succession to eager consumers waiting in line for the privilege of swiping their cards. A thought popped into my head: “I hate capitalism.”

I escaped and soaked up the relative silence outside, until I entered the next shop: “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!” This time, at least, the store was rather empty and peaceful. But it dawned on me: This is only the beginning. Soon, the shopping frenzy will kick into full swing. I may have to avoid such commercial establishments from December 1^st onwards.

Finally, I knew there was no hope that this conspiracy to start the Christmas season in November was going to suck me in, when another favourite, Eartha Kitt, couldn’t put a smile on my face with her rendition of “Santa Baby.” That was it for this Grinch; I decided it was time to head home.

I find it fascinating that the winter outerwear is just emerging in clothing stores, but the Christmas music is already pumping through the sound systems of our big box stores. Granted, the pink toque I’ve conjured in my imagination is more of a vanity purchase than a necessity, as I have various other toques to keep my head warm, but said outerwear is of practical use, whereas cutesy snowmen and reindeer to decorate the home are not. But, then, utility isn’t exactly the motivation behind the corporate version of Christmas. 

All I can say is Bah humbug. 

The unshocking triumph of the Right

Like many, I’m still reeling from the result of the U.S. election. I watched with dread as the U.S. map turned mostly red. I felt an intense fear for the safety of racialized, queer, and trans Americans, given the hornet’s nest of macho, hypermasculine, white nationalism that Trump had stirred up to get votes. The reality of this outcome was overwhelming to say the least, but the outcome shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

As I’ve said before, this was the quintessential American running for the highest office of the United States of America. Of course this happened! What else would happen when capitalism is treated like a religion, with wealth worshipped, celebrity revered, inequities maintained to support the pursuit of wealth of those at the top of the pyramid, poverty reviled as a sign of laziness, and humanity dismissed as weakness? Nevertheless, as history was unfolding on Tuesday night, I chose to be in denial. My disillusionment with politics in general had led me to believe that “the system” wanted Hillary Clinton, and therefore she would be the next President of the United States, even if the election was close.

This mistake is exactly the problem. I never took Trump seriously. I thought his presence was strictly to ensure his opponent’s victory. It looked like the Democratic Party agreed, because Clinton didn’t put up a very good fight. In the debates, she stood by and made faces and she didn’t really challenge Trump on what he said. In the second debate, she even let him get away with changing the subject to ISIS when he was asked directly about sexual assault. I don’t know if she and her party were taking voters that much for granted to think that all they needed to do was say “Look at this buffoon!” and the votes would automatically go to Clinton, or if we were duped and Trump always had it in the bag. After all, he kept repeating, “The system is rigged.” The point is that this result was inevitable, and anyone who didn’t think it was at least possible is part of the problem—and that includes people like me.

The world we inhabit today is cutting us off from reality. We interact more with the Internet than our neighbours and in so doing, we control the content we see and read, and we can block or filter out dissimilar voices and create a bubble of consensus that we share with like-minded individuals. The result is that we don’t necessarily know what others are thinking, and so we have the Republicans taking the U.S. Electoral College, when all the polls projected a Democrat win. After the election, liberals and the pundits of their ilk were quick to dismiss Trump voters—the same behaviour that helped him emerge victorious. When Hillary Clinton referred to half of Trump supporters as the “basket of deplorables” she showed how arrogant and out of touch she was. Did she really believe that she could insult thousands of people and there would be no backlash? Or was she so cocky that she thought she could alienate that many people and it wouldn’t make a difference to her campaign? No one likes being spoken to condescendingly or being insulted.

Although the conditions that created this result are complex, it is undeniable that racism was the main factor in this election. Anyone who wishes to argue otherwise is blind to the white supremacy that is the foundation of all settler states including my own country. Speaking of which, those who were able to look past the racism in Trump’s campaign and still vote for him showed that racism isn’t really a problem for them. Misogyny also played a part. Men and women are not measured by the same standards, and North Americans like to judge the rest of the world while pretending things are perfectly fine here. They are not. But I’m less concerned about gender right now than I am about the failures of liberalism. By continuing to brush off Trump voters as nothing more than ignorant, crazy, racist sexists, we will continue to look like egotistical ideologues and we will fail to notice as they organize further. As I see it, this is the key difference between liberals and conservatives—the former have no plan, while the latter are increasingly mobilizing to get what they want. And if what they want isn’t what you, in the centre and on the Left, want, then wipe your tears, forget this “love trumps hate” claptrap, stop being surprised by announcements like the one that racist ideologue Stephen Bannon is on Trump’s team, and organize.

The Americans are not the first ones to elect a government that ran a campaign of negativity and fear and anger toward the “other”. So, the world is not going to end when Donald Trump takes his oath and this is not the beginning of dark days; that is a very American-centric view. And let’s be real: If the election had gone the only other conceivable way, would you really have warm, fuzzy feelings about another President Clinton? It would have been business as usual. No doubt, liberals—especially white liberals—would have heaved a sigh of relief and gone on thinking all is well. This past weekend, I saw a couple being interviewed by CBC reporter Steven D’Souza at the anti-Trump protest in New York, and when asked why they were protesting, they emphasized the rhetoric that Trump used, and the woman said that if Clinton had won, things would be better. So, basically, Trump’s language offended them. If words become the biggest issue in the eyes of dissidents, such protests are not going to achieve anything. This CBC video of D'Souza speaking to a protester in New York is far better:

Given the popularity of Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump in the party leadership races, it was clear that a large number of Americans wanted change. Clinton was the antithesis of that. So, there you go. Of course the Democrats were punished for putting Clinton forward as their candidate! Now large numbers of liberals—many of them white by the look of it—are hashtagging and marching in the streets. Where were those people when Black Lives Matter was doing the same thing? Where were they when the police were increasingly killing unarmed Black adults and children, and militarizing to keep the public in line? Where were they when the Right was targeting transgender people, fear mongering about washrooms while ignoring the rising murder rates, especially among trans people of colour? Where were they when Obama was setting a record for deportations? Bernie Sanders may have been offering something different, but he alienated many people when he and his supporters tried to tone police Black Lives Matter activists. He showed them that they could expect more white liberalism with him.

The political class is an entity unto itself. The “outsider” whom thousands of Americans are hoping will understand their struggles and “make their country great again” is a white billionaire who was born into wealth. It is entirely illogical. Anyone who argues that this man is the saviour of the proletariat is either incredibly ignorant or trying to conceal their own white nationalism. In addition to this, my takeaway from Trump’s successful entry into politics is that there is a certain kind of “outsider” that gets to infiltrate the political establishment—a billionaire. Talk about being out of touch. Why do we, in our so-called democracies, continue to be satisfied with choosing whom we perceive to be the lesser of the evils? Why do people get angry and try to shame others who choose not to vote or who vote for third-party candidates? This election, with its low voter turnout and victory for Trump, is evidence that a lot of people are dissatisfied with a system that they don’t feel exists for them.

Americans (and Canadians) need actual change. If you agree that Donald Trump shouldn’t be president, then you hopefully see that real change means the obliteration of the entire system of whiteness that is responsible for white supremacy. Anger and vitriol have become the norm in political/social discourse. It certainly helps when our mainstream media normalize racism by propagating the use of terms like “Alt Right.” I have never used this term because, to me, it legitimizes an ideology that should remain on the fringe; rather, it’s taking over. That should make you furious.

I don’t care what angry white men say; I care what they’re given licence to do. Liberals and leftists have been focusing too much on semantics and less on what they stand for. Hillary Clinton was not the answer; she was a symptom of the problem. She was doing what liberal politicians do: giving you destructive neoliberal ideology in a friendly package. Where is the outrage at the disparities in how white and racialized people have always been treated at all levels of society? Indeed, things might get worse from here on out, but if you can’t see that they were already horrible, then I don’t know what your cause is, but it doesn’t look like social justice to me. Let me give you an example. Most people, whether they’re friends with immigrants or not, are aware that a person’s educational and professional qualifications from the developing world are of no value in a country like Canada. Do you think that’s fair?

You don’t have to be openly racist to support white supremacy. If you don’t hear anyone else’s experiences and can’t see anyone else’s struggles, then you can’t care about anyone else’s struggles. If you aren’t outraged at how our countries work, maybe you’re more closely aligned with Trump’s white nationalism than you think.

Oh, Rocky!

Having been a fan of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) for more than 20 years, I was rather looking forward to watching the remake, The Rocky Horror Picture Show: Let’s Do the Time Warp Again (2016). This was especially the case when I read that Laverne Cox was playing Dr. Frank N. Furter. But I was also a little sceptical, as I’m so attached to Tim Curry’s portrayal.

Sadly, the reboot was a disappointment. While the music remains faithful to the original score, fairly successfully delivering those familiar songs, the rest kind of falls flat. The dark, campy flavour of the original film has been erased, giving the viewer a much more stylized movie that seems heavily produced. More so, the sexuality—so crucial to the original film—is largely absent from this reboot. Laverne Cox looks great, she shows that her voice has fantastic range, and she delivers humour and trademark villainous expressions, but she isn’t seductive. And to play Frank N. Furter without oozing sexuality is to miss the essence of the character.

Where is the leching at Rocky when we are first introduced to the scientist’s creation? What happened to the flirtation with Janet? Where is the brazen attraction to Brad? And what about the power Frank has over Columbia?

 

It’s all lacking in 2016 Frank N. Furter. Further, the creepy hints at incest between Riff Raff and Magenta are absent. Since Fox decided to show the film at the family-friendly hour of 8 PM when it premiered on October 20, this could reflect a directorial decision to tone it down for a younger audience. After all, even the killing of Eddie is less gory than in the original film. And the lack of sexual chemistry is not unique to Dr. Frank N. Furter. When Janet sings “Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me” to Rocky, the scene is comparatively tame as well.

It takes more than putting two attractive people in front of a camera. But this seems to have been lost on the director. Basically, none of the pairings in this film evince sexual chemistry, and without this, the remake of what is undeniably a bawdy film cannot help but fail.

Most catastrophic, in my opinion, is the crucial moment in the plot, when Frank goes to both Janet and Brad in the night, pretending to be each of them, respectively, to seduce them. 

This epitomizes the hedonistic lifestyle that Frank leads, and is punished for, and awakens the sexuality of the square protagonists. And yet, how these encounters play out doesn’t compare to the original.

The sexual acts are replaced with spanking, and while a little BDSM wouldn’t be out of place in this scenario, that isn’t what’s going on. It feels more like naughty humour than sex.

Something else that didn’t sit well with me was Laverne Cox’s performance of the song “Sweet Transvestite”. This is the song that introduces Frank N. Furter to both the viewer and Brad and Janet, but the dramatic entrance that the character makes in the original film is missing here, where Frank enters the room dancing on a platform attached to a crane. What is disconcerting about this scene is that a transgender actress is singing about being a man dressed in women’s clothes. If Laverne Cox herself sees nothing wrong with it, I’m no one to say she’s wrong. But it does seem like it could send a negative message about trans women.

This film could have been a lovely homage to the original if it had used a little creativity to modernize the costumes and setting while maintaining the edginess and lasciviousness of the original, instead of this overproduced, subdued spectacle. It’s worth a watch if you want to feel nostalgic for the original, but you won’t be doing the Time Warp again and again with this new cast.

The Goan Aunty

(Image courtesy Angela Ferrao)

Many of us are likely familiar with the videos and audio recordings that circulate from time to time of some “Goan Aunty” regaling her audience with rantings of the mundane in an exaggerated accent. Indeed, the Goan Aunty trope is so common that most of us probably have a giggle without paying much attention to the message under the surface of these silly portrayals. After all, who doesn’t enjoy hearing that characteristic “Wot, men” that signals the voice of the Goan Catholic? But recently, some videos have been making the rounds on WhatsApp that made me pay closer attention. The character, simply referring to herself on YouTube as “Goan Aunty”*, almost defies description. She is inarticulate and obnoxious. Nothing in these videos is either funny or reminiscent of the Goan women I’ve met in my life. I’m all for self-deprecating humour, and I appreciate one’s ability to laugh at oneself, but this mockery purporting to be comedy is simply insulting. Discussions of the Catholic stereotype are not new (see, e.g., Paromita Vohra’s short film Where’s Sandra), but perhaps the larger subject of the Goan Catholic woman deserves more attention.

My ire was actually ignited several months ago, when I was looking for articles about Braz and Yvonne Gonsalves. Braz is a well-respected musical legend, so one can easily find news content devoted to him. His wife Yvonne is also a brilliant performer, who continues to sing with various ensembles in Goa. I heard her live for the first time a couple of years ago in Saligao and was enchanted by the tone of her voice. But you won’t find a single article about her. Instead, what you will find are brief mentions of her as the doting wife in the articles about her husband. It was, in fact, a Goa Streets article from 2015 that incensed me. In the paragraph devoted to acknowledging the musical talents of the Gonsalves family, Yvonne is not mentioned at all. When her name does come up, it is to emphasize her support for her husband:

Braz’s wife Yvonne keeps a neat file of magazine and newspaper clippings documenting her husband’s life work. She speaks approvingly of the “hotels and night clubs (in India) that supported jazz music.”

A more recent search retrieved more of the same from an article published in The Times of India in 2011. Braz Gonsalves’ performance at Kala Academy in Panjim is described with the following passing mention of Yvonne:

Gonsalves’ wife Yvonne didn’t let a fracture [an audience member heckling Louiz Banks] dampen the spirit. She walked with support and belted out a jazz gospel hit, before the musicians took over with ‘Culture Shock’, ‘Sweet Shakti’ and ‘Enchantment’. (Emphasis mine)

These descriptions of Yvonne Gonsalves as the devoted wife, disregarding her status as an accomplished musician, exemplify what Fátima da Silva Gracias wrote in the Introduction to her book, The Many Faces of Sundorem (2007): “Generally, whenever women are mentioned in the Indo-Portuguese Historical literature it is usually in the traditional and subordinate role of a daughter, wife, mother, mistress or dancer.” She was referring to the past, but what has changed in recent times? 

(Lorna performing in Bombay in 2013: Photo mine)

How many times have you heard a Goan man talk about the legendary Lorna Cordeiro and say, “She would have been nothing without Chris Perry”?

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve heard this, and it has come from both diehard Lorna fans and guys who aren’t that into Konkani music. So, even some who hold the Goan Nightingale in high esteem can’t find it within themselves to simply acknowledge her talent. They must give Perry—a man—not just credit for discovering her and helping her find her musical niche but all the credit for who she became.

But interestingly, I hear very few people reflect on Lorna in her younger days.

The one exception that comes to mind is in Jason Keith Fernandes’ review of the film Nachom ia Kumpasar (2015), where he describes Lorna as follows:

Lorna is an icon of Goan culture not merely for the songs she gave, and continues to give, life to, but for the kind of sexuality that she embodies. Her voice does not contain the sickly saccharine and shrill sweetness that marks so much of Hindi film music and embodies virginal, self-effacing purity. Her voice is an earthy one that can roar if there be need for it. The woman that her voice gives life to is conscious of her sexuality and vocal about her desires.

By contrast, the discussions to which I am accustomed to hearing about Lorna the woman tend to focus on her alleged drinking and her appearance today. As for the former, for the sake of argument, if one wishes to credit Chris Perry for everything else related to Lorna, why not also for breaking her heart? After all, substance use (and abuse) is often used as a means for coping with pain. As for the comments one hears regarding her physical appearance, it is as if she deserves to be punished for aging.

  (No matter her age, Lorna’s still got it! Photo mine)

This ridicule of the aging Goan woman brings us back to the image of the Goan Aunty. You know her: She’s the one with the enormous boobs and bum, who nags and talks any rubbish in her quaint, provincial accent, often uttered in a shrill voice.

YouTube sensation Aunty Maggy offers an example of this, complete with padding to amplify her breasts, stomach, hips, and rear, and a somewhat discordant voice.

Significantly, when I decided to write this piece, I typed “Goan Aunty” into Google’s search field, and was shocked to see that most of what the search engine retrieved were links to what appeared to be pornography. A similar search on YouTube generated the same results. From this, I can only assume that when the Goan Aunty isn’t being derided, she’s being fetishized.

On that note, why is it that Mario Miranda’s cartoons have mostly escaped criticism for their depiction of women?

While I’m a fan of his work, some of it makes me uncomfortable. He undeniably started a trend among Goan artists of exaggerating the assets of the Goan woman to sexualize the young and poke fun at the old. One piece that I find particularly disturbing is Cool Jazz, where the bass player is groping the singer with his right hand, instead of plucking the strings of his bass, and the saxophone player is blowing up her skirt.

In addition to depicting this woman’s sexual assault, it reinforces the aforementioned examples of the woman being placed in a subordinate position to the man. Mario Miranda certainly devoted space to both men and women in his art. But similar to a surface-level viewing of the Goan Aunty parodies, when one probes a little deeper into Cool Jazz specifically, the question arises as to what exactly is going on. A band is a collective of artists who play, and sometimes also write, music together. They’re colleagues and collaborators. So, to see the singer—the individual fronting the band—objectified by her own band-mates is shocking. What is a musical group without a good singer? So, one expects the musicians to have some respect for their singer. This image, however, shows utter disrespect for the only woman in the illustration.

I see a similar lack of respect for women in the trope of the Goan Aunty. When I think of a Goan aunty, I picture a proud, well-turned out lady in her dress at church. I picture an assertive woman who confidently shares her opinions in mixed-gender conversations. I picture a woman who likes to sing and dance and enjoy life.

(Still from Nachom-ia Kumpasar)

(Image courtesy Angela Ferrao)

I picture the woman who taught me to cook dishes like pulao and pork vindalho, passing on the tradition of delighting the family’s senses with lovingly prepared food.

The Goan woman is more than a caricature. It’s time she got her due.

________
* The "Goan Aunty" on YouTube now goes by the name Succorine Bai.

(Revised versions of this piece have appeared in The Goan Review, vol. 28, no. 1 [Jan–Mar 2017] and The Joao Roque Literary Journal, vol. 1, no. 2 [https://selma-carvalho.squarespace.com/the-goan-aunty-by-christine-russon])

Masculinity revisited

Some of you may recall my previous piece asking who gets to define masculinity, in which I argued that men who do not necessarily live up to Western standards of macho-ness are just as “manly” and physically attractive as their more conventionally masculine counterparts. As someone who opposes patriarchy, I find the rigid standards it imposes on all of us abhorrent, but for now, I want to discuss a particular way in which this system harms cisgender men. It is because of patriarchy that men are taught that they shouldn’t express emotion, that they should be hypersexual beings who objectify others, that they should dominate others, that they should assert their physical strength rather than their strength of character… and the list can go on forever.

But the horrific definition of manliness that patriarchy imposes goes much deeper. It seems to me that patriarchy upholds white masculinity as an ideal. That is one reason why, for example, Black and Latino men are fetishized, and Asian men are regarded as androgynous or asexual.

Consider the character of Raj Koothrappali on The Big Bang Theory.

Kunal Nayyar is, in my opinion, the best looking actor on the show—I’d go so far as to argue that he is the only attractive actor on the show—but his character has consistently been stereotyped and desexualized. For several seasons, he was incapable of speaking if a woman was even in the room, unless he consumed alcohol. 

In addition, there have been homophobic jokes throughout the series about his close friendship with Howard Wolowitz and his comfort with his female friends.

After Raj finally got a girlfriend, Emily, I have very few recollections of them being shown together in an affectionate or sexual manner. What I do remember are the following two instances of Raj being shown in a post-coital scenario: (a) when he wakes up next to an obese woman after a drunken night and (b) when he wakes up next to Penny, again after a night of heavy drinking, and he admits that they didn’t have sex because he ejaculated prematurely.

Anyone who has watched the show over the years might recall that many female characters have said that they find Raj physically attractive, including Howard’s wife Bernadette; yet the message from the writers contradicts this. Basically, more than making Raj an asexual character, the writers seem to have gone out of their way to mock any insinuation that Raj might be a virile heterosexual man. Meanwhile, Leonard and Howard have consistently been shown in the opposite light—often being depicted as oversexed. As the writers of the show are overwhelmingly male, one cannot argue that it is women imposing such ideas about masculinity on men; it is a patriarchal mindset that first and foremost influences how men view masculinity.

Sticking with the sitcom theme, consider the short-lived series Selfie.

This show was entertaining, and it was an important series because it featured an Asian actor as the romantic lead—something that remains unfamiliar on American TV. John Cho, known primarily for his roles in the Harold and Kumar movies and the contemporary Star Trek films, played a charismatic, successful marketing executive.

While the show seemed to have a following on social media, ABC chose to cancel it after 13 episodes. The show was very modern, as the title suggests, the writing was good, the acting was good; so what was the problem? There was even a petition to rescue the show. Sadly, Selfie’s fans had to let go before Henry and Eliza could officially get together.

So, once again, I question what this culture values in men. In my previous post, I had said that I’d never questioned Prince’s masculinity. He was certainly a pretty man, his mannerisms were perhaps not what one usually expects of a straight, cisgender male, and his art definitely suggested that he was sensitive.

Nevertheless, his testosterone and sexual attraction to women were palpable, no matter how he looked or what he was doing. It is common to hear that he “transcended gender”. He himself professed something similar to this in the song “I Would Die 4 U”: I’m not a woman; I’m not a man; I’m something that you’ll never understand. But what does it really mean to transcend gender? In my mind, this would imply truly embodying both femininity and masculinity, to the point where people don’t want to label you male or female but accept that you are something else that encompasses both or that so defies what we think about gender norms that it seems like neither. Where Prince was concerned, there was absolute consensus that he was a man. Reinforcing his identity as a heterosexual male, his desire for women was central to his music and stage performances. Here, his sensitivity was also apparent, as even when he sang about sex, he did not objectify women. 

The song “Gett Off” immediately comes to mind. In addition to highlighting consent and body positivity, it focuses on mutual pleasure. Indeed, Prince does not merely express a desire to get off but to get someone else off as well. The song is, thus, both literally and figuratively music to a woman’s ears. This message is diametrically opposed to the patriarchal idea of focusing on catering solely to the penis.

In my opinion, his gender bending was part of his identity performance. There was something far more political going on: Prince was challenging what we think a man is supposed to be—and, importantly, he was doing it as a Black man. This is something that seems to get overlooked in much of the discussion surrounding Prince’s persona, despite the fact that his activism is well-documented. Thus, to focus solely on his defiance of gender norms would do him, and us, a great disservice. When he adopted the unpronounceable “love symbol” as his name in the 1990s, it was an act of protest against his record label.

Warner Bros owned his name, so he changed it in a defiant assertion of his autonomy in an industry that loves to make money off of art created by Black people without actually valuing their blackness (and many of the consumers of said art feel much the same way). 

He would even appear on stage with the word “slave” written on his face to reinforce the constraints imposed on him and lack of respect from his record label.

Therefore, it would be wrong to focus solely on the gender neutrality of this symbol, which he abandoned as soon as his contract was up in 2000, and overlook all that he stood for—this proudly Black, unapologetically sexual, political, and beautiful man. 

Although we must always be careful not to idolize our stars too much, for what they choose to show us is marketed for us so we keep their career afloat, Prince was different from most of the capitalists working in his field because he challenged several dominant, oppressive systems.

Every achievement of anyone who doesn’t fit into the so-called mainstream is a revolutionary act. As part of the fight against patriarchy, let us be aware of, and denounce, insidious Eurocentric notions of beauty and gender that tell racialized people they are inferior.