The view from the windowsill

As a child I spent a lot of time playing by the windowsill. I remember rainy days with my head pressed against the glass, breathing onto the window to make it fog up and then drawing happy faces, flowers and houses into the condensation there. Drawing idyllic domestic scenes was a favourite past time of mine, besides it seemed like it was always too wet to go outside.

I remember autumn days sitting by the windowsill, reading a book while the wind whipped the brown and orange leaves into a whirling frenzy outside. Pulling my too big jumper over my knees and right down over my toes – stretching it until it hung low and baggy. Too cold to go outside and who could be bothered anyway?

I remember setting up house by the windowsill for my dolls and lego. A windowsill is a perfectly straight bench with finite parameters and perfect for a temporary toy laden lodging. I’d play there while the sun shone outside, or even if it didn’t just playing and always keeping my eye on the outside world, just in case.

I remember being a child waiting by the window, with my chin resting on the windowsill watching the sun disappear behind the rooftops of the houses opposite ours. Waiting for Dad to come home from work – always wondering whether he’d make it – always thinking that he wouldn’t. My view from the windowsill a reminder that things don’t always happen on time.

I remember sleepless nights, as a teenager awake way past the witching hour. 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am would see me with headphones in, and my cheek pressed firmly against the coldness of the glass as I watched the street light illuminate the corner block. Indie music on an obscure AM radio station blared into my open eyed dreams as I wondered about the sleeping world outside my window.

Spring now, a kaleidoscope of sunlit hues playing on the windowsill and tinkling brightly into the room. I’m still keeping my eye on the outside world from this windowsill. I’m just not quite ready to go there yet.

Choice and control

I didn’t post a Musical Monday last week. It was a busy time at school, I was exhausted and most importantly I couldn’t think of how I wanted to phrase my post. I still can’t to tell you the truth, but I won’t let that stop me this week. This is a long one.

Last week, I posted an entry about the child model Maddison Gabriel and mused about the fashion industry using someone who is not a woman to represent women on the catwalk. Obviously, I was pissed about it, with good reason I think. Then I finished up that post with a Tori Amos suggestion that those girls like Britney Spears, girls who had lost their way, bare crotch girls who behave badly, need a mother. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. By lately, I mean, my whole adult life.

The Maddion Gabriel thing from a week or so ago highlighted to me one thing with absolute certainty and that is that: the status quo does. Not. Work. For. Women. and anyone who thinks it does is completely berko. It doesn’t work in the first world and it doesn’t work in the 3rd world. I shouldn’t have to spell out why it doesn’t work but in case you need it have a look at violence on the streets, sex, religion, fashion, education, corporation, politics and capitalism for a taste of that why. I don’t even think it works for men either, to tell you the truth – but if we’re going to compare (and yes we are) then well, you’re not seeing 12 year old boys being sexualised by the media. You wouldn’t see men standing for that either – which is an important point. Us girls, in terms of media representation and politics allow ourselves to be degraded – and then some of us actively take part in that degradation. That’s why you have someone like Maddison Gabriel saying that it’s all she ever wanted to do. That old gem: “It’s my choice”.

People get confused a bit about the difference between women’s choice and women making the only choice they can in a situation that is not quite the best. I get confused because some choices seem really dumb, also some choices are applauded and some are not. For instance, musically speaking why is it accepted and applauded for a woman to wear a skimpy bikini in a soft porn video clip while allowing some fat pig of a producer to write their songs for them and market them to young girls and horny boys in a way that has nothing to do with music at all. Whereas it’s not quite the same for a curvaceous, outspoken lesbian woman to write her own lyrics that are political and demonstrative. The first will have a lot of success because she fits into the accepted role of female as valued by both men and women – the other will struggle both musically and socially. Which choice would you make, the easy road or the high (and harder) road? Taking the easy road propagates the myth – taking the high road changes things but ultimately means that you might be ostricised. Some choices are easier to make than others and some choices are made for those who don’t have the guts to stand up and fight against them.

When I quoted that Tori Amos little ditty about Britney needing a mother, I wasn’t really thinking about the tennis club attending, SUV driving (quick, key it!), latte drinking, hot MILFS of the Eastern suburbs. I was thinking about women paying attention to who we are, and where we have come from rather than what society wants us to be. We are rather important to the human race, us little ladies but unfortunately the story changed with Adam and Eve and we’re all a bit lost now I fear, it’s not just Britney. The story that women came of the rib is fiction, we never came of the rib, instead women carry BOTH male and female within us and so, perhaps rather than Adam’s rib producing Eve it is actually Eve that produces Adam and in fact all of humanity. Not just a one trick pony mind you – it’s happening right now somewhere. I’m of course talking about the Earth and universe itself which produces all (and personified by woman or mother) and which was once worshiped in its own right favoured only much, much later for another deity: God (personified by man or father).

I’m not going to turn this into religious bashing because this is purely social commentary but the point is – civilisations are built and ruined on the back of a story but stories change, the way we live now – our politics, our degradation or choices or whatever, is due basically to a fundamental shift away from the way we viewed those stories back then not because we are living in the way it should be or because it is the natural order of all things. Things change – the way of the world is not ever absolute. I’m saying this to make a rather pertinent point about stories (both his and hers) here – not to point fingers. We both have our stories and us women just happened to forget ours.

This is why when you have someone a little bit different making a big ruckus about the way things are and how they should change then you just have to listen because it’s apparent that the way things are has only worked for so long because us girls have accepted it, owned it and are now producing it ourselves.

I truly think that the most effective form of control is not overt but that which has the consent of whom you’re controlling. I mean, it’s harder to control those that kick and scream and bite and are willing to die just to get away from that control than it is to control one who not only agrees but comes up with their own punishment.

Why then, do women partake in it? Is it because we’re making the best of a bad situation? Is it because we’ve forgotten where we come from? Your guess is as good as mine.

But back to music. I wanted to go back to that idea of woman in skimpy bikini in a soft porn video clip singing songs that aren’t her own versus a woman with an opinion and a musical instrument. One sells more than the other. One is loved more by men. One is revered more – but it’s not because of her music. If Meatloaf sang that Umbrella song by Rhianna then he’d be laughed off stage – career over (okay it’s already over). But the song is a hit, so obviously something is not adding up here! The song is not a hit because the song is fantastic, alas the song is the most annoying, overplayed piece of garbage I’ve heard in a long time. If a serious artist sang it while wearing jeans and boots and who didn’t shave their pits and then gave an interview talking about gender politics then it wouldn’t be a hit at all.

So what exactly is the function of these sexy women in music? It’s not the music. It’s the sex – and why indeed isn’t the sex the same for male artists then? While JT might dance up a storm and [insert boy band here] might make the girls scream there isn’t quite the same level of porn factor going on as is done with women in music. Men are sexy but the level of degradation isn’t the same – not by a long shot and I won’t hear one word that says otherwise. I’ve got nothing against sexing it up, but then again I think that there are a lot of things that are sexy apart from the greased up plastic boobs of the video clips of today. I’d like to “bring sexy back” in terms of musical ability or being able to convey emotion, or being outspoken or funny or strong and talented or something like that. I’d like to see sexy happen in a way that isn’t about women doing whatever they are doing right now on video clips on Saturday morning on channel 10. That stuff, it’s not only bullshit but it’s harmful to our self image and we’ve had a long time of it and now it’s time for everyone to realise that all of us being outraged by Maddison Gabriel being so young and being a model and sexy video clips on Saturday morning television are actually related. The culture is ripe for Maddison Gabriel type “stuff” – haven’t you ever wondered about why?

So what do we do girls (and for anyone who cares about us)? Do you say something and risk being ostracised or do you just let it happen and partake in it? Or, do we find little avenues in the way we live now to carve new ways into the future?

Speaking of avenues in the way things are now. A few weeks ago while watching Australian Idol one of the contestants sang the song that I’m about to play for MM today. It’s a great song. I mean GREAT! It’s not quite Idol though. It’s too confronting for idol – it was performed originally by a woman who weighs over 200 pounds, says what she thinks, is a lesbian and rather non-conformist and totally sexy. Obviously, Beth Ditto not going to make it big in today’s mainstream Umbrella type musical climate. Obviously *that* particular Idol contestant was voted out the next week – not because of the context of the song and not because of Beth Ditto, I’d doubt that anyone even knows her, but because that performance itself was very different… It wasn’t a great performance, granted – but it was just too different for Idol anyway. And that’s the point – you can see how choices are sometimes made for us. If that contestant had performed a more conventional, sexier routine she might still be there this week, closer to her musical dream – but then I might not have heard the song. Funny how things like choices and control work.

Before I play the song I have to finish with this. Something that is actually at the core of all my beliefs in gender politics – men are women ..perhaps we should never, ever look at gender as a form of labeling – the world would be a far better place if we recognised that everyone is individual, no one is better than any other, everyone is scared, everyone is looking for a way to make their lives better, to love, to live or just to survive. Everyone is the same and different at the same time. A much better way to live – if only, huh?

The world unfortunately is drawn in gender lines no matter how you view it and there are still inequalities that need to be addressed and by God (or Adam’s rib) I will have my say as should you, whether you agree or not.

So, on that and closer to the song. I came across a quote by Beth Ditto, lead vocalist for The Gossip on gender and difference.

“Women aren’t cats, we aren’t pets, we are just people trying to cross the freaking street to get an ice-cream cone.”

I like it. Basically we’re really not so different are we? Maybe the way we are viewed should be addressed now (instead of swept under that oh so reductive ‘but it’s their choice’ statement you hear so often) so that girls who are still children now have a bit of a chance to realise that these badly behaved girls and soft porn video clip stars are actually not really what we want to be. Or are they? Our choice? Quite – let’s make better ones.

Standing in the Way of control – The Gossip
(a song about Gay rights actually, but it works for most situations I think).

Needing a Mother.

Here we have Maddison Gabriel. I bet if you were single you’d buy her a drink (or two) and flirt shamelessly with her if you came across her – or maybe you’d just sit back and perve – you’re allowed it’s what boys do, don’t worry! I mean she has a great set of pins and I can say that because well she’s on a catwalk and she’s wearing a miniskirt and well…dude she’s a model and she’s there so that gay men can admire the dress, women can feel inferior (and yes okay admire the fashion) and straight men can oggle her legs. I know I’m not too far off the mark.

The problem is that she’s twelve.

This is a problem. This is a BIG problem because if a 12 year old is the best representative as the face of Gold Coast Fashion Week then it’s no wonder that any women or girl over the age of 14 is completely and utterly fucked when it comes to body image. How in the hell can someone who might not even have her first period yet be a “model” that represents the rest of us? Kids are not the same as adults and I have a humongous problem with the ‘if she’s enjoying it then let her do it’ argument that has been passed around. Okay, smartarses would you let your 12 year old get married to your 45 year old neighbour if she said she wanted to? Probably not..why? Because 12 is a kid and 12 has no idea what 12 wants and 12 needs to be protected even if 12 looks more like 18.

You don’t see 12 year old boys representing 25 year old men on the catwalk do you? That’s because
1) Society is not obsessed with men looking young.
2) Boys don’t look like men.

Girls don’t look like women either but this girl looks older than her years and that’s the point. She has all the youth of 12 but with a body that looks slightly older no woman wants to actually look like a 12 year old tom boy but take a body of a 17 or 18 year old with the skin of a 12 year old and you have one big confusing message for women that is: “woman” as represented by the media can NEVER, EVER be achieved no matter how hard we try. Since “woman” represented by the media is our primary image/model for women in this society then that’s a pretty fucked up message. The other prime image of women for women are our mothers, but more about that later.

Enter Maddison Gabriel; the perfect unreachable target which is the whole message of the modeling industry if you ask me. 30 year old skin does not have the same elasticity as 12 year old skin, though we’d love it to. There is a rather dangerous propensity for the media to admire and reward females who look younger than their age. Take a look at the straight up and down models who have graced the catwalks over the last 20 or so years. Thin, boyish and very weak looking. This to me screams of young girl. I don’t understand how they can be our “models” but there you have it – apparently it makes the dresses hang better. I laugh my head off at this since it’s actually women who end up wearing fashion on the streets, not bloody coat hangers.

Anyway, Maddison Gabriel has come out laughing about the whole deal because she thinks it’s funny that anyone would be fussed with such a thing. Her mother is also perplexed by the furor in the media and is feeling as though next people will come out and say that she’s a bad mother – when all she’s doing is letting her daughter do something that SHE wants to do. Well said mum, I mean child stars are never known for going COMPLETELY off the rails are they? *cough*

You know what I wanted to do when I was 12? Marry Tom Selleck and eat only hubba bubba gum for the rest of my life. Yep, being 12 I really should have been allowed to pursue those dreams of mine. I’m still upset by not being allowed to eat only bubble gum and marry Tom Selleck – instead my mother made to stay in school and eat three balanced meals a day.

Speaking of needing mothers.

The best comment I have heard on Britney Spears has come from Tori Amos at her concert on Tuesday at Hamer Hall where she sang a little ditty as her response to the media laughing about Britney Spears. If you click on the link it takes you to Perez Hilton’s site where there is audio of the song and the lyrics.

Britney, they set you up
But you drank from their cup
Britney, they set you up
Oh, but this is what it looks like, love,
This is what is looks like

When a star falls down
When a star falls down

Well, maybe you’re a mother
But you still need your mother
Yes, I may be a mother
But I still need a mother
To pick me up
Yes, to pick me up

When it all falls down

I’m not one for excessive lyric posting but I thought this was all extremely topical not only for Britney and Maddison but for too many young female Hollywood stars who have fallen down in a heap over the past 5 years. Girls, what is going on? What are we becoming? Meg White has also eluded to this issue in the song Passive Manipulation where she sings

Women, listen to your mothers
don’t just succumb to the wishes of your brothers
take a step back, take a look at one another
you need to know the difference, between a father and a lover

I know this is turning into a bit of a Musical Monday post but I have to say, yes I think there is definitely a place for politics in music and when put so eloquently then yes I agree. I found the Britney performance and subsequent media feeding frenzy sad because girls when Pete Doherty does it, people aren’t laughing quite as hard at him are they? He’s not regarded as pathetic, or as unhinged as Brit – though, clearly while he is talented he is that pathetic and unhinged.

I also came across this quote where Tori (again) says of Britney and other young starlets like her

“You see a lot of women today — maybe in magazines — crawling out of cars and thinking it’s sexy,” Amos recently told Spinner. “[And] for the most part, you don’t hear guys going, ‘Wow! I am just blown away by that beauty or by that woman’s way. There’s something about her.’ No. Do you know what they do? They laugh. They laugh when we’re spreading our legs and crawling out of a car. It’s tragic. Ultimately, we demean ourselves.”

What the hell is going on with these girls? Is it a lack of mothering that is to blame? Are we trying too hard to keep up with the boys? Are women just dumb? Is culture ripe for tearing women down while we support and encourage that with our own actions? Have we been set up? Should our role models be our mothers rather than our daughters and younger sisters?

Monday morning, alone time musings.

It’s funny sort of morning, warm and sunny but there’s chill in the whip of the wind that will later develop into a blistery grey day. I’m standing to the side of a weathered basket ball court supervising children run back and forth in a seemingly endless relay. It’s 9.15am and their faces are already shiny with sweat – the sky is a perfect expanse of blue and judging from my weepy eyes, spring is definitely in the air. I’m switching balance from foot to booted foot – and thinking about life and being alone. Not exactly a cheery Monday morning thought. I know these things are never really permanent unless you decide they are, but this feels permanent.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of being alone than right now. Friends with children have become unaccessible. Phone conversations reduced to “so how are you?” and before I can have my say it’s “…oh God, baby crying, gotta go bye”. I’ve simply stopped saying anything about myself at all – instead I ask about them. As yet, they haven’t noticed the change but it’s just easier for everyone concerned. God knows lack of adult conversation means they don’t speak to anyone else either.

Then there are the ‘too busy to talk’ friends, and the ‘last ditch effort to inject some life into their lives by transferring overseas’ friends and the ‘not as close as we used to be’ friends. I’m just feeling a bit displaced and lost – is this an ‘almost 30′ thing? Is this normal?

Apart from the usual coffee and dinner occurrences I find myself spending a lot of time doing things alone and while I’m not bothered most of the time – it’s just the feeling that people aren’t *there* for me anymore is what is making me question whether things will always be like this. Maybe I’m just being melodramatic…

As for melancholy moods and Musical Mondays I think I’ve found the perfect song for imagining you’re floating mid air above a field of daisies or something nice like that. I wish I was doing it now. An occasional spattering of clouds have settled overhead and I’d really just love to lay down somewhere and make up stories in my head about them while listening to Mazzy Star and thinking about life.

Fade Into You – Mazzy Star

Time Wounds All Heals

There’s always been something problematic for me in that notion of time heals all wounds. Time allows you to stop being so emotional – and that can be a godsend. But the distance created by time turns memories into nostalgia – and this can be bittersweet. Sometimes the distance created by time gives you a kind of perspective that allows you to see all the things that you missed initially in minute detail, slow motion…frame by frame. That’s rarely good. And perhaps as you move further away from action and into memory you fill in the gaps with untruths that somehow become real across time. That’s rarely good either. As the hard edge of emotion wears away you’ve got more thinking, rationalising, wondering to do. Time has given me a lot of time to think. Sometimes I feel like I’m living on 3am thoughts. Again, not so good.

I’ve had time do tricky things to my memories. I’ve had the jack in a box phenomenon – where memories resurface when you least expect them to. But perhaps that wasn’t time at all – it was just me protecting myself. I don’t know, there seems to be a lot I don’t know. You can’t blame time for everything…and you can’t protect yourself forever either.

Just after my father died, before time allowed me any perspective I thought about the death all the time. I replayed those harrowing moments of finding out and of dealing with the fallout of a mother who was ‘left alone’ and a brother who was ‘too young’. I felt a lot of guilt as well. Guilt of not being a better daughter, of things I’d said when I was mad – stupid teenage things, which of course is what I was back then. Things that I’d even thought to myself and never uttered came back to haunt me too. Rationally I realise that thoughts cannot harm a person, but I also don’t fully believe that they won’t either. That’s one thing, time has still not allowed me grace of forgiving myself.

After a couple of years I was able to let go of the automatic rewind, replay button in my head. I categorised select moments instead – into genre even: Happy, Sad, Drama, Foreign, Black comedy, Cult classics, Documentary, Nostalgia. That was a whole lot better than automatic replay but it’s not wholey self guided either. Yesterday I picked up an apple and was transported back to being 5 or 6 and watching my dad carefully slice up thin slivers of peeled granny smith apples, drop them into a glass and then pour red wine all over them. The wine soaks into the apple takes away their tartness – what you’re left with is a crisp apple infused with wine. He hands me a fork and I am allowed to have one but bargain for more. It makes me feel sentimental and I immediately want to share it with him again, but can’t. It’s sad.

Perhaps time just gives you time to pick good and proper at your scabs. Maybe time wounds all heals. Or time wounds, all heals. But I don’t know if we ever really heal back to new, do you?

So Happy fathers day, Dad. It’s been a long time but I still think about you every single day.