#commmajor

I went to a work conference back home, which is Sacramento for me. I work with a network marketing company through which entrepreneurs can build their own business and thus, create a life of their design over the life chosen for them by larger corporations and societal expectations. That is, at least, how I view and utilize the opportunity.

At the top levels of the company I work with, the leaders, or National Marketing Directors as they are entitled, unlock corporate-level health care, tuition reimbursement, holiday expense bonuses, and more, all while continuing to be their own bosses. This has allowed so many families I’ve seen to leave the actual corporate world and spend more time at home with those they value most.

Every six months at our biannual company conference, every newly promoted NMD gets to go on the main stage and share their story. It is the most powerful and inspirational part of conference and always manages to bring tears to my eyes. Men and women alike share their stories of struggle and hardship, and how they were pulled to be a part of a company that not only allows them time- and financial-freedom, but also gives them the opportunity every day to share the power and their passion for healthy living (it is a health-based company). Being that this last conference was the first time I’ve gone while simultaneously being in a communication studies class surrounding gender, I must say I paid attention in a different way than I typically would.

One of the stories that truly affected me was from a husband that had worked in the real estate sector and was the sole provider for his family for years. He and his wife had three children and mom primarily stayed at home (figuratively speaking, since being a mom requires not staying at home for, I’m sure, most of the day). When the housing market crashed, and, subsequently, the economy, he found himself out of a job and really out of a career. His entire industry that he knew and was skilled in had crumbled around him. He went on to tell us how after months of job searching and not getting anywhere, he said he felt his “worthiness as a husband, as a father, and as a man was diminishing.” My heart crumbled for him, and I knew it wasn’t his fault for feeling this way.

As I’ve learned time and time again in my Gender and Communication class, our society has been set up to develop men as breadwinners and providers for their families. In a way, society has created what we can refer to as a “transformational truth- that nineteenth-century capitalism and nineteenth-century gender created each other.” From the time men start thinking about dating, we (I use the term “we” in referring to a capitalist, heteronormative society) assume they will be paying for the date, we breed them to believe they must take up a skill or career that can provide enough for an entire family to live on. Also, men and women alike value men that are paid more and hold jobs of higher status. Essentially, “the content of masculinity and femininity [is] always in flux. Placing people already classed as ‘male’ or ‘female’ into legal structures, financial relationships, and emergent states.”

It broke my heart that this man’s self-confidence in his ability to love and care for his family dwindled on a preconceived notion of what men should be that was placed on him long before he ever would have realized.

No one’s value should be placed on their income. No one’s value should be placed on their job status. This man’s value should be placed on the amount of love he bestowed through his words and actions over anything else. I fear it will be long before we realize that love can’t be measured by a dollar sign.

Source:

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta

Fight for the rights of ALL humans, trust that the answers lie within feminism, erase the word “friendzone” from your vocabulary, let me cry because man I like to CRY, let me open doors for you too, respect my independence, understand that I am a full human with AND without you, know that breastfeeding is normal, take the cute photos when I want the cute photos, challenge me, not let me win, be willing to recognize privilege and entitlement, check yourself, check me, love all humans like you want to be loved, and never assume that my frustration is coming from my period rather than your mansplaining.

Then, we can talk.

I went back home this weekend to sweet home Sacramento. One of my favorite things about Sacramento is how no matter how long I am away, things seem to always be the same when I go back. This time, however, felt different. It shouldn’t be a surprise that I felt this way. After all, this time when my two closest friends visited, they were with their new baby boys in their arms. That sure was a change. I spent some time with my ‘nephews’, unable to look away from the miracles that they were and simply in awe of their tiny fingernails and big heads. But, I was taken out of the moment when my parents joined in on the peek-a-booing.

Allow me to begin by reassuring you that I do not consider myself an expert in babies, speaking to babies, or anything of the like, but I was taken aback by how my parents were interacting about my nephews. My dad was playing with both, lifting them by their arms and teasing them; on the other hand, my mom couldn’t stop cooing that they were already ladies’ men and were “already getting girls”. I was not only taken aback, but also taken back to sitting in my Communication and Gender class and watching students scribble down in green dry-erase markers the types of behaviors that defined our gender identity since, clearly, longer than we can even remember.

I chose to hold my tongue in this situation, but I couldn’t help but to imagine how these simple words would someday grow into expressions such as “be a man”, “lady-killer”, and “boys will be boys”. My nephews had no idea what words were being spoken to them, so I tried to think of the situation as minor and irrelevant. But there I was, sitting at a crossroads between letting it go and feeling the weight of everything I’ve learned about gender norms and feminism fall onto my shoulders. My first thought was “Mom, your own son is gay. How can you say these things about a child who just came into this world? Also, why would you want to? He’s a BABY.” (Side note- I tend to have lengthy conversations in my mind about things like this.) It astounded me that even the most open-minded, loving people too fall victim to the faults of heteronormativity. It’s not her fault, in fact, it’s not anyone’s fault directly. It’s the fault of generations of assuming there is a gender binary. It’s the fault of a capitalist market structure that from the time we are born, assumes we are either blue or pink and must stick to one of these two categories for a lifetime. It is no one’s fault, but at the same time, it is everyone’s.

Welcome to my page, genderbecking. Though I have no intentions for anyone to view this other than my Communication + Gender professor (hi Picarelli), I figured I should still give myself an introduction. My name is Becky and I am a junior at California State University, Northridge majoring in communication studies. I am writing this blog as my final project and am so very excited to share what I witness in the world around me when it comes to how we human beings interact and live as gendered beings. I am 24 years old, white, born and raised in California, liberal, cisgender, and ‘heterosexual’ (though I’d rather identify as a point within a continuum of sexualities). I am choosing to relay this information to whomever is choosing to read this blog so you can understand where my opinions, ideals, and views may be stemming from. I in no way intend to offend through what I might share, but to simply do that- share.  

As for the name, genderbecking, it quite literally sprung into my mind as I was signing up for this account. I am a firm believer that a binary is made up and that in some way, each and every one of us falls within a spectrum of masculine behaviors, feminine behaviors, and all that has yet to be named. I am also a total sucker for a good pun.