There is something objectionable about a perfectly-capable-of-working adult being ‘kept’ by another adult. It seems to me the epitome of laziness and immaturity to be supported by someone else, to have someone else pay your way through life.
But, I suppose, if someone wants to pay someone else’s way, if a man wants to ‘keep’ a woman (or vice versa), and that woman (or man) wants to be ‘kept’, I suppose that’s no business of mine.
But then why should I subsidize their keep? What has your wife (or husband) ever done for me? And yet I must subsidize her discounted income tax. Her discounted car insurance. Her discounted health insurance. Her discounted life insurance. Her discounted university tuition. Her discounted club membership. Hell, even her discounted airline ticket.
If he wants to pay her way, fine, but her way should cost the same as mine. Why is her way discounted just because she’s not paying it herself? Why do we roll out the red carpet for kept women?
Even if she is paying her own way, why should she have to pay less than me just because she’s married? Why should spouses get a discounted rate on all those things?
In particular, access to company benefits irks me: you don’t even work here, why should you be covered?
Two married adults should pay the same as two single adults. End of story.
1. To the extent that a transsexual is someone who experiences body dysphoria, someone who feels they’re in the ‘wrong’ body, someone who feels their body is the ‘wrong’ sex — how do they know? What is it like to feel female (or male)? I was born female, and I don’t know. So how can they know? It’s Nagel’s ‘What is it like to be a bat?’ problem. (1) I know what it is to feel healthy only because I have also been sick. I don’t know what it is to feel female because I haven’t been male. Anything that I feel that I can know for sure is due to being female, rather than due to simply being human, is related to having a uterus (which can ache and hurt during menstruation) and breasts (which can feel heavy).
Other things subjectively felt are certainly due to my body — to its levels of estrogen and progesterone, for example, but also to its levels of dopamine and vasopressin, for example. But given the overlapping range of levels of these biochemicals in males and females (many of which are not differentiated for males and females), again, how can one say ‘I feel this—becauseI’m female’?
If transsexuals feel like their exterior doesn’t match their interior, why do they (also) get hormone treatment—which will change their interior (as well as their exterior)? Doing that suggests they want to change their sex, not that they were born with the wrong sex. Even if sex is brain-based, and they feel like they have a female brain in a male body — it’s the brain that produces hormones. So if they do have a female brain, it would be producing estrogen, and there would be no need for hormone treatments.
I’m not saying body dysphoria isn’t ‘real’. In fact, I experience every day the mismatch between what’s inside and what’s outside: I look like a middle-aged woman, but I don’t feel like a middle-aged woman. Then again, I do. I must. This must be what a middle-aged woman can feel like. (Similarly, if you’re in a male body, what you feel must be male. Maybe it’s not the male you see on billboards and television, but it is male nevertheless.) (Welcome to our world.) When I say I don’t feel like a middle-aged woman, I’m using my personal and thus limited experience (my interaction with other middle-aged women) and I’m using stereotypes, pushed at me primarily by profit-seeking marketing departments.
But even so, in this case, I can know that my interior doesn’t match my exterior: at forty, for example, I know what I felt at twenty, so when I say I still feel twenty, I know what I’m talking about. I could mean, for example, that my skin feels the same, even though when I look in the mirror, I see that it’s lost its elasticity. Usually, though, I mean something like I still feel energetic and impassioned, not bland and resigned. But this takes us back to my point about referencing limited experience and stereotypes.
What we need are thorough and carefully conducted studies of MTFs and FTMs. Only they know what it felt like when they were male or female and what it feels like after they add or subtract certain body parts. (To the extent that those parts aren’t connected to the whole in the same way, though, any change in subjective experience won’t be very useful.)
More importantly, only they know what it felt like when they were, for example, flooded with testosterone and what it feels like to be flooded with estrogen. Sadly, those studies aren’t being done, as far as I can tell (which may mean they’re just not being publicized). And even if they were, their reliability would be compromised by the nature of subjective report and a self-selected sample, both of which are likely to be further confounded by the subject’s conflation of sex and gender.
2. To the extent that a transgendered person is someone who adopts the gender that is traditionally aligned with the other sex, there are several problems.
If gender is socially constructed, then it’s not dependent on sex—so one need not change one’s sex in order to change one’s gender. In fact, transgendered people don’t even need their own label. Every woman who refuses to wear make-up and shave her legs is as much a transgendered person as the man who insists on wearing make-up and shaving his legs. (Assuming that not wearing make-up is not just not-feminine, but is masculine. If it’s just not-feminine, then perhaps it’s more accurate to call such a woman non-gendered. So would a woman who wears pants instead of a dress be transgendered? Still no. It turns out that aspects of appearance commonly associated with men are more acceptable for women than vice versa. Perhaps that’s why there are more men than women seeking to cross the gender divide. Women already can, at least on superficial matters.)
And if it isn’t socially constructed—that is, if is dependent on sex, how do we explain effeminate men and ‘tomboys’? How is it that many males use their voice and their hands in a very expressive fashion? How is it that many females are strong and aggressive?
3. Are MTFs female? The answer to this question requires an informed understanding of biology, chemistry, and biochemistry that I don’t have. It also requires a definition: how much of how many (and which) primary and secondary sexual characteristics is required to be a member of that sex category? Is a female who has undergone a hysterectomy and a bilateral mastectomy still female? Is a post-menopausal and thus low-estrogen female still female?
4. Are MTFs women? To the extent that being a woman is a matter of gender rather than sex, maybe. Again, we need a definition: which, how many, how much… And does a woman need to be a female?
Of course it is possible, by observation and comparison, to identify what it’s like to be treated as a female/woman. I was born female, raised as a girl, and all of my adult life, treated, by most people most of the time, as a woman. And what does that feel like? It feels like shit. To be patronized, marginalized, objectified…
So perhaps a more useful question is ‘Should MTFs be treated as women?’ Should we pay them less for work of equal value? Should we mock or at least ignore their contributions to society? If we want consistency, yes. If we want justice, no.
On that note, it needs to be said (apparently) that how you’re treated affects the person you become. Kick a dog often enough, and it becomes a cowering, fearful mess. The same is true for humans: ignore a person often enough, and she stops speaking up; make her feel like all of her value is in her body, and she obsesses over it; and so on (and so on, and so on). There is a difference between being a FAAB (female assigned at birth) and being an MTF: a lifetime lived in a female body. That difference is not inconsequential. To understate. And if MTFs had any understanding at all of sexism, they’d know this. (But perhaps they’ve been too busy dealing with their dysphoria.) (Or they’ve just been, well, men.)
So answering the question of whether MTFs are women is a no-brainer for the people who’ve been women all their lives. MTFs make demands, not polite requests. (2) They are quick to resort to insult, threat, aggression. They compete. They dominate. They convey a sense of entitlement none of us has ever had. They don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. They scream “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO KEEP US OUT WE HAVE A FUCKING RIGHT TO BE HERE TO GO WHEREVER THE FUCK WE WANT!”—a response to exclusion from FAAB spaces that is “right up there, ideologically, with demanding that girls and women be sexually available visually and physically, for and with men” (Julian Real, http://radicalprofeminist.blogspot.ca/2011/02/who-gets-to-define-women-only-space.html). (3, 4) In short, it quacks like a duck.
In any case, perhaps the most important question is ‘Why does it matter?’ —whether one is male or female, a man or a woman? It matters only to those who want to maintain a rigid sex/gender dichotomy. And why would someone want to do that? To support a sexist system/society.
So, I say to MTFs, who are apparently among those who want to maintain such a system/society, if you want to be considered a woman, act like one. Sit down and shut up. Understand that your opinion doesn’t count. Be sensitive to everyone else’s feelings, respect them, accommodate them. Don’t assume you know more than anyone else. In particular, don’t assume you know more about sex and gender than second-generation feminists and radfems; they are Ph.D.s (in fact, many of them have Ph.D.s) when it comes to sex and gender, and no man of any kind comes close to their level of understanding: “They lost many of [their] privileges when they started identifying as women, but rather than recognising that this is because of sexism, they decided it was because they are trans. Why? Because, being male, they knew fuck all about sexism” (thebeardedlady, Nov17/09 at https://factcheckme.wordpress.com/2009/11/16/the-fallacy-of-cis-privilege/).
It is no surprise to me that twice as many MTFs as FTMs commit suicide. I haven’t read many accounts of their transition, but in most of those I have read, I see a shocking naiveté with regard to sexism, gender politics, etc. It is as if these people had no idea that they were voluntarily becoming a member of the sexed subordinate class. So no wonder, on top of everything else, they can’t handle, are broadsided by, the sudden and almost complete disenfranchisement …
(So as for the dysphoria, like the person who rejects their leg because it doesn’t feel right, because it doesn’t feel like it’s theirs, isn’t it better to deal with the dysphoria than to go through life as an amputee?) (Because yes, being a woman in the patriarchy is, in many ways, like being an amputee. We are crippled. We are, relative to men, dis-abled.)
Okay, so I went to bored.com, clicked on Games, then clicked on Girls.
Mostly because I was irritated that there even was a separate section for Girls (and surprised there wasn’t a separate section for Blacks)—alongside Popular, Animations, Stickman, Shooting, Escape, Puzzle, Action, Skill, Walkthru’s, Mobile, and More. Why do girls need a separate section? Are they not interested in any of the other sections? Are none of the other sections ‘for’ them?
Anyway, so what do I find when I click on the Girls tab? This:
Sugar and Spice and everything Girl! Play celebrity, dress-up, cooking, sports, and puzzle games designed just for little ladies young and old alike! Like to run restaurants? Become a princess? Go on a hot date with the boy of your dreams? It’s all here!
Seriously? In 2012?
I’m a girl, or at least female-bodied, and I have to say I’m very interested in Action. Specifically, Shooting. Failing that, Escape.
So I was browsing the movie collection at my online DVD rental site and feeling so very tired and bored with movies by men, about men, for men. My request list had dwindled to almost zero, and I wasn’t finding anything I was interested in. So I decided to check out the “Alternative” section for at least an off-beat movie (by men, about men, for men) and WOH. There they were! The movies by women. About women. For women. Lots and lots of movies with women front and center. Strong, interesting women.
So I’m thinking, what a labeling mistake. Why don’t they just call the mainstream ‘male’ and the alternative/indie ‘female’. (Oh. Right.)
Looking back at the last fifty years, we see protests against deception and injustice: the anti-war movement, the civil rights movement, feminism, the gay rights movement, environmentalism, the animal rights movement, the Occupy movement.
What’s left? What should be the current generation’s crusade? Big Business. Big Oil, Big Ag, Big Pharma, Big Media.
“In 2011, a think tank in London called the Carbon Tracker Initiative conducted a breakthrough study that added together the reserves claimed by all the fossil fuel companies, private and state-owned. It found that the oil, gas, and coal to which these players had already laid claim—deposits they have on their books and which were already making money for shareholders—represented 2,795 gigatons of carbon. … [W]e know roughly how much carbon can be burned between now and 2050 and still leave us a solid chance (roughly 80%) of keeping warming below 2 degrees Celsius … 565 gigatons. … [A]s Bill McKibben [author of Oil and Honey] points out, ‘The thing to notice is, 2,795 is five times 565. It’s not even close. … What those numbers mean is quite simple. This industry has announced, in filings to the SEC and in promises to shareholders, that they’re determined to burn five times more fossil fuel than the planet’s atmosphere can begin to absorb.’ … In other words, the fossil fuel companies have every intention of pushing the planet beyond the boiling point” (Naomi Klein, This Changes Everything 148, 353-4).
And BigAg? “Billions of people on the planet are supported by farmers who save seeds from the crops and replant these seeds the following year. Seeds are planted. The crop is harvested. And the seeds from the harvest are replanted the following year. Most farmers cannot afford to buy new seeds every year, so collecting and replanting seeds is a crucial part of the agricultural cycle. This is the way food has been grown successfully for thousands of years. With Monsanto’s terminator technology, they will sell seeds to farmers to plant crops. But these seeds have been genetically-engineered so that when the crops are harvested, all new seeds from these crops are sterile (e.g., dead, unusable). This forces farmers to pay Monsanto every year for new seeds if they want to grow their crops.” (Ethical Investing: Monsanto Terminator Technology http://www.ethicalinvesting.com/monsanto/terminator.shtml
Big Pharma? The average price of the fifty drugs most used by senior citizens was nearly $1,500 for a year’s supply. In 2002. And now they’re creating the disease so they can sell the cure. Halitosis was just the beginning. Now we’ve got erectile dysfunction, female sexual dysfunction, bipolar disorder, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), restless legs syndrome, osteoporosis, social shyness (also called social anxiety disorder and social phobia), irritable bowel syndrome, and balding. We’re all sick. We all need drugs. (Larry Dossey, “Creating Disease” The Huffington Post Jun18/10 http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-larry-dossey/big-pharma-health-care-cr_b_613311.html)
But this kind of information isn’t screamed in the news because—BigMedia. A mere six corporations own 90% of the median in the States.
So this is my call to this generation: protest against the veneer of respectability that has enabled ‘business’ to proceed ‘as usual’–unchallenged. Question progress. Question profit. Question the right of way that’s been given to business merely because it wears a suit and tie and provides jobs. (Like ‘I’ve got a family,’ ‘I’ve got a business to run’ is used as an all-purpose legitimizing excuse. Youcan get away with anything ifyou’re doing it for your kids. Ditto if you’ve got a business to run. As if merely by employing several people, business becomes some sort of social service. It’s not.
You’ve got fifty years to learn from. The greater one’s youthful idealism, the greater one’s middle-aged bitterness. So, yes, many of us over forty are worse than useless: we are infectious with cynicism. But we were once young. Study what we did and what we didn’t do. Figure out what worked and what didn’t work–then. Figure out what’ll work and what won’t work—now. Take a good look at Kent State, Birmingham, Greenham Common, Tiananmen Square, Seattle… It’s not as easy anymore (if it ever was) as offering a flower or sitting in the way. They will shoot you. They will run over you. And you can’t depend on media coverage–your local station is owned by some fat cat in LA or NY who doesn’t want the world to know. DIY. Use the internet. Figure it out.
As is the case with movements, little bits here and there gradually add up to something that makes the structure collapse and the veil of naïveté dissipate. Utopia doesn’t rise from the rubble, but we never see things in quite the same way again.
A special note to those in business—with great power comes great responsibility. You’re in the driver’s seat. Get us out of here. Use your intelligence, use your imagination. Find a way. Change the way we do business. And save your world.
[a little old…guess who finally got to be Chief of Surgery!]
Why didn’t Bailey get the Chief of Surgery position?
For the same reason Ed jokingly says to Greg, when he questions his rank, “Should I get you a dress?”—and they both laugh.
Because in 2012 being a woman is (still) (STILL!) (STILL!) (STILL!) being subordinate.
I love that on Grey’s Anatomy, so many main characters, surgeons every one of them – are women. Actually they outnumber the men. 8:6. And yet Owen gets the Chief position. Richard, then Derek, then Owen. 3 of the 6 men get to be Chief. 0 of the 8 women. Bailey’s been there longer than Owen. And longer than Sloan, the other contender. And yeah, okay, Kepner got the Chief Resident position even though she was there longer than Karev, but he didn’t want it. (And we see it primarily a position of responsibility, not power.) At one point, the Chief (Webber) said he was grooming Bailey for Chief of Surgery—what happened?
And Sam gets to be team leader in Ed’s absence. Not Jules. Again, she has more seniority on the team. And is just as competent (if not more so—she can shoot and she can negotiate a crisis).
This is why I stick to my Cagney and Lacey, Murphy Brown, and Commander-in-Chief reruns.
(We’re going in the wrong direction, people.) (And just when did we turn around?)
I live in a cabin on a lake in the forest. You’d think that whenever the power goes out, there would be silence. Lovely silence. And lovely dark. And there is. For all of thirty seconds. Then everyone’s backup generator goes on. And for the next five, ten, twenty, or forty-eight hours, I hear engine noise. Constant engine noise. Like a tractor trailer is parked in my driveway. Idling. Loudly.
Because my god but the world would end if people had to go without TV for five hours! Or without whatever the hell it is they need their generators for.
Two hours in, and they’re driving into town. Because ‘What about supper?’ What? Food is that foremost on your mind? You’re not in Ethiopia. You just ate a couple hours ago. And if you’re really that hungry, don’t you have anything in the house that can be eaten raw, out of the box, or out of the can?
Perhaps they can’t stand the silence. No, that can’t be right, because everyone’s generators are on.
Is it that they can’t stand the severance from—what, exactly? Civilization? Please. Most people here couldn’t care less about their neighbours. When I asked one to join a sort of neighbourhood watch so we could call the fire department whenever, during a total fire ban, some asshole one had a huge, blazing campfire, as was his habit, she refused. Didn’t want to stick her neck out.
Quite apart from the fact that a power outage doesn’t sever you from civilization. Can’t you hear everyone’s generators? Everyone’s still here.
Is it that people are so fearful they need the illusion of safety that noise and light provide? Hm. Now I understand why people have their TV on all day even though they aren’t watching it. And it suddenly occurs to me that most of the people who live here never leave their houses, except to get into their car and go somewhere. I never see them out for a walk, on the road, or in the forest. I never see them down at the water, let alone out on the lake.
Or perhaps it’s just that there’s nothing going on inside their little heads, so they need the external stimulation to keep them from utter boredom.
Far more than pathetic, it’s scary. That people are so dependent on that kind of (external) energy.
Catherine, by Chris Wind (from Snow White Gets Her Say) www.chriswind.net
That you don’t recognize me by name is but the first of my complaints about my tale. Oh you know me alright. I’m the main character—in a tale titled with the name of one of the men in the story. But what’s in a name? A lot. Especially if it’s a man’s name. This man’s name is the answer to the question upon which rests the fate of myself and my newborn child. So his name is very powerful, it is very important. My name apparently is not.
Nor is my life. For whether it is to be filled with joy and delight from being with my newborn, or empty with grief and loss from separation is to be decided by a mere guessing game.
Nor are my words important. I denied my father’s boast. I told the King I most definitely could not spin gold out of straw. But he didn’t believe me. Of course not. He chose instead to believe the words of an immature, egotistic, vain man. And I suffer the consequences.
The consequences. To pay for my father’s ridiculous lie, I lose my sanity, my freedom, and my dignity for three nights—and almost my child, forever. (And one sentence—one sentence in the whole tale is devoted to that ‘choice’, that decision to give up my child in return for my life.)
Because I ‘succeeded’ on the third night, I was ‘rewarded’ with marriage to the King. Thus, for all intents and purposes, I also lost my life. Can you imagine what it is like to be married—legally bound to honour and obey until death, and socioeconomically bound with little option but to stay and make the best of it—to a man who didn’t believe me, a man who locked me in a room for three nights, a man so greedy that he said three nights in a row he’d kill me unless I did as he wanted? And that was before he owned me.
But as the tale says, I am shrewd and clever. And I have learned the force of threat, and the importance of a name—especially if it is male. Proud fathers want very much to pass it on. But royal fathers—dear husband, aging Highness, what would happen to your precious lineage if my, your, only son were to suddenly—
Since I am not dead, and am living still…
**
Catherine is the name I’ve given to the woman in “Rumpelstiltskin”. One day a vain and proud miller boasted about his beautiful and clever daughter to the king, telling him that she could spin gold out of straw. The poor maiden denied it, but the king locked her in a room full of straw and insisted that she spin it into gold or else she’d lose her life.
Once in the room, she began to cry; then “a droll-looking little man” appeared and, after hearing her story, offered to do it for her if she’d give him her necklace. When the king returned and saw that the straw had indeed been spun into gold, he locked up the maiden with another roomful of straw. This time she paid the little man with her ring. The third time, the king added the promise of marriage if she succeeded, but she had nothing left with which to pay the little man. He asked for her first child, and having no other option, fearing death if the king returned to find straw and not gold, she agreed.
So she was married to the king, and when her first child was born, the little man came to collect. Appalled, she offered him instead “all the treasures of the Kingdom”—but he wanted the child. Eventually he softened his terms and said that if within three days she could tell him his name, she could keep the child.
For the next two days, she guessed all the names she knew and sent messengers all over the land to gather new ones. Finally, on the third day, a messenger returned with the name ‘Rumpelstiltskin’—which was indeed the little man’s name. She was therefore able to keep her child, and everyone laughed at the little man, Rumpelstiltskin, as he made his way away.
So about this guy in Taiwan who drops his child in order to catch a foul ball at a baseball game…
I don’t know whether to be more appalled at the man’s action or at the media’s framing of it.
Am I appalled that we condition our males to value sports over parenting? That they’d rather catch a ball than take care of a child? No. I myself would rather catch a ball than look after a kid. Which is why I didn’t make or adopt any. The appalling thing is that a father would rather catch a ball than take care of his child.
(Yes, of course, it would be as appalling if it were a mother. But I can’t resist suggesting that if it had been a woman who had dropped her child in order to catch a ball, they’d be hauling her ass into court, taking her kid away, and sterilizing her.)
Why do sports have such a hold over men? Is it the competition and the possibility of winning? And is that so bloody attractive because that’s the way we raise our boys? Or is it simply because they’re hardwired to compete? Either way, if their upbringing or their testosterone (or whatever) makes them choose catching a ball over holding on to a child, something’s seriously wrong.
Or is our obsession with sports an indication that we are so very desperate to be heroic? Have our daily lives become so bereft of significance? (And why is that?) And has the mere catching of a ball become a heroic act? What does that say about us?
Or is it just that men will reach out to catch a ball, even if it means putting a child at risk, because like many animals, their attention is captured by anything that moves. Which is a good thing if you’re a Neanderthal hunting for your next meal, but—we’re not. Neanderthals hunting for our next meal. So does this mean that contemporary men are unable to suppress their primitive brain? If so, we shouldn’t let them—run the world, for starters.
Men, if this (dropping a child in order to catch a ball) isn’t a wake up call to question and reject your conditioning and/or to recognize and resist your biochemistry, what is??
And then there is the commentators’ response. Laughter, first of all. A child is dropped, and they laugh.
And they laugh in a “boys will be boys” way. Men, don’t you find it insulting? To have your irresponsible, immature behavior accepted as inevitable?
Or they laugh because, hey, just goes to show that men aren’t cut out to look after kids; best leave it to the women. Oh please. (Like they can never seem to do a good job of cleaning the house either. And yet the car gleams.)
Then there are the giggling comments about his wife’s “death stare” and how he’s gonna get it now. What is he, twelve? Apparently. And what’s his wife, his mom? Apparently he needs one. Still. (If I were a man, I’d be enraged at this implication that I am to be scolded.)
And then, there are the endless snickers about how “he’s going to be in the dog house” or “sleeping on the couch”. A child is dropped, and the big concern is that he won’t have sex for a while. What is wrong with you people?? (And that whole marital dynamic—if he’s good, he gets sex; if he’s bad, he doesn’t—that’s okay with all of you?)
Where are the men who are wincing at all of this? Where are the men who would confront this guy and tell him to grow the fuck up?
Truthfully, and unflatteringly, I’m not surprised. (Men, are you not ashamed that we’re not surprised? Not surprised you would put a child at risk in order to catch a ball, not surprised at the depth of your irresponsibility, at your ‘me-first’ behavior, at your priorities…) I expect shit like this in the States and Canada. But it happened in Taiwan. And the Taiwanese commentators giggled and snickered just like the American commentators. (In fact, the similarity was chilling.) Could it be that the gender role conditioning that is so prevalent here is damn near universal? A scarey thought. Or is that universality evidence that it’s not a matter of nurture, but of nature (testosterone, the Y chromosome, the primitive brain, whatever).
Either way, the conclusion has to be that men are universally children. Or idiots. (Or both.)
[obviously written a while ago, but this shit keeps happening…]
Toller Cranston, as Janet Lynn takes the ice: “You wouldn’t know by looking at her that she’s a housewife and mother of three.”
What?
Would he have said of Kurt Browning, “You wouldn’t know by looking at him that he does stuff around the house and is a father of three”??
I think not.
Clearly Cranston thinks that – well, I don’t know what the hell he thinks. That doing stuff around the house is somehow incompatible with – skating? I’ll grant that being a parent could deplete one’s energy to the point that maintaining an elite level of athletic performance is unlikely, but that would apply only if the kids were a certain age and only if one didn’t have any assistance – and it would apply to men as well as women.
I suspect he has some stereotype of housewife and mother in his mind that Lynn didn’t fit. Perhaps that of a ditsy simpleton or an unkempt troll.
"We License Plumbers and Pilots - Why Not Parents?"At Issue: Is Parenthood a Right or a Privilege? ed. Stefan Kiesbye (Greenhaven, 2009); Current Controversies: Child Abuse, ed. Lucinda Almond (Thomson/Gale, 2006); Seattle Post-Intelligencer (October 2004)
"A Humanist View of Animal Rights"New Humanist September 99; The New Zealand Rationalist and Humanist Winter 98; Humanist in Canada Winter 97
have been previously published in Canadian Woman Studies, Herizons, Humanist in Canada, The Humanist, and The Philosopher's Magazine - contact Peg for acknowledgement details.
ImpactAn extended confrontation between a sexual assault victim and her assailants, as part of an imagined slightly revised court process, in order to understand why they did what they did and, on that basis, to make a recommendation to the court regarding sentence does not go … as expected.
What Happened to TomTom, like many men, assumes that since pregnancy is a natural part of being a woman, it’s no big deal: a woman finds herself pregnant, she does or does not go through with it, end of story. But then …
Aiding the EnemyWhen Private Ann Jones faces execution for “aiding the enemy,” she points to American weapons manufacturers who sell to whatever country is in the market.
Bang BangWhen a young boy playing “Cops and Robbers” jumps out at a man passing by, the man shoots him, thinking the boy’s toy gun is real. Who’s to blame?
ForeseeableAn awful choice in a time of war. Whose choice was it really?
Exile (full-length drama) Finalist, WriteMovies; Quarterfinalist, Fade-In.
LJ lives in a U . S. of A., with a new Three Strikes Law: first crime, rehab; second crime, prison; third crime, you’re simply kicked out – permanently exiled to a designated remote area, to fend for yourself without the benefits of society. At least he used to live in that new U. S. of A. He’s just committed his third crime.
What Happened to Tom (full-length drama) Semifinalist, Moondance.
This guy wakes up to find his body’s been hijacked and turned into a human kidney dialysis machine – for nine months.
Aiding the Enemy (full-length drama and short drama)
When Private Ann Jones faces execution for “aiding the enemy,” she points to American weapons manufacturers who sell to whatever country is in the market.
Bang Bang (short drama 30min) Finalist, Gimme Credit; Quarter-finalist, American Gem.
When a young boy playing “Cops and Robbers” jumps out at a man passing by, the man shoots him, thinking the boy’s toy gun is real. Who’s to blame?
Foreseeable (short drama 30min)
An awful choice in a time of war. Whose choice was it really?
What is Wrong with this Picture?
Nothing. There’s no reason women can’t be the superordinates and men the subordinates. But life’s not like that (yet).
Minding Our Own Business A collection of skits (including “The Price is Not Quite Right,” “Singin’ in the (Acid) Rain,” “Adverse Reactions,” “The Band-Aid Solution,” and “See Jane. See Dick.”) with a not-so-subtle environmental message
Rot in Hell A soapbox zealot and an atheist face off…