Naomusings

My musings on the mainstream media and culture.

Archive for the category “Feminism”

Why this Feminist Loves The Bachelor, or, Pretty White People Behaving Badly

rose

This Monday, The Bachelor is back! And I can’t wait. Since 2002, I’ve been a viewer of The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and even the miserably sleazy Bachelor Pad.

And why do I watch this stuff? Because I’m addicted to romance? Because I have great faith that two strangers will fall in love on an eight-week long reality show and live happily ever after?

No and hell no. I watch these shows for one reason — because they are just about the funniest shows I’ve ever seen on television.

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Embracing My Inner Eponine

cossette

Dan and I spent New Year’s Eve watching Les Miserables. I saw it on Broadway 23 years ago, in the cheap seats during my sophomore year of college.

As an insecure 19-year-old, what resonated most for me at the time was the story of Eponine. Perchance you haven’t seen Les Mis, it goes like this: Eponine loves Marius, but he just thinks of her as a friend. Then he catches a glimpse of Cosette, the heroine who represents all that is good and pure in this truly dark narrative.  He instantly falls in love. Eponine joins the rebel group and dies saving Marius’ life. He is grateful for a brief moment. Then a bunch of other stuff happens and he marries Cosette.

Despite liberal doses of feminism at an early age, my greatest fear in the world — to be painfully blunt —  was that I would never find a life partner.  My 19-year-old world seemed full of Cosettes who were far more beautiful and thin and fabulous than me, and they all seemed to have boyfriends who would never even notice a lowly Eponine like myself.  I wanted nothing more than to be Cosette.

Then, twenty-three years later, I watched the movie version with my husband.  And I noticed something very quickly.

Cosette is lame.

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Naomi’s Annual “I Am Not Martha Stewart” Gift-Wrapping Angst Fest

Attention universe:

I am a crappy gift-wrapper.

I just wrapped my husband’s two holiday gifts. The small one turned out okay.  Not Martha Stewart-worthy, but not laughable either.

present 1

My wrapping job on the large second gift was verkakteVerkakte is a Yiddish word that roughly translates to “screwed up.” It also roughly translates to “oy, vey, Naomaleh, you’re 42 years old and you can’t even wrap a present!”

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What I Learned From “Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids Edition”

green dresses

There’s plenty of intelligent programming on my TiVo lineup. PBS Newshour. Jeopardy. The Colbert Report. There’s also an embarrassing amount of mindless, patriarchal jibber-jabber on my TiVo—the kind of stuff that smart people say they watch “because it’s a train wreck” or “for ironic pleasure” or “because I’m looking forward to the apocalypse.”

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Mr. and Mrs. My Husband, or, I Guess I Didn’t Need that Pesky Identity

Okay, readers.  Let’s assume that like me, you are a heterosexual married woman. Now, let’s assume that someone sends you a holiday card. It is addressed to you as follows, with your husband’s name in place of my husband’s name:

Now, how would you react to receiving a card addressed in this manner? Select one.

  1. I wouldn’t care. I don’t care what people call me.
  2. I would cringe. I have an identity of my own and am not defined by my decision to marry a man.
  3. I would be happy.  When I was a tween, I wrote “Mrs. So-and-So” on my notebooks whenever I had a crush on a boy. My dreams have come true.
  4. I would send the card back unopened to the sender with a note that said, “Return to Sender Due to Sexism.”
  5. I would not do #4 because I have some semblance of manners and have to function as a social being in this imperfect world. But I would certainly consider this.

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