I am sometimes so amused by myself. It's funny to evaluate myself from arbitrary standpoints, and see where I might fit into other people's stereotypes and norms. My book collection, for instance, is rather telling: it is filling up with what you might call the feminist canon: Naomi Wolf, bell hooks, Rebecca Walker, Simone DeBeauvoir, and three or four Jeanette Winterson novels. Of course, the other half of my books fall into the "hipster academic" category- Foucault, Steinbeck, Kerouac, Nietzsche, Hesse, Tolstoy, Wiesel, McLuhan, and Vonnegut; all those dense and not-so-dense tomes of 20th century western culture. Essentially, my books say that I'm a feminist academic. True, but definitely not the whole story.

Beyond the book factor, I'm also occasionally bemused at how well I can fit the superficial "dyke" stereotype. I'm a cat-loving, feminist-theory-reading, leftist-leaning, steel-toed-docs-wearing, tool-wielding, Ani-DiFranco-listening bisexual woman, all of which, if considered independently of any further knowledge of me, could lead people to some interesting, and probably false, impressions of who I really am.

I've been thinking a lot about feminism these days, in all of its varied forms. You know, I believe that in many cases, real progress within a movement is demonstrated by, of all things, the splitting of that movement. Years ago, women (and allied men) had to present a united front in order to make any real changes. Now, there are essentialists, constructivists, ecofeminists, power feminists, second wavers, third wavers, ad infinitum. Due to the ground broken by earlier activists, today's feminists now have the freedom to identify with whatever part of feminism best fits with their own their own ideals, and a multiplicity of identities within the broader category of "woman" can be acknowledged.

As girlhood diary entries can attest to, I've always considered myself a feminist. I'm only just now realizing, though, which parts of feminism I can truly align myself with. For instance, I just can't agree with the notions that pornography and S/M sexuality are essentially harmful to women. While I don't participate in either form of sexual expression, I don't think that it is worthwhile or appropriate to place value judgements or limitations on sexuality, as long as all parties involved are consenting adults. Restrictions on pornography just smack of censorship, while devaluing S/M as a valid form of sexuality is just as repulsive to me as devaluing homosexuality.

In other words, I'm no Gloria Steinem. Alice Walker likely wouldn't consider me a feminist, and I imagine Susan B. Anthony would have absolutely NO idea what to think of me. The face of feminism has changed over the years, and is still changing... what will feminism mean to the next generation, or hundreds of years down the line? Probably something utterly unrecognizable to me.

A tongue-in-cheek idea for a Macalester bumper sticker:

Don't worry, you're oppressed.
Macalester College

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Hearing: Depeche Mode- When I asked Patrick to pick out some CD's I could borrow that would be good coding music, this is one he selected (along with yesterday's Deep Forest and one by Enigma). I actually forget what the title is; he didn't give me the jewel case so I'd have to stop the CD and take it out in order to tell you, which I'm far too lazy to do.

Reading: Rebecca Walker's To Be Real- no, not a cheesy pop psychology book, but a collection of essays on what feminism means to a younger generation of women, namely, mine. She spoke at the GLBT college conference I went to in February, and I'd been lusting after her book ever since.