Sister

Sister

This book- David Deida’s The Way of the Superior Man- is a decent read, although I must confess that, like practically everything else I pick up, I rarely go cover to cover. What can I say- i get bored easily…or distracted? But Deida does have some keen insights into what being a man is all about, even though almost every cell in my brain resists the entire notion that being a man is any one thing in particular. BEING A MAN. Three words that have always struck fear in my heart and at an intellectual level seemed oppressive or even cruel and moronic. I mean, a quick glance at history (and present times) would hopefully rid one of the notion that being a man is anything at all worth doing/being, given what men and mankind has done to each other, to women and to the planet at large.

For my part, as a teenage man-hater, I liked to say that I subscribed to the David Bowie/Ziggy Stardust school of androgyny. “Sure, we may have different plumbing,” I would say, “but at the end of the day we’re all the same inside.” Sadly, as I approached my mid to late twenties and could begin to look back far enough to see the wake of tendencies and predilections that framed my existence, I was forced to come to terms with the fact that, yes, much to my chagrin there is something to the notion of manhood or- perhaps better put- masculinity. I struggled with fitting myself into my big boy pants, as it were, even as I took up residency at a progressive college inclined towards all things feminist and anti-patriarchal. Deconstructionism was the name of the game and if you were straight, white and male, you essentially were the bane of everyone’s existence and the cause of all suffering on Earth. As a self-identified ecofeminist, I swallowed this propaganda hook, line and sinker (and in many ways still do), until one day getting out of the shower and viewing myself naked in the mirror, it occurred to me that, as a straight white man, I was everything I had been schooled to hate- penis, balls, hairy chest and all. And what kind of life would it mean for me if I continued with that particular rhetoric and sociopolitical analysis without somehow asking the question of whether or not there was anything fundamentally good about being male? There must be something worthwhile within me, I despaired, clinging to my only claim to the heavily contested and covetous Oppressed/Victim pie that was central to one’s identity in ecofeminist and First People’s pedagogy- my cherished status as a handicapped person. Whew! <wipes sweaty brow> Thank god I was able to elude the Robespierresque liberal arts witch hunt of straight white men (SWM) by playing the cripple card. Lucky narcoleptic me!

<Please pause for nap. Return in 5 mins.>

SISTER by The Supreme Suck

SISTER

Pack your bags, shape your dreams/ you’ve discovered it’s not as it seems

Feel sun rise, wind on your face/ remember those words he forced you to taste

And sister, don’t regret it, just formulate a plan/ and sister, don’t forget it-

Your path was not meant  to give birth to the worth of a man

Hand to mouth you’ve lived for years/ embracing sorrow and million tears

You’ve tried your best, those vows to save/ a cook, a maid, a whore, a slave

And sister, don’t regret it, just formulate a plan/ and sister, don’t forget it-

Your path was not meant  to give birth to the worth of a man

From girl to now you’ve battled him/ a land of lords and lover’s whim

Always under, you never stood/ it’s time to leave that lay for good

And sister, don’t regret it, just formulate a plan/ and sister, don’t forget it-

Your path was not meant  to give birth to the worth of a man

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