[R-G] Patriarchy makes men crazy and stupid
Anthony Fenton
fentona at shaw.ca
Wed Jul 9 11:54:33 MDT 2008
Patriarchy makes men crazy and stupid
Islamabad, Pakistan
Robert Jensen
http://mwcnews.net/content/view/23776&Itemid=1
Some lessons learned while spending time in a different culture come
from paying attention to the wide diversity in how we humans arrange
ourselves socially. Equally crucial lessons come from seeing patterns
in how people behave similarly in similar situations, even in very
different cultural contexts.
This week in Pakistan, as I have been learning more about a very
different culture than my own, I was reminded of one of those
patterns: Patriarchy makes men crazy.
The setting for this lesson is the International Islamic University in
Islamabad, where I am teaching a three-week course on media law and
ethics as a visiting fellow of the university’s Iqbal International
Institute for Research and Dialogue. Institute Director Mumtaz Ahmad
brought in me and my Canadian colleague Justin Podur, who is teaching
a course on critical thinking, to bring new perspectives to the
students at what is a fairly orthodox university, and the dialogue has
indeed been rewarding.
As is the case in my courses at the University of Texas at Austin, no
matter what the specific subject of the course -- freedom of
expression, democracy, and mass media, in this case -- I often raise
questions about how our identities -- race, gender, class, nation --
structure our position in a society and understanding of the world.
Given the gender segregation at IIU -- I have male and female students
in my class, but they are housed on different campuses and much of the
regular instruction is in single-sex settings -- it’s difficult not to
circle back frequently to gender.
One day while I was talking about race, I pointed out that while white
people in a white-supremacist have distinct advantages, there is one
downside: It makes white people crazy. The students’ expressions
suggested they weren’t sure how to take that, so I explained: White
supremacy leads white people to believe they are superior based on
their skin color. That idea is … crazy. Therefore, lots of white
people -- those who explicitly support white supremacy or
unconsciously accept such a notion -- are crazy.
My students are mostly Pakistani, with a few from other Islamic
countries in Asia and Africa; all are brown or black. They tried to be
polite but couldn’t help laughing at the obvious truth in the
statement, as well as the odd fact that a white guy was saying it.
I then moved to an obvious comparison: We men know about this problem,
I said, because of the same problem in patriarchy. In male-supremacist
societies, men have distinct advantages, but we often believe that we
are superior based on our sex. That idea is ….
This time the women laughed, but the men were silent. They weren’t so
sure they agreed with the analysis in this case.
The next week a power outage at the university helped me drive home my
point.
When we arrived that morning and found our classroom dark, we looked
for a space with natural light that could accommodate the entire
class. The most easily accessible place was the carpeted prayer area
off the building lobby, and one of the female faculty members helping
me with the class led us there. I sat down with the women, and one of
the most inquisitive students raised a critical question about one of
my assertions from our previous class. We launched into a lively
discussion for several minutes, until we were informed that the male
students had a problem with the class meeting there. I looked around
and, sure enough, the men had yet to join us. They were standing off
to the side, refusing to come into the prayer space, which they
thought should not be used for a classroom with men and women.
Our host Junaid Ahmad, who puts his considerable organizing skills to
good use in the United States and Pakistan, was starting to sort out
the issue when the power came back on, and we all headed back to our
regular classroom. I put my scheduled lecture on hold to allow for
discussion about what had just happened. Could a prayer space be used
for other purposes, such as a class? If so, given such that space is
used exclusively by men here, is it appropriate to use it for a
coeducational classroom?
It’s hardly surprising that students held a variety of opinions about
how to resolve those questions consistent with their interpretation of
Islamic principles, and a gendered pattern emerged immediately. The
women overwhelmingly asserted that there was nothing wrong with us all
being in the prayer space, and the men overwhelmingly rejected that
conclusion. I made it clear that as an outsider I wasn’t going to
weigh in on the theological question, but that I wanted to use our
experience to examine how a society could create a system of freedom
of expression to explore such issues democratically.
The lesson for me came in how the discussion went forward. The women
were not shy in expressing themselves, eager to engage in debate with
the men, who were considerably more reserved. After a contentious half
hour of discussion, we moved forward to my lecture. During the break,
the men huddled to discuss the question of the prayer space. When we
reconvened, one of them asked if a representative of the men could
speak again on issue. He began by saying that he had hesitated to
speak in the previous discussion because he felt it was obvious that
the women were wrong and he had not wanted to hurt their feelings or
impede their willingness to speak up by pointing out their error
immediately.
I suggested we resolve that question first. I turned to the women and
asked, “Will your feelings be hurt or will you be you afraid to speak
if he is critical of your arguments?” Their response was a resounding
no.
I turned back to the man and made the obvious point: We now have clear
evidence that that your assumption was wrong. The women are telling
you directly that they are not shy about debating, and so you can make
your points. When he did -- and when the women disagreed -- they let
him know without hesitation. From what I could tell, his argument did
not persuade many, if any, of the women that their judgments had been
wrong.
What struck me about the exchange was how ill-prepared the men were to
defend their position in the face of a challenge from the women. It
was clear that the men were not used to facing such challenges, and as
they scrambled to formulate rebuttals they did little more than
restate claims with which they were comfortable and familiar. That
strategy (or lack of a strategy) is hardly unique to Pakistani men.
To modify my previous statement about the negative effects of
privilege on the privileged: Patriarchy makes us men not just crazy
but stupid. The more our intellectual activity takes place in male-
dominant spaces, and the more intensely male-dominant those spaces
are, the less likely we are to develop our ability to think critically
about gender and power. Sometimes when faced with an incisive
challenge, men become aggressive, even violent; sometimes men retreat
with an illusory sense of victory; sometimes men sulk until women give
up the debate. Individual men will react differently in different
times and places; it’s the patterns that are important.
Cultural diversity exists alongside universal patterns. The United
States and Pakistan are very different societies, but they are both
patriarchal. Patriarchy takes different forms in each society, and the
harms to women can be quite different, but my observation holds in
both. It doesn’t mean patriarchy doesn’t sometimes also constrain
women’s thinking, nor does it mean women are always right in debates
with men. To identify patterns is not to make ridiculous totalizing
claims.
There’s one more valuable lesson I took away from this episode: I have
to be vigilant in challenging my stereotypes about women in Islamic
societies. I can be quick to assume that Islamic women always
capitulate to the patriarchal ideas and norms that dominate their
societies. While I can’t know what each woman in the room was
thinking, there was a consensus that they would not accept the
conclusion of the men without challenge. In front of me were women
with their heads covered (the hijab) and some with the full face veil
(the niqab). Others had scarves draped around their shoulders, their
heads uncovered. One of the two most forceful women in the debate wore
the hijab and the other was uncovered; I couldn’t predict the content
or tone of a woman’s response from her dress. No matter how much I
know that intellectually, I still catch myself making assumptions
about these women based on their choice of head covering. The class
discussion reminds me to remember to challenge my own assumptions.
These conclusions are hardly original or revolutionary, but they bear
regular restatement:
It is crucial that we remember the reality of cultural diversity and
encourage respect of that diversity, while not shying away from
critical engagement. That’s especially important for those of us from
privileged classes in affluent imperial nations, who often are quick
to assume we are superior.
It’s just as crucial to look for patterns across cultures, to help us
understand how systems of power shape us in ways that are remarkably
consistent and to help us develop better strategies to resist
illegitimate authority and transform our diverse societies. That is
important for us all who care about justice.
Robert Jensen is a journalism professor at the University of Texas at
Austin and board member of the Third Coast Activist Resource Center http://thirdcoastactivist.org
. His latest book is Getting Off: Pornography and the End of
Masculinity (South End Press, 2007). http://www.southendpress.or/2007/items/87767&Jensen
is also the author of The Heart of Whiteness: Race, Racism, and
White Privilege and Citizens of the Empire: The Struggle to Claim Our
Humanity (both from City Lights Books); and Writing Dissent: Taking
Radical Ideas from the Margins to the Mainstream (Peter Lang). He can
be reached at: rjensen at uts.cc.utexas.edu
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