Our Bodies, Ourselves (28 page)

Judith:
More than shaping my knowledge of the “ideal” relationship, I think media images affect me by severely limiting my sense of what relationship models are possible. Years after coming out as a lesbian, I still find that if I watch too many sitcoms (with their almost entirely heterosexual pairings), I find myself asking questions about how I'd handle that situation were it to arise with my husband.

It's as if I temporarily forget that the media I'm being fed are not relevant to my own experience. It frustrates me, because I believe in role models; I believe in examining what has worked for others and incorporating the facets that I suspect will work for me. My favorite Disney film, when I was a kid, was
The Little Mermaid
, and yet I was fundamentally uninterested in Eric. I realize now that I selectively identified with Ariel; I connected with her experiences as the youngest daughter, her desire to be somewhere else, and her need to explore, while simultaneously dismissing her love for Eric. For all the problems I see in that film now, it's eye-opening for me to realize that, even as a small child, I had an ability to find my own representation and ignore what failed to speak to me.

These days, I seek out media that represent me, and my understanding of representation has expanded to include more than lesbian relationships. I look for feminist media, queer media, media that emphasize enthusiastic consent, media that do not presume sexuality is easy, media that recognize power dynamics and work to address them creatively. I look for stories in which—to paraphrase
The Celluloid Closet
—the people I most closely relate with are not there to be pitied, feared, or laughed at. In keeping with my days of Disney watching, I still take what resonates with me, in films, books, and television shows, and leave the rest. But I also engage more consciously and actively. I critique the media that don't speak to me, and I create stories and representations of my own to help build a fuller picture.

Chloe:
As a trans woman, I have to echo what some folks have already said about the lack of media depictions available to me at all. I
had almost nothing to work with from the start. When people talk about trans women in the mainstream media, it's usually to ponder how we could be “crazy” enough to “mutilate” ourselves or something. Our sexuality rarely comes up directly, though it's always there, on the underside. I suspect this is largely because of the ways our decision to transition has long been treated as a sexual fetish or deviancy.

Because of that history, we're thought of as “improperly sexual” no matter what we're doing. It shows up when right-wing propaganda tries to stir up some kind of creepy panic about how we're going to assault other women in the bathroom (because obviously trans women only go into bathrooms for sexual reasons, not just to, you know, pee). I'd say the vast majority of media images of trans women, besides the stupid bathroom stuff, are stories about when trans women (usually young trans women of color) are murdered, and this is often attributed to the stereotype that trans women are all sex workers (and thus, of course, “deserved” it by getting ourselves in dangerous positions). So while trans women's sexuality is not directly talked about in the media, it's usually there, and it's almost always seen as something threatening, immoral, dangerous to both ourselves and non-trans people, something that is perverse or something that gets us killed.

Media portrayals of trans women are getting slightly better, I think, but it brings up a whole other issue—most of what's seen now is of relatively privileged white, middle-class, late-transitioning trans women, like in the movie
Transamerica
. There're still few portrayals of young trans women of color. Or, when we have the occasional positive images like the story of Angel in
Rent
, it's still a tragic story that ends in death. At least it's closer to reality, and at least something is getting out there, I guess.

Kali:
What the media say about my relationships now, since I became disabled, is enough to make me both devastated and enraged. The media say that either my partner will leave me, or he is some great self-sacrificing person. There's no room for a relationship where both of us want to be there. Where both of us rely on each other, instead of just me relying on him. The media say that if he stays, it's some kind of amazing act of love, not the more mundane sort of romance that people who are not disabled have. He's not some brave, dramatic rescuer, and I'm not some crippled damsel who needs rescuing. We're just a couple of people in love. That's all. But there's no space in the media for happily ever after for us—either he has to give up his chance at something “better” and live a half life to “save” me (which typically ends in the disabled partner dying), or he has to leave me because my disability is just too miserable for him, and poor disabled me just isn't enough of a woman for him. I try to ignore the media, but I'll admit I have some trouble with the idea that I'm not good enough for him and don't deserve him.

Nina:
I am a black woman and I am looking for a partner. Race, color, creed don't really matter, but there are very few positive representations of black women and black women in positive couples. The only representation of the love that I am looking for is in Barack and Michelle Obama. Politics aside, they represent what I want: two educated beautiful black people in love and affectionate with beautiful children. They strive to make a change in the world. You may not agree with their politics, but their love is undeniable.

Rebeka:
Nina, I so agree with you. I am a half African/Caucasian-American girl. I am, shall we say, a bigger girl, so I am not portrayed in the media really at all, and if I am, it's not in a very positive way. I am only eighteen, so I am very new to the relationship phase of life. However, I love your Michelle and Barack comment. I hope to one day find love like they have. I just wanted to thank you for being so comfortable being you. I am still coming to terms with myself
and sexuality, but it makes me very happy to hear from a strong African-American woman like yourself, who has a strong sense of self. Thank you for being you.

Tasha Maria:
I can remember growing up on the South side of Chicago in the late '70s and the images of relationships on television were negative stereotypes of African Americans.

I felt a little better during the '80s when hip-hop hit the scene and many of the rappers back then rapped about love. LL Cool J's hit songs “I Need Love” and “Around the Way Girl” were my favorites because he talked about the black women with a lot of respect and love. It also rubbed off on the boys because they wanted to be like LL. We also had
The Cosby Show
, which made me feel like my dream was possible.

After
The Cosby Show
ended and gangsta rap became more popular, a total shift happened, and the African-American woman became a target in the worst way. The images of misogyny filled up the airwaves and the lyrics became more and more disrespectful. The term “baby daddy” was invented in order to explain the increase of unwed mothers.

These images didn't affect just the African-American community but women in general in ways that seem to be irreversible. Even old men like Imus felt the need to describe women as “nappy-headed hos” due to decreasing respect of women.

I turn on many popular television shows and they show interracial relationships usually between an African-American man and a Caucasian woman but rarely do they show a woman like me being loved or respected. Is the African-American woman near extinction? is a common question I have to ask myself from time to time. It has really made me feel sad to hear so many other sisters talk about relationship issues.

Sloane:
My husband is a stay-at-home dad for our baby boy, yet many describe his work as “babysitting.” When we go to the doctor for well visits, the doctor (male or female) speaks to me and doesn't tend to make eye contact with my husband even though many of the questions are best answered by him. I think it does affect how confident he is in taking care of our son. It is also frustrating for my husband that he spends all day with our son, but our son seems more attached to me because I can breastfeed him and my husband obviously can't (he feeds him breast milk with a bottle while I'm at work).

We went shopping for a used car for me. My husband stayed with our son while I spoke to the salespeople (usually male), who seemed baffled by the scenario. I'm sure all of these little realities filter into how we interact as a couple, but it's difficult to pinpoint how. We have plenty of power struggles, both trying to assert ourselves—even down to deciding how to rearrange the bedroom furniture.

Danielle:
A friend and I were discussing a similar situation she's having. Following her maternity leave, she's back at work full-time and he's at home with their baby most of the week. She said it's frustrating for both of them because many of the books of advice are geared for “mommy and baby,” so he feels left out and she feels like she's not being a good mother. Likewise, they get frustrated with the way products and information are presented because they don't really apply to their situation. I wanted to let you know you're not the only family who is feeling somewhat lost in how their gender/power/relationship structure “fits.”

Astrid:
I have dated several men who were older than me and had significant careers—CEO types, full of energy and incredibly self-centered. I have always felt flattered by their attention and have really enjoyed their company. I could always hold my ground in such a relationship and I always knew that my education was not second to theirs. But what I was mostly attracted to was the unfailing (and often unreflected) trust they'd have in their own abilities and qualifications. I think I wanted to be with them because they did what I did not dare to try to achieve myself. Not that I would not have been as qualified, but because I had more doubts about myself and my capabilities. Doubts I certainly had (and still have) because I am a woman.

Madigan:
I never got beyond ninth grade in school. I have been heavily involved in social justice activism since I was a teenager and usually have a very different background from most of the people I meet. My current partner is a year older than me and holds both an undergrad and a master's degree. Her family is very well-off and she attended one of the most expensive private schools in the city we both grew up in. We have been together nearly three and a half years now.

We see the world in very different ways and experience financial crises in very different ways. Until I got this well-paying job, I often felt stuck in our relationship for financial reasons and wondered at times if this was part of the reason we were still together. Fortunately, we have a good enough relationship that we have been able to talk about this a lot and have really come a long way as far as this is concerned. Getting a job that raised my income level significantly has leveled the playing field in many ways, but the thought that I could lose this job at any moment never leaves my mind.

Kali:
My current boyfriend and I are about equal in education (both have MAs; he's almost done with his PhD; I'm halfway through my JD).
My family is a bit wealthier than his, enough so that I've done much more traveling than he, but that's about all. We're similar in financial situation. The big gap in power in our relationship comes from the fact that he is abled and I am disabled. Well, and the whole female/male disparity.

In general, he's a very progressive guy and both a feminist and disability ally. However, sometimes he doesn't realize things are problematic. I end up shocked that he doesn't get it, and he gets defensive as I try to explain (he says I get condescending). Things like calling a person “blind” when they are really being ignorant (in other words, using disability as a metaphor for bad things). On the other hand, he is very supportive, helping with things that I can't do because of my disability, and has never given me any indication that he thinks less of me for needing his help (on the contrary, he admires my strength and determination to still do what I can do). He always thinks of us as being equals in the relationship. I struggle with that sometimes.