I have had the privilege of visiting a doctor's office, a dentist, and a hospital all in the last week. Only the dentist was for me; the others were in support roles. It never ceases to amaze me the stark contrast in levels of power. Two of the doctors were male and acted like good old boys, throwing around slang names for body parts, or in the case of my dentist, doing the flirty old man thing. Normally I don't sit still for being referred to as "a pretty young thing." This is not a prince song. But this man had the power to *hurt* me. Pain doesn't bother me too much since I have learned from kinky people how to reframe it as intense sensation. However, I have panic attacks in dentist's chairs. For years, I had a dentist that did not recognize Novocaine takes longer to work on me than normal. I didn't know it wasn't supposed to hurt. And now, despite knowing better and having a different relationship to pain, I hear that drill and feel pressure on my teeth and my heart starts racing, I flush, sweat, start breathing funny. Every time I go to the dentist, I have to warn them that I am like this, debasing myself further than my already-low patient status. I always leave feeling chastised for my poor mental fortitude, not to mention my terrible teeth. Despite a current strict dental regimen, my lackadaisical training in basic dental hygiene as a child has not served me well. I feel morally judged and have been found lacking.
At the hospital, my friend had her gallbladder removed. I was there for her recovery period. The nurse was very serious and patronizing. I get that my friend just woke up from anesthesia and was on heavy drugs, but the nurse had no time to smile at our joking. Apparently laughter has no place in the hospital. Chastened once again, we made it out of there.
There is something about paying people to hurt you. Pain is a funny thing. In some settings, it is considered a symptom of violence. In other cases, it indicates growth or healing. But I don't treat my tattoo artist (who I love!) nearly the same way I treat my doctor. The current for-profit model of health care doesn't help. I feel rushed in and out. I have to write everything down before hand, otherwise I may miss something in my five minutes with the doctor. One handy trick I've learned is to never sit on the exam table if you can help it. Doctors treat you more like a person when you are sitting in a chair.
I have only had insurance for about a year and a half now. Some things I am super impressed with, like being able to afford my medicine. Other things creep me out, like when my doctor expected me to know that a certain test wasn't appropriate for me. Not only do I have to pay money for his services, but now I am supposed to know what I need before I get there? Talk about socializing the cost.
This week, none of the visits to various places of medical practice were horrible. Mostly they were uncomfortable and unsettling. Their are very few places I feel I lack agency, and the doctor's office is one of them.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Fetish
In my line of work, people talk about their fetishes all the time. I used to find it shocking. I enjoyed learning about so many new ways to confront desire. And people get pretty specific. My current fascination is human barbequeing. I have yet to see this particular fetish enacted but the existence of it piques my curiosity.
As an anthropologist, I am interested in the utility of the term fetish. Many people are familiar with the psychological definition of the word - an object which a person derives sexual pleasure from which is not typically considered sexual. This generally has negative connotations, bleeding into the realms of perversion and pathology. The kinky community has reclaimed this word and stripped it of these overtones among themselves, instead using it to mean a type of sexual desire, even if non-traditional. It is still, however, grounded in sexuality.
Then there's the Marxist fetish, usually used in the term "commodity fetishism." This is economic rather than sexual (depending on how you read your Marx) and refers to the idea that objects are valued in terms of other objects rather than their relationship to people. Money, in this case, is the ultimate fetish. Goods become valuable not for what they do or how they are made but rather as status symbols. Marx critiqued capitalism with this term, but the classic example of the yam practices of some groups in Papua New Guinea comes to mind as well. In this case, yams are grown not to eat, but rather to be displayed as signs of status. It is important to have big yams. When I first learned of this practice, I thought it alien. Shortly thereafter, I saw a special on giant pumpkin growing in the United States and made the connection that this happens right here, although the growing of large gourds is still outside of my logic. Regardless, the relationships to these over-sized vegetables is not mediated through other objects, meaning that capitalism has a special case of commodity fetishism. But why the term fetish?
I like to think these other social scientists usurped the term from anthropology in the true bastard nature of all social sciences. Borrowing concepts and words is practically scripture. We would never get anywhere without some judicious cross-discipline fertilization. But it is the anthropological definition that interests me - an object imbued with special powers due to spiritual intervention. Historically, the term has been othering, separating enlightened Euro-American traditions from the more "primitive" cultures being studied. Pretty quickly, however, Christian relics were subjected to the same analysis, perhaps in a further intellectual distancing from religious superstition, relying on the (sarcastically) superior logic of cold science. I am neither anti-science or anti-religion, valuing and being skeptical of both. But I find the notion intriguing. Recently, the spiritual aspects have fallen away somewhat, instead focusing on the extra-material powers of an object in itself, rather than because it is an incarnation of a spirit. It is easy to see how objects accumulate power. Heirlooms act as both touchstones for memory and as carriers of some residue of their former owners. Wedding rings, photographs, diplomas - any of these can hold the essence of some power beyond their role in signification. It is easy to see this in the way wedding rings are treated after an acrimonious breakup. There is some bad mojo attached to them that cannot truly be cleansed.
Except. I am interested in the confluence of Marxist fetishism with anthropological fetishism. It seems as if money wipes the slate clean, divesting an object of its power. In a consumer culture, we are encouraged to feel attached to material goods (at least for a brief period), to view them as receptacles for our personal energy and identity. But an object's history begins when it enters our personal sphere. Despite the fact it is a common belief that material items hold energy, as demonstrated by the hesitance of some to buy a secondhand wedding ring, it is as if the item magically appeared without any history prior to the point of purchase. In some circles, this is changing. People are focusing on how goods are made, who makes them, under what conditions. This is most noticeable to me in terms of food, but that may just be the circles I run in.
This brings me back to the sexual fetish. For those who have never shopped for sex toys, I encourage you to try it. The variety is overwhelming. It seems as if every taste is catered to and, in some cases, created. How do you know you don't need a vibrator than spins *and* flicks *and* lights up? Toys become fetish objects. Rather than being (or sometimes, in conjunction with being) invested with spiritual energy, toys gain an erotic energy which carry over through usage and time.
The term fetish has several specific meanings but the three are blended together in sex toys. I like the term fetish, although context definitely matters. I enjoy holding the concepts together, examining the role of spirituality, sexuality, and consumerism in power dynamics.
As an anthropologist, I am interested in the utility of the term fetish. Many people are familiar with the psychological definition of the word - an object which a person derives sexual pleasure from which is not typically considered sexual. This generally has negative connotations, bleeding into the realms of perversion and pathology. The kinky community has reclaimed this word and stripped it of these overtones among themselves, instead using it to mean a type of sexual desire, even if non-traditional. It is still, however, grounded in sexuality.
Then there's the Marxist fetish, usually used in the term "commodity fetishism." This is economic rather than sexual (depending on how you read your Marx) and refers to the idea that objects are valued in terms of other objects rather than their relationship to people. Money, in this case, is the ultimate fetish. Goods become valuable not for what they do or how they are made but rather as status symbols. Marx critiqued capitalism with this term, but the classic example of the yam practices of some groups in Papua New Guinea comes to mind as well. In this case, yams are grown not to eat, but rather to be displayed as signs of status. It is important to have big yams. When I first learned of this practice, I thought it alien. Shortly thereafter, I saw a special on giant pumpkin growing in the United States and made the connection that this happens right here, although the growing of large gourds is still outside of my logic. Regardless, the relationships to these over-sized vegetables is not mediated through other objects, meaning that capitalism has a special case of commodity fetishism. But why the term fetish?
I like to think these other social scientists usurped the term from anthropology in the true bastard nature of all social sciences. Borrowing concepts and words is practically scripture. We would never get anywhere without some judicious cross-discipline fertilization. But it is the anthropological definition that interests me - an object imbued with special powers due to spiritual intervention. Historically, the term has been othering, separating enlightened Euro-American traditions from the more "primitive" cultures being studied. Pretty quickly, however, Christian relics were subjected to the same analysis, perhaps in a further intellectual distancing from religious superstition, relying on the (sarcastically) superior logic of cold science. I am neither anti-science or anti-religion, valuing and being skeptical of both. But I find the notion intriguing. Recently, the spiritual aspects have fallen away somewhat, instead focusing on the extra-material powers of an object in itself, rather than because it is an incarnation of a spirit. It is easy to see how objects accumulate power. Heirlooms act as both touchstones for memory and as carriers of some residue of their former owners. Wedding rings, photographs, diplomas - any of these can hold the essence of some power beyond their role in signification. It is easy to see this in the way wedding rings are treated after an acrimonious breakup. There is some bad mojo attached to them that cannot truly be cleansed.
Except. I am interested in the confluence of Marxist fetishism with anthropological fetishism. It seems as if money wipes the slate clean, divesting an object of its power. In a consumer culture, we are encouraged to feel attached to material goods (at least for a brief period), to view them as receptacles for our personal energy and identity. But an object's history begins when it enters our personal sphere. Despite the fact it is a common belief that material items hold energy, as demonstrated by the hesitance of some to buy a secondhand wedding ring, it is as if the item magically appeared without any history prior to the point of purchase. In some circles, this is changing. People are focusing on how goods are made, who makes them, under what conditions. This is most noticeable to me in terms of food, but that may just be the circles I run in.
This brings me back to the sexual fetish. For those who have never shopped for sex toys, I encourage you to try it. The variety is overwhelming. It seems as if every taste is catered to and, in some cases, created. How do you know you don't need a vibrator than spins *and* flicks *and* lights up? Toys become fetish objects. Rather than being (or sometimes, in conjunction with being) invested with spiritual energy, toys gain an erotic energy which carry over through usage and time.
The term fetish has several specific meanings but the three are blended together in sex toys. I like the term fetish, although context definitely matters. I enjoy holding the concepts together, examining the role of spirituality, sexuality, and consumerism in power dynamics.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Sexy Academics
I have always been fascinated by sexuality and ritual. All of my work seems to return to those two motifs. I try to include social justice issues like domestic violence or access to health care, but after the dust has settled from the field, it comes back to that. My initial proposal for my PhD work was to study the ways sex workers in Texas constructed community and relied on social networks (of the people variety, not blogs) to meet everyday needs, like childcare, medical care, or self care. For a variety of reasons, it didn't work out.
Trying an alternate strategy, I began canvassing local "adult" bookstores, trying out the practicality of examining consumption patterns of sexual materials. I stumbled onto the local BDSM scene. In the end, it worked out for me, as it does for most anthropologists. Given enough years in grad school, a budding anthropologist is bound to find something to write home about, even if it isn't what she set out to study.
I find my research deeply satisfying. I love talking about it, thinking about, and on some days, even writing about it. I am also very conscious of it being "sexy." I would be obscuring the truth if I didn't say that this was part of the allure when I first started. I felt I was being subversive just by studying sexuality. I think that this is still mostly true. What I didn't count on was how distracting being sexy is. Some days I feel like saying, "Yes, it's about sex, but that's only the nuts and bolts. The really interesting stuff is so much more about identity, community, resistance, and acquiescence." All the scalpels and single-tailed whips aside, it boils down to human experience.
Every person I have told about my research seems interested. Most of the initial questions involve some permutation of "What's the craziest thing you have seen?" followed closely by "But do you think it is normal/ okay/ right?" Sometimes I pretend I would get the same response if I had worked with pastoralists in Central Asia. I imagine people questioning the fundamental goodness of their subsistence patterns in reaction to my witty insights. The interesting thing, to me, is that people then go on to confess their own experiences or desires.
I occasionally worry that the sexiness of my topic obscures my theoretical underpinnings. I also worry about alienating people. I have very little filter and often presume that everyone is as comfortable discussing Foucault as discussing the finer points of orgasm. I usually make people uncomfortable one way or the other. A little discomfort is good for the soul but I don't want to shut down dialogue. I don't want to be dismissed because I "only" study sexuality. Birth, death, spirituality, gender, power, sexuality all have very different meanings depending on one's culture and social location. That is the crux of anthropology.
I brashly chose to work on an explicitly sexual topic, idealistically thinking that it wouldn't matter. I know now it does matter, and I think it makes it all the more important. Trivializing or obsessing over sex takes it out of context when it is deeply contextual. It is sometimes disheartening when people get fixated on the mechanics but I think every little bit of openness about sexuality and desire creates a space for a discussion of their significance.
It remains to be seen how this will play out in the larger scheme of my professional life. Even blogging about it makes me a little nervous. But I figure my dissertation will be published soon and there is no pretending that it is not about sexuality. I wouldn't change it, sexy academics and all. Hopefully once I've grabbed your attention with my risque topic, I can keep it by offering challenging interpretations of the human condition.
Trying an alternate strategy, I began canvassing local "adult" bookstores, trying out the practicality of examining consumption patterns of sexual materials. I stumbled onto the local BDSM scene. In the end, it worked out for me, as it does for most anthropologists. Given enough years in grad school, a budding anthropologist is bound to find something to write home about, even if it isn't what she set out to study.
I find my research deeply satisfying. I love talking about it, thinking about, and on some days, even writing about it. I am also very conscious of it being "sexy." I would be obscuring the truth if I didn't say that this was part of the allure when I first started. I felt I was being subversive just by studying sexuality. I think that this is still mostly true. What I didn't count on was how distracting being sexy is. Some days I feel like saying, "Yes, it's about sex, but that's only the nuts and bolts. The really interesting stuff is so much more about identity, community, resistance, and acquiescence." All the scalpels and single-tailed whips aside, it boils down to human experience.
Every person I have told about my research seems interested. Most of the initial questions involve some permutation of "What's the craziest thing you have seen?" followed closely by "But do you think it is normal/ okay/ right?" Sometimes I pretend I would get the same response if I had worked with pastoralists in Central Asia. I imagine people questioning the fundamental goodness of their subsistence patterns in reaction to my witty insights. The interesting thing, to me, is that people then go on to confess their own experiences or desires.
I occasionally worry that the sexiness of my topic obscures my theoretical underpinnings. I also worry about alienating people. I have very little filter and often presume that everyone is as comfortable discussing Foucault as discussing the finer points of orgasm. I usually make people uncomfortable one way or the other. A little discomfort is good for the soul but I don't want to shut down dialogue. I don't want to be dismissed because I "only" study sexuality. Birth, death, spirituality, gender, power, sexuality all have very different meanings depending on one's culture and social location. That is the crux of anthropology.
I brashly chose to work on an explicitly sexual topic, idealistically thinking that it wouldn't matter. I know now it does matter, and I think it makes it all the more important. Trivializing or obsessing over sex takes it out of context when it is deeply contextual. It is sometimes disheartening when people get fixated on the mechanics but I think every little bit of openness about sexuality and desire creates a space for a discussion of their significance.
It remains to be seen how this will play out in the larger scheme of my professional life. Even blogging about it makes me a little nervous. But I figure my dissertation will be published soon and there is no pretending that it is not about sexuality. I wouldn't change it, sexy academics and all. Hopefully once I've grabbed your attention with my risque topic, I can keep it by offering challenging interpretations of the human condition.
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