by Kathleen Quiring on July 29, 2010
Hey there, faithful readers,
I’ve got a post on Engaged Marriage today about thinking about time from a more feminine perspective. I discuss the idea that while we are generally encouraged in Western society to be productive – to accomplish as much as we can, to achieve great things, to be efficient – I want to considering the value of being fruitful instead.
Before sending the post to Dustin, I had my husband look over it. When he finished reading, he asked me, “But what exactly is feminine about this way of thinking?”
I’ve been trying to answer that question for both of us. Mostly, I think the answer comes from our instincts: we intuitively know that productivity is a masculine virtue, whereas fruitfulness is a feminine one.* But I thought I’d expand a little on the connections between fruitfulness and femininity.
I was first introduced to the idea of fruitfulness versus productivity when I started looking into New Feminism. I wrote a post on New Feminism, outlining some of the main tenets of the movement. The idea of fruitfulness struck me the most, which was described as a process that requires patience and collaboration. Fruitfulness cannot be measured, only appreciated.
I imagine that fruitfulness involves things like fostering relationships and deepening empathy and understanding. While productivity is concerned with manufacturing artifacts that can be quantified, fruitfulness is like childbirth and pregnancy: it’s organic, slow, painful, mysterious, and immeasurably beautiful. You can’t measure the worth of a new life. You just appreciate it.
I am starting to think that all art is the result of fruitfulness. The creation of art is always feminine – it’s always a kind of birth. I think there’s a reason the Greek muses were female: there’s something inherently feminine about the creation of music, poetry, literature, sculpture, and dance.
I know that I am hopelessly under-qualified to talk about these things, and I hope smarter readers will forgive me for my ignorance. These are all new ideas to me, but I’m excited to explore them some more. I intend to think and write more on the subject in the future, and hope to learn from you guys and from further reading.
Well, how about you check out my post on Engaged Marriage and let us know what you think? What are your thoughts?
*To clarify: I’m not saying that men automatically are or ought to be productive, only that a male-dominated society is naturally going to lean towards productivity instead of fruitfulness.
Image courtesy of Silkegb.
by Kathleen Quiring on July 26, 2010
On the way home from work the other day, I heard Kesha’s “Your Love is my Drug” on the radio for the first time. (I know. I’m a little behind the times. That song was probably released weeks ago. I tend not to keep up with this stuff).
For the first verse or two, I was just caught up in how catchy the song was. Your love, your love, your love is my drug. Whoo! Catchy stuff. The deejay had warned me that a Kesha song was coming up, so I wasn’t expecting quality lyrics.
At first, I didn’t pay much attention to the lame drug metaphors – “my heart is fried,” “love sick crack head,” etc – they were too cheesy and unconvincing to catch my attention. Besides, who hasn’t felt a little “addicted” to their partner before? But I was struck by the bridge:
I don’t care what people say / The rush is worth the price I pay / I get so high when you’re with me / But crash and crave you when you leave
Hmm. Really? This is the kind of relationship we are celebrating with this song – a volatile, intensely dependent one characterized by temporary, euphoric highs and pathetic, desperate lows? The “price” she pays is constant emotional “crashes”? I found it troubling, to say the least.
I was immediately reminded of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight. (Confession: I read all of the Twilight books. More accurately, I devoured all of the Twilight books. I ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Yum. Delectable. Yes, I am one of Those Girls). And since of course you didn’t read them because you’re way too sophisticated for that, you might not be aware that in the first book, Bella is described as Edward’s “personal brand of crack.” Despite his better judgment and concern for her safety, Edward can’t stay away from Bella. Edward knows he’s putting her life in danger by entangling her in the world of vampires, but he can’t help himself: he’s desperately addicted. He can’t stay away. Romantic, right? Substance abuse makes for such charming metaphors.
After hearing the song and reflecting on the book, I began to wonder how widespread this love-as-drug paradigm is. Is this the dominant message teenagers are getting about love: that it ought to feel like an addiction? That true love brings wild ecstasy when the beloved is around, but sickness and maddening frustration when he’s not? That any relationship that doesn’t bring these intense emotions is less than ideal?
I find this concerning. I think this is a dangerous portrayal of love, and one that needs to be corrected with much more positive, realistic examples. Yes, the Kesha song and vampire stories and compelling and interesting and all that, and I’m not saying we need to ban them or anything absurd like that. However, young people need to know that these fantasy stories are not the ideal for real life. Real love is not a drug. Not every moment with your beloved is going to rock your socks off. Some time spent apart from your beloved is healthy and necessary. And if you can’t function without your partner, you’ve got some serious problems.
Of course, I’m preaching to the choir with all this. You all know that real relationships are often mundane and frustrating, and that any relationship that leaves you “crashed” when you’re apart is grossly unhealthy. I’m just saying that I was reminded this week why it’s important to tell true stories about relationships. We need songs, books and movies that reflect reality too. They need to include partnerships that are beautiful because they are mature – because they encourage both partners do be more creative and courageous, and because they last through both tragedy and banality.
I’m down with the occasional fluffy fantasy-romance and energetic love song. But we shouldn’t live off of them exclusively. We need a touch of reality every once in a while. And it’s my goal to provide an occasional dose of charming (or not-so-charming) reality.