Yes

Anonymously

Yes

Yes

"Thanks for coming with me."

He smirks. "As if I'd pass this up. Where are we going exactly?"

I point. The inn rises before us, waiting. It's a quaint building, something out of the Victorian era, or perhaps more recent but still stuck in that same perfect past. As we push open the creaky door, I turn to see the perfectly ordered knick knacks of the hotel, screaming out their false memories as they try to add an aura of homeliness to what is in essence an institution. The tiny dolls and dusty stuffed toys cluster together, overwhelming the furniture, begging for you to make their story your own.

I peek into the kitchen where two women are working and talking. Their dress and carefully professional bobs of hair meld with forced friendly smiles to give an air of foreboding. But they direct us upstairs without any signs of concern. Maybe it's just me.

The man is waiting when we get upstairs. He’s middle aged, balding, and rather portly. Sweat pours off him and he adjusts his pants to cover what is clearly an erection. I ignore it and walk over to him. He’s already talking, blustering, and introduces himself to my bodyguard before even approaching me.
I slip into the bathroom to change. I fuss nervously with my hair while I readjust the undergarments, knowing that in a few moments they will be outerwear.

When I return to the room, the umbrella lights have been arranged around a gold upholstered chair. The light glares at me, two eyes filled with disapproval. What are you doing here? You’re one of the nice girls.
Nice girls don’t meet strange men in out-of-the-way hotels.

“Now, take off the left strap – no, your other left – so you’re just exposed… that’s it. Click… flash… I blink against the light. Don’t look at me like that. Even in the privacy of the room I know I’m showing more people than I can imagine. Photography is like that… a moment, captured. And then reproduced. Made available for anyone who wants to see it.

Though why anyone would want to see the form I'd kept concealed under my clothes, I didn't know.

"Don't try to hide. Lower your hand."
I place my hand firmly down on my thigh, leaning forward, still sucking in my stomach to try to hide the gut that ice cream sandwiches and parfaits have left, even though the motion makes the protrusions of my rib cage even more noticeable, the ghostly pallor of untanned skin revealed.

"Now if you would just slip out of that skirt..."

Another shapeless bit of fabric drops without ceremony to the floor behind the chair. Flash. I reposition myself, shifting in the seat. With each motion, a little more shows, put on display. More than anyone has seen displayed before.

The first boy to see me saw me in darkness. In the middle of what passes for a forest in Suburbia, past midnight, trespassing on public property to perform the most public and private of acts. He'd been my boyfriend for four years, but never my lover. And he wasn't that night... a lack of preparation made some things impossible. Only moonlight illuminated our bodies as we cast aside clothing in favor of rejoining nature, falling on the ground in the midst of roaches and broken beer bottles and dirt and dead leaves.

He told me I was beautiful. I never took that to heart... and I concealed myself with even more care than before. Click. So much for concealment. I lean forward, the angle making my breasts appear larger, shadowing my thighs and baring all while revealing nothing. I turn my head to give him a different angle, and meet the eyes of my ex boyfriend, my bodyguard... here to protect a body that he himself had never been allowed to sample.

Nice girls don’t take off their clothes for money.

Nice girls don’t enjoy it.

---

As true as memory can be.

No

I’m very pleased to introduce our second guest blogger, the fabulously Fauxmo ChicaLolita. She went from a girl who watched He-Man to a woman who watches football, but what she really wants to be is a cartoon…

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a cartoon. You can say this is because I prefer the hyper-reality of something obviously fake rather than an airbrushed photograph or that these female forms clearly go against all laws of gravity, not to mention the cheesecake pin-up’s uncanny ability to have the breeze sweep up her skirt at just the right moment. It might just be because these images are so cheeky, silly and – well, cartoonish – that it’s impossible to take them seriously. Sex, gender and eroticism lose so much of their fun when locked down to traditional identity. It must be exhausting to maintain the constant sunken-cheeked pout of a Calvin Klein model.

It’s no wonder burlesque has suddenly become so popular in the mainstream as a way of boosting women’s self-image. It takes the poe-faced solemnity out of sex, is fun to both watch and perform, plus it puts curvy girls at an advantage. The same cannot be said of pole-dancing. Ironic really that pole-dancers are in constant movement, yet don’t seem to actually move. Their flesh doesn’t jiggle delightfully, their facial expressions do not change to a cheeky grin or an ‘oops’ when they catch you looking. If gender is a performance, you may as well play up to it and acknowledge the gaze.

The ultimate fauxmo female in my view is Jessica Rabbit. How I wanted to be her when I was a child! Come to think of it, aged 33 that ambition hasn’t changed one little bit. She is the Tex Avery girl filtered through the way Frank Tashlin filmed Jayne Mansfield, herself playing a cartoon in flesh and blood all the way from her little girl squeaky voice to blonde wig and a body shape only ever seen in drawings. Jessica is hyper-real sexuality dropped into the real world of Bob Hoskins’ character, all tiny waist, huge bouncing bosom and impossibly long legs. She’s not bad, she’s just drawn that way. I’m not bad, I just like to draw myself that way.

http://fauxmos.wordpress.com/2010/06/01/toon-temptation/

No

Written for Hack Gender.

Disclaimer: Not all law firms are like this. Not everyone in the legal field believes this advice. Some things may be taken out of context. This is a piece of creative writing (and possibly written to be a performance piece, but it's been so long since I a) wrote a performance piece and b) performed it that I'm not sure anymore) inspired by discussions of gender and clothing "rules" and feminism and does not reflect the views of any of the people, places, or groups with which I am associated.

Lawyers, Look Like Men


Mostly, I am clothing ambivalent. For nearly thirty years, this has gotten me through life without a problem, but as my sister told me before I went to law school, I was growing up and needed to set aside surfer-girl chic and dress like an adult. (She is my younger sister, which makes it kind of hilarious. I do rely heavily on her fashion sense. When I shop for clothes, I take her and her best friend along as my consultants. They are awesome.)

Now that I'm done with law school and heading into the legal world, I am thinking a lot about clothes and what they say about the person wearing them and what I want my clothes to say about me and how much both those statements are censored by the worlds in which I participate. (Not just the legal field, either. I plan to write a later piece about how the other worlds in which I participate censor expression, intentionally and not.)

This is inspired by a lot of dressing for legal success I've heard during my time at law school and recent specific fashion advice put out by a bar association.

Some choice quotes:

"We imagined 1L women teetering down the walkway in Victoria's Secret skirt suits and hooker heels, and 2L men sporting scruff and pinstripes, and the judges snarkily lecturing them on proper Esquire attire."

"How To Dress Like A Lawyer As Told By Some Women Haters, Old Men And Random Law Students."

"Maybe you bought your suit at Express or somewhere . . . and you bent over to get a Danish and I can see your tramp stamp."

"[I]f you are a male lawyer, invest in a well-fitting suit (and be grateful). If you are a female lawyer, invest in a well-fitting male suit and a male who will wear said suit and speak for you, Cyrano style."

Here is some of the advice I've heard over the years, with my annotations. I have taken great liberties with some of it, but other pieces are reproduced verbatim.

Appropriate Legal Dress for Women


Wear a dark suit. Men wear dark suits. We fear color. Only girly girls and gay men love color. They have no place in this world. Be like a man.

Women should wear skirt suits. Women can't wear pant suits. Women can wear pant suits. Women can't just wear suits, because suits are for men. Women must label their suits with different terms because women aren't men. Women must wear skirt suits. Women must cover their legs with pantyhose when they wear skirt suits. Women must not wear open-toed shoes or peep-toed shoes. The faintest glimmer of bare skin below the throat will send men into paroxysms of lust. Even the tip of a toe is too much. We must protect the men.

Chorus: Make sure your suit is not too fitted. Make sure your suit is not too loose. Do not wear your hair in a ponytail. Do not wear your hair down in a distracting way. Do not tempt men with your lustrous locks.

Bind your feet. Bind your legs. Bind your breasts. Bind your hair.

Don't look too much like a woman. Don't disrespect men by wearing pants. Wear a skirt. Beg the judge for admission to his courtroom with legs encased in pantyhose. You in the pants, you anger the judge, you are banished. Wear your skirt and grovel for a place at the table. Be silent. Let the men speak.

Don't wear a lot of makeup. Don't wear dark makeup. Don't wear a lot of jewelry. Don't wear too little jewelry. Women look naked without face paint, delicate earrings, and a gold necklace around a slender throat. Don't wear bare skin or you'll distract the men on the jury. Don't wear a large engagement ring because you will make your female interviewer jealous and angry. Because all women want to be married. Because all women want a large diamond and the blood on their hands. All we women do is compete for the attention of men.

Do not look rich. Do not carry a brand-name handbag. Do not look poor. Buy expensive suits and tailor your suits and throw out cheap clothes. Wear pearls and diamonds.

Do not present yourself as feminine. Do not wear jewelry. Do not wear low-cut shirts. Do not wear bright colors. Do not wear patterns. Do not wear ruffles.

Chorus: Do not dare to be different. You must stand in a line and you must all look alike and you must all look conservative and masculine and white.

These are cardinal sins. Be perfectly penitent and contrite. These are deadly sins and we are immoral and we are fallen. Forgive me, couturier, for I have sinned. Forgive me for being fat and for being a woman.

Do not wear boots. Do not bare your arms. Do not wear pink. Pink is for girls. We want to be as like men. Do not wear clothes that show your shape. Do not reveal your tramp stamp. Because women do not have decorative body art. Women only have stamps that reveal their evil sexuality.

Hide the curve of your breasts, the roundness of your waist, the bend of your hips. Beg forgiveness if a shadow passes across your cleavage. Respect that the partner supervising you is someone's husband, someone's father, someone's boyfriend. Women are never partners. Men cannot resist the urge to look. All men are straight. All men want women. We must hide ourselves to protect them from their own desires.

Chorus: Ladies, have some respect for yourselves. There are a lot of married men at law firms and you do not want to tempt them.

Because just our existence is temptation. Because Eve took up an apple and parted its flesh with her teeth and we have been sin and fallen women ever since, our flesh so firm, our bodies bursting like overripe fruit.

Hide yourselves, women, do not dare to distract and tempt.

Chorus: This is not the time for self-expression, flamboyance, or eccentricity.

Being a woman is flamboyant and eccentric. Dress like a man. Do not be fat. Do not wear jewelry. You may pierce your ears but nothing else. Do not decorate your skin with ink. Hide your flaws, anything that makes you different, that makes you woman. Hide yourself and be grateful you are allowed to call yourself lawyer. You are lucky to be allowed into venerable law schools and big name law firms and into the court room and you must never be different. You must be rich and white and dull and slender. You must be desexed.

Remember always, women, you must be as much like a man as you can but you will never be enough.

http://seeksadventure.livejournal.com/1475652.html

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The Female Avatar is a look at the construction of virtual female bodies within the realm of Second Life:

No

I was contemplating some of the issues with “gender inclusive” game design and sort of ran a muck with thoughts. Below is part of what came of it.

For an industry concerned with trying to appeal to women, You’d think they would first find out what women would like to play. And shouldn’t they assume that the female gaming age is not restricted to 7-12 year olds considering the average gamers age is in the area of 32? Creating the genre of “girls games” only creates more confusion and alienation for the female gaming community. Not to mention that the name alone turns of anyone who has passed puberty.

Personally, I find it appalling. I do not want to be pigeonholed to the point where I am only allowed to be interested in games that involve such classically stereotypical female things as “Barbie” or “social interactions” with pink load screens and little puppies in the background. I want to blow my fellow competitor out of the water just as much as he does me. The industry uses far too much time and energy to create female avatars that are either half-clad in clothes, or are creating fashions for Barbie’s already extensive wardrobe. Games such as Dead or Alive have built a reputation within the gaming community for having perfected their “breast physics.” Would not that time and energy be better spent in a genre of games that doesn’t exclude females but incorporates them? I’m sure not all male gamers can be happy about what these assumed images mean for them as well. Are all men sexually starved Neanderthals, that they must have Blood Rayne-like images in order to find a game appealing or entertaining? I think not.

It makes sense that the industry should want to walk the middle of the road in order to incorporate as many gamers as possible. Not only would you have the male population buying the game for its awesome moves, great special effects, and terrific narrative, you will also have girls buying the game for all these reasons with an added bonus that the main character is not offensive to them. What the industry needs to learn is that encouraging females to game is not a bad thing.

If it is true that gender roles are learned fully at age 7, and begin to be explored at age 2, it is hard to believe that an individuals cognition is not affected by the same socialization that causes them to recognize these roles. Women, just like men, are taught to act a certain way, behave and dress a certain way, as well as approach problems a certain way. Women are not traditionally allowed to use violence, for example, to solve problems. They are expected to communicate their issues better than men, and be more understanding than men. So it makes sense that we should think of women as learning differently than men.

A danger certainly lies in the assumptions of what is “inherent” in women beyond their anatomical attributes. Very little of what gender is, in the critical analysis sense of the word, has to do with biology. While some of these assumptions are less damaging than others, they certainly provide excuses for another’s behavior. Lets think of this in terms of a real world example: Erin. She’s been playing video games for a long time now, and no longer is victim to the ergonomics of the controller or the inability to prove herself in a room of male gamers and feels as though she has a grasp on what it takes to play with the boys. But now she has to go out into the real world and preach what she practices. She enters a room full of bright young programmers, all eager to hear her story of trial and triumph. She tells them of her new revolutionary way to make games “gender inclusive”. And then a young lady stands up and asks, “Why is it that I can’t like to play games the same way boys do?” Erin is forced to answer, “Well, that’s because you as a female learn differently from your male counterpart.” The young lady sits down and accepts this idea. She is different from her male counterpart not only in anatomy but also in brain function.

The idea of gender inclusive game design is a terrific way to get females into the market, but its short-term. At some point in the new female gamers life, they will want to do what the boys do. They will want to be able to play just as rough, be just as competitive without caring about the “relationship” at stake or ensuring everyone is having fun. And at that point, gender inclusive game design can do nothing for the stereotypes and gender assumptions at play within society. That gamer will still be criticized for behaving in such a manner, or participating in such play.

Is everything gender inclusive game design has to offer a negative? Absolutely not, as stated previously, it is a great short-term solution to getting females into the market. A higher female population in the market could be argued as forcing the industry to rethink its marketing strategies and thus game content. Should the images of females within games be changed? Yes. Should the marketing of games be geared towards both men and women, so as to keep both parties interested and not favor one over the other? Yes. But a danger still lies in creating games according to gendered learning. Creating a genre of games that are gender “safe”, where both genders can participate equally, or having games that are gender specific, does not solve the problem of gender “crossing”. By gender crossing I don’t simply mean having a male player able to play as a female avatar, though that is part of it. Gender crossing games have more to do with the idea that female or male, the game should be open to the player, and in return that player is not criticized for liking it because of gender constraints. As it stands now, games that are labeled as “male” (First Person Shooters) cannot be or should not be played by a female, and games labeled female (Girls Games) a male wouldn’t want to go anywhere near. Many gaming tournaments currently are male or female team specific. Creating games that make a name off of gender role assumptions validate these tournaments. They also prevent women from being taken seriously when they have true skills in genres they are not labeled for.