Lady I listened to #2: Lindy West

I haven't been writing about my feminist journey with the regularity that I'd hoped. Excuse me while America implodes.

What can I say about Lindy West other than that she's my hero? 

Lindy has played a big part in making me want to examine my privileges, making me want to take this journey for myself and for my daughter and for just plain waking me up. She's younger than I am, but I think of her as my teacher.

I first became a fan nearly ten years ago when she was a film critic at Seattle's weekly paper, The Stranger. I followed Dan Savage from The Onion back to his home paper and there I found Lindy. She was the funniest, the coolest, the smartest writer in a paper that was having a golden age full of such folks.

Her public feud with Dan (detailed in her book, Shrill) was one of the first times I felt myself needing to challenge my own preconceptions about feminism. 

Why did she have to fight with Dan? He was her boss, her editor and someone who was doing important work on LGBT issues. So why couldn't she just back off, sit down and let him be? She was younger than Dan. She was his employee. Couldn't she just go back to writing her movie reviews and be "nice"?

I hate that those ideas occurred to me, but they did. I have always considered myself a good guy and an ally of women. I have a wonderful mom who raised me to be full of respect, especially toward women. I don't call anyone "bitch" or expect sandwiches. I'd never hit or demean a woman, use pick up lines or shame anyone. But when Lindy called Dan out on his fat-shaming antics, I saw so many other "good" guys turn on her and, honestly, I could have gone that way.

They liked her writing and were on her side until they disagreed with her, then she was every ugly epithet you can call a woman.They attacked her and it became personal. It got ugly. Misogyny reared its head and I could tell that many of them weren't traditionally meat-headed "womanizer" types, but otherwise-liberal "nice guys" like myself that nevertheless refused to give her a fair shake.

Lindy doesn't need my help, but watching her has sure helped me. If you don't know, she's the troll-slayer supreme. She moved onwards and upwards from The Stranger, writing for Jezebel and then huge publications like Salon, The Guardian and The New York Times. Watching her get online-attacked (death threats, rape threats, trolls impersonating her dead father, a seething slime river of hatred that I can't even contemplate) by thousands of men - and trouncing them all, badly - has taught me much of what I know about feminism. And woke me to the fact that standing by made me part of the problem.

I read Lindy every day. She's hilarious. She's smarter than I'll ever be. She's just an amazing human and I'll say it again: she's my hero. I keep looking to her and she keeps helping me be a better feminist.

Read her book, Shrill, read her frequent posts on The Guardian, read her amazing piece in the New York Times following this horrendous election. Read everything you can.

Here's a juicy excerpt:

"...there’s something poetically satisfying about the first judicial and legislative blows to Trump’s regime coming from a group whose power he so plainly underestimates. The president’s disdain for women feels faintly more personal than some of his more perfunctory bigotries (though no more destructive): he has clearly spent his entire life treating us as furniture, sex holes, trophies or trash. He doesn’t just want to restrict our constitutional rights; he wants to put his hand on our genitals and squeeze. He didn’t realise we had the power to squeeze back, and that oversight will hurt him."

Next post: Lindy's amazing sister-in-law, Ijeoma Oluo.

Lady I listened to #1: Senator Kamala Harris

Home with a sick kiddo, I did not get to march with the 750,000 women and men that took to the streets of Los Angeles last Saturday. (And millions more around the world!)

What I did, instead, is sit with my daughter, watching the live streams and seeing people's Facebook walls fill with wonderful, inspiring images of hopeful defiance. So many pics of thick, thick crowds.

In a way I am grateful I didn't get to march, because sitting at home, tissues in hand (mostly for snot, some for tears), we got to talk at length about why women were angry. Why mommy and her friends had gotten up and headed out so early in the morning with a trunkload of signs and why she might want to do the same some day soon.

We made a day of it, talking in grown-up ways about grown-up ideas. I hope I did OK.

We talked about elections, presidents, laws, senators and how they affect our lives. We talked about the "P word" and what it means when ladies say they won't let Trump grab theirs. We talked about the fact that women and people of color are paid less, respected less and pushed aside by American society. And we laughed at all the great and funny signs and cheered for change, hope and resistance.

We watched many powerful women give powerful speeches. Maxine Waters, Cecile Richards and Scarlett Johansson all gave rousing, meaningful speeches. I had to explain who Madonna was.

Then, we had to talk about why daddy was tearing up while Kamala Harris talked about the ways in which the march were personal for her. About how "women's issues" include climate change, immigration and national defense.

If you missed Senator Harris' speech because you were marching (yay!) or busy, I'd recommend watching it online.

Why does this blog exist?

This computer web log exists because I want to be a feminist. Or an ally, I guess? No... a feminist.

Because all one needs to do to be a feminist is to support feminism. So says the dictionary. And I do. But not as well as I could, not in the ways that humanity deserves from me.

So what are the steps for a man who wants to become a better feminist?

I Googled it:

Step 1: Shut up. Men have been talking over everyone for centuries, apparently.

OK, I am kind of failing already by starting this blog, I guess. But I mean well. And, really, this blog is not going to be about telling women anything. I don't want to make it all about me and it's not meant to dictate behavior for anyone but me. I just want to keep a record of my journey. I hope that's OK. If not, I am listening.

Step 2: Listen to women. OK, so this is where the idea for this blog really comes into play. I am 42 years old. Even with good intentions in place for most of those years, I still spend an inordinate amount of time listening to, watching, reading and playing things created by men. Because that's our culture. Because it's easy.

What I want to do for this year - for 2017 - is to listen to more women. And watch their movies. And play their games. And just hear their points of view.

I would be lying to you if I pretended that the genesis of this document were purely altruistic or selfless. I have a daughter. Her name is Ava Jean. She's 5 1/2 now and is totally, completely wonderful.She's smart, determined and focused on science and math in ways that I have never been.

As I write this, the inauguration of Donald Trump is only two days away. I am afraid for Ava. I am afraid for her future.

Here begins my year. The first year of my life in which I let women's voices drown out the others. I could do this for the rest of my life and probably still not catch up. I start now, in earnest.

My intention is to share those experiences with you as I go, writing about the women whose voices I admire and listen to and encounter. Next year at this time, I hope to be a better feminist. And a better man.

Andrew Duncan
Jan 18, 2017