_I'm currently in the middle of Nowheresville, New England visiting my DGF's parents, who live in a retirement home.  For health reasons, her mom is rarely able to leave the home.  And her father is legally blind, which prevents him from going anywhere on his own.

All of this is to explain the following unlikely circumstance in which I found myself on Sunday morning: in a Catholic church, helping escort my DGF's father to Mass.

I've only been to Mass once before, and that was a funeral Mass (or, as I incorrectly called it yesterday, a "death mass"), so this was a new experience for me.  I was instructed ahead of time not to take communion, because I'm not Catholic.  (I was baptized Christian, but this is, I learned, unsatisfactory in the eyes of the Catholic church.)  My DGF is not practicing, but was baptized Catholic, so according to her father, she was allowed to take Communion if she promised to go to confession within the next 30 days (which she was unwilling to promise).  That's right--not 31 days.  Not 35.  30.  (Later, we looked for this rule online and it seems that you actually have to have been to confession in the 30 days before receiving Communion, but we still aren't totally sure.)

Mass was short.  Like, way short.  Like under an hour short.  We went to the 11 am Mass and made it to breakfast by noon.  Perhaps because of the service's length, almost no one bothered to remove their coats.  My most recent churchgoing experience before that was an evangelical-type Baptist church, where the service always lasted over two hours, plus socializing afterward.  I kind of admired the Catholic efficiency. 

There were maybe 250 people attending mass, only five of whom were non-white.  Don't get me wrong--I'm fine with white people (some of my best friends are white people), but there was something disconcerting about being in a nearly all-white room.  (Yeah, I'm white, too.  But still.)  Interestingly, one of the five non-white people happened to be the priest, who I think was Latino, and spoke with a heavy accent.  It was kind of heartening that all these white people, the great majority of whom looked to be 60 or older, had someone of color as their religious leader--a trend that I've since learned is not uncommon in the Catholic church, since many young priests these days come from non-English-speaking countries, particularly Third World countries.

The church program (which was printed in color, something I'm not sure Protestants would allow) didn't say what was happening when in the service, so I just tried to stand, kneel, and sit when I was supposed to.  There was a great deal of ceremony involved.  Continuing to survey the attendees, I began getting a distinct sense that this particular church was more the Santorum variety of Catholic than the Kennedy variety--an impression reinforced by the advertisement of a Planned Parenthood vigil later in the week.

When it came time to take Communion, I was pretty sure that lots of people wouldn't go, given the rules about 30 days and being baptized Catholic.  But as it turned out, my DGF and I were the only people who did not take Communion.  As the people in our row quietly filed to the front of the church, we quietly did not follow them.  This was met with disapproving glances from the other parishioners--glances which lingered for an awkwardly long time, shifting from me to my DGF and back again, and I suspect that around this time, it began occurring to said parishioners that we might be not be the nice young men we had originally appeared to be, but rather homosexual women.  (My DGF, who tends not to notice these things, insists that "no one really looked at us."  I assure you she is wrong.)

Since Lent is approaching, the sermon was largely about giving things up.  I guess one rationale for Lent is that giving something up for 40 days kind of purifies you.  I was not raised Catholic (decades ago, my grandmother was excommunicated for getting divorced, which soured our family on Catholicism long before I was born).  Nonetheless, I emerged from childhood with a near-preternatural susceptibility to guilt, and the whole idea of Lent appeals greatly to this susceptibility.  I mentally counted how many days I'd already gone without ice cream (three) and wondered if I could get retroactive credit.  

At our post-Mass brunch, I asked my DGF's father about my retroactive credit idea, but he said it didn't count.  He also squelched my idea to give something up that I don't feel a need to have anyway, such as cilantro or penises.  I asked my DGF's dad what he was giving up, and it turns out that people over 59 don't have to give anything up at all.  Immediately it became clear why the church had been packed with senior citizens--they were clamoring to take advantage of the loophole.

Personally, I'm no atheist.  My own philosophy is closer to "All steeples point to heaven" (something my excommunicated grandmother used to say).  Well, maybe not all steeples, but you get the idea.  But the whole experience of Mass made me think about how different my life might have been if I was raised in a church like this one.  So many different religions and people and subcultures trying to do what they think is right, but simultaneously certain they've cornered the market on God.

              

I've been thinking lately about the myriad ways in which sexual orientation, gender identification, and gender presentation affect our occupational choices.  We might imagine multiple ways this could happen:

1. Maybe we choose a job where we can present as we want to and not feel alienated.  For some of us, this might mean being able to bring our partner to the holiday party; for others, it might mean not being the only woman at work who's not wearing a skirt.
2. Maybe we choose a job in which our partners aren't denied health benefits (and we probably also want to work somewhere where we can't be fired simply for loving whom we choose).
3. The dyke cop, the dyke librarian, and the dyke P.E. teacher are all cliches, yes...  but often there's a reason that things become cliches.  Whatever personality characteristics are associated with being a lesbian (and particularly a butch) may also be associated with whatever characteristics make people pursue certain professions.

Of course, lesbians can do anything.  We can be (and are) everything from ballerinas to surgeons, from firefighters to custodians.  But I know that in my own life, I've gravitated toward work that lets me be myself, and away from work that tends to favor or privilege those who conform to gender norms.

I'm really curious about what your experiences have been.  I would LOVE it if you would fill out the following brief survey and send it to me!  I'll tally the results and report them (anonymously, of course) in a future post:

Thanks for participating.  The more people who fill it out, the better and more interesting the results are likely to be, and the more interesting it will be to read about in a few days.  :-)

_As part of my New Years resolution to drop a few pounds--a resolution which has been slow-going, to say the least--my DGF and I decided to join a gym.  I've had gym memberships before, and sometimes I've been good about using them; other times I haven't.  (Bizarrely, the likelihood that I will use a gym seems to be inversely correlated with the gym's niceness.)

I'm an afternoon or evening workout person.  Working out in the morning makes me feel virtuous, with a nice post-exercise buzz, but the habit doesn't stick.  Turns out I'd rather loll about in pajamas (on days I work from home) or drive grudgingly to work, down some coffee, and allow my mind to wake at roughly the pace of a banana slug.  I covet the virtuosity of Morning People.  I spent a brief time as a Morning Person in college, cheerfully forgoing Jell-o shots so I could go to sleep at eleven, wake up at six, lift weights, and run a mile.  I have no idea what got into me, and no idea where it escaped to.

All of this is to explain that although I've worked out at gyms in the past, I've never needed to change clothes there.  I either change at the office or wear gym clothes under my work clothes.  Then right after I work out, I just drive straight home.

But this new gym we've joined has a pool.  And for some reason, I have been obsessed with the idea that I want to swim.  I do not have a swimmer's physique, nor am I particularly good at it.  But surfing is on my bucket list and I need to be in better swimming shape if I want to surf before I hit 40.  Also, I recently read Haruki Murakami's South of the Border, West of the Sun (which I liked very much), and the main character is always swimming to clear his mind.  Murakami himself also swims, and I am presently a little obsessed with Haruki Murakami, so my burgeoning interest in swimming makes a fuzzy kind of sense.

Anyway, since I don't want to drive home sopping wet after a swim, I need to use the locker room at this new gym.  I hate changing in front of other people.  It's totally uncomfortable and I avoid it when I can, sometimes even changing in the shower stall.  But whatever.  I'm an adult.  I can handle being embarrassed about my body or my half-nakedness or my brilliantly white day-glo upper arms.  Here's the part I didn't anticipate but should have: some women are weirded out by seeing a butch in the locker room. They don't read me as male, but correctly read me as a dyke, and some of them kind of stare and look uncomfortable.

Honestly, I don't blame them.  One of the main rationales for having separate men's and women's locker rooms  (along with the safety issue) is that people want to be able to change their clothing without worrying about being looked at as sexual objects.  I get this.  And since I'm obviously a lesbian, some of them probably feel that it's a little like having a guy in the locker room. 

Even those who are quite progressive (and there are many of them at this gym), and don't blink at seeing a lesbian couple hold hands on the street may feel uneasy when there's a dyke in the locker room, because it makes them uncomfortable to think I might be looking at them in a sexual way (which I'm not).

So far, my basic strategy has been to try to make myself as small and unobtrusive as possible.  I avert my eyes and position my entire body away from the other women.  I guess this has worked okay so far, but it still makes me *and* them uncomfortable.  And probably one of these days, I'm going to get told, "This is the women's locker room!"  I guess I *could* wear tight pink T-shirts or lavender capris sweatpants things to announce my girlness, but, uh, that's not going to happen. 

I know I have just as much right to be there as everyone else and yada yada yada.  But for me, the issue is not about being ashamed to be a butch or not wanting to hold my head up high, or anything like that.  Just as *I* have a right to feel comfortable in the locker room, so do they. 

I'd really prefer to allow everyone to be as comfortable as possible.  I don't *want* to ignore their discomfort.  After all, I would feel totally uncomfortable if there was a guy in the locker room.  Not because he looks different from me, or because I think he's going to do anything he shouldn't, but simply because he is sexually attracted to women and I am a woman.

Have any of you other butches ever felt uncomfortable in a locker room?  How do you deal with it?  Just keep your head down and your gaze averted?  Or is there a magical approach I haven't figured out yet?

(Update: Wendi at A Stranger in This Place had a great post on this last year!)

_Responses to my "bah humbug" post about Valentine's Day ranged from hostility ("maybe you need to get laid") to laughter ("LOL, that was awesome!").  I also got several answers to two questions, and I'll share a few of my favorites:

A word or saying you would love to see on a conversation heart:

• Ruffian
  
• Yum, brains!
• Nice boots [<-----I think that one's my favorite]
  
• You dog
• Not tonight
  
• Unconditional
• Total dyke
  
• And one reader, AJ, sent me a picture of some funny ceramic hearts she made!

__

The queerest, gayest, or most lesbian way to spend Valentine's Day:

1.  ...[W]ith the cats, while watching "Imagine Me and You," cuddling in our underwears. Granted, I have only one set of plaid panties, but I'm hoping that will do.  Stereotypes for the win?

2. At a girl bar, listening to politicially themed folk music, gushing about how much you love the woman you're with, then getting mad at her because she didn't respond properly.

3. Having sex with a woman (assuming you are one).


In any case, dear readers, thanks for your amusing emails and comments.  I hope you had a great Valentine's Day, whether you love it, hate it, celebrate it, are indifferent to it, or forgot about it completely, and whether you are single, dating, coupled, or stuck in one of those romances Facebook categorizes as "complicated."  As far as I'm concerned, you're all my valentines.  Thanks for being awesome.

I am sort of a V-Day grinch.  No matter what people say about Valentine's Day, I think it is silly and misguided and I have a judgmental retort. 

For example, if someone says:
OMG I loooove Valentine's Day!  We're going to roast coconuts on the beach, then my sweetie is taking me to my favorite restaurant and then we're going to go home and do chocolate liqueur shots off of each other's foreheads while reading love poems and releasing doves into the night...

...Then I think:
That is patently ridiculous.  You're kowtowing to Hallmark's idea of when to express love and celebrate your relationship.  Why do you insist on fueling the capitalist machine with this kind of tomfoolery?  Plus, eew.  TMI.  Grrr.

On the other hand, if someone says:
We don't celebrate Valentine's Day because it's just giving in to capitalist exploitive yadayadayada patriarchial yadayada money machine yada Occupy Occupy YADA.

...Then I think:
For God's sake, why do you have to take this so seriously?  It's just a fun, harmless holiday to celebrate romantic love.  Would it kill you to fingerpaint a heart onto a piece of looseleaf and call it a day?  Jeez.  Grrr.

Or if someone tells me:
We don't celebrate Valentine's Day because EVERY day is Valentine's Day for us!  Wheeeeee!

...I think:
I highly doubt that if you have been in this relationship for more than five weeks, "every day" is Valentine's Day for you.  I don't buy it.  Are you saying that the V-Day devotees have shallow relationships?  Because that's mean.  And judgmental.  And I am judging you for your judgmental ways.  Grrr.

As you can see, my internal responses to common positions on Valentine's Day tend to end with "grrr."  I have no idea why this is.  I've never been especially disappointed on V-Day.  I have no bones to pick with it.  Sure, I think the amount of conspicuous consumption, shiny bows, and substandard milk chocolate that it tends to produce is irritating and wasteful, but that's an aspect of virtually every holiday, and I don't dislike all holidays.

I just have a quiet little wish for V-Day not to exist, because then people wouldn't say things like those above in a manner that I arrogantly (and probably incorrectly) interpret as self-righteous.  And then I would be less likely to judge them.  And then I would subsequently be less likely to feel shitty about myself for being so judgmental, bursting balloons, raining on parades, etc. 

Even my V-Day grinchiness is rooted, ironically, in self-absorption.  Grrr.

Anyway, uh, happy pre-Valentine's Day.  I'm going to try really hard to have a cheerier post tomorrow.  But I need your help.  Please send me (butchwonders [at] yahoo [dot] com) one or more of the following things by tomorrow afternoon:

1. A picture of the gaudiest, most over-the-top Valentine's Day display in your local store or market.
2. A word or saying you would love to see on a conversation heart.
3. The queerest, gayest, or most lesbian way to spend Valentine's Day
   

Email these things to me and you can "B mine 4-ev-R" or whatever the f*k.

_A reader wrote to me recently about my series on butch/butch relationships, complaining that the couples I featured were "androgynous" and "not really butch."  This perplexed me.  As far as I'm concerned, anyone who wants to identify as "butch" is butch.  I'm not in the business of policing identity--God knows there's enough identity-policing out there without adding my own picayune, self-serving biases to the mix.

And yet, sometimes my "free-to-be-you-and-me" approach feels too facile.  As I said in a radio interview a few months ago, theoretically anyone can identify as anything.  I mean, my grandmother could "identify" as a young black man, right?  So at some point, can't self-identification strain reality?  Should everyone be obligated to support and acknowledge a self-identification that we think is patently absurd?  Or maybe there is there no such thing as absurd self-identification, if we believe identity is about defining one's self, not about subscribing to the labels other people mete out.

When it comes to identity, "butch" is tough to pinpoint.  I hear people talk about butch in at least three different main ways: being "butch on the inside," "acting butch," and "looking butch."  I'll take each in turn.

What does it mean to be butch "on the inside?"  To be masculine?  To have a "tough" attitude?  To have the desire to act like a gentleman?  If this is the case, then aren't a lot of cis men "butch?"  But we don't usually think of typical straight guys as butch…  so does "butch" mean to identify as female and have these characteristics?  This makes an intuitive kind of sense, but excludes trans men and people who identify as genderqueer, which doesn't seem accurate, either.  Hm.

So how about "acting butch?"  Does it mean acting "like a man?"  Acting "masculine?"  This seems roughly accurate at first.  But doesn't defining butchness this way embrace cultural norms of how "men act" and "women act," implicitly accepting sexist ideas of men's and women's behavior?  And even if we choose to define butchness this way (for, say, the sake of convenience or simplicity), do negative traits associated with cis men, like expressions of misogyny, count?  It's also difficult to figure out how to balance certain behaviors against one another.  My DGF is the one who kills the spiders and changes the lightbulbs.  But she's also the one who vacuums.  Do I average out all her behaviors, assigning positive and negative point values and summing them up: -2 for vacuuming; +3 for spiders?  This seems absurd (and talk about reinforcing gender normative ideas--yuck). 

Appearance, perhaps, is the easiest of the three dimensions I introduced above, and is also the one that comes to mind most readily, probably because it is the one that differentiates us most from the other people in our surroundings on a day-to-day basis.  If someone who identifies as a woman (or at least, not as a man) wears clothes, a haircut, etc., that most people associate with men, we might say that she "looks butch."  Of course, this is separate from whether she identifies as butch.  Not to mention, this still excludes trans men.  Then again, if a trans man desires to be seen as a man, is he "butch?"  And if he is, then why don't we think about cis men as being butches?  Isn't categorizing the trans man differently from cis men disrespectful of his identity?  And if he does identify, and is counted, as butch, are butch women "less butch" than the trans man, because they (may) appear less masculine?  This is not a particularly comfortable idea, and may contribute to tension between trans men and butch women.

Is appearance a necessary component of butchness?  If someone identifies as female, has long hair, wears dresses and makeup every day, and feels comfortable with this self-presentation, can she call herself "butch" because she "feels butch?"  Of course, she can...  But as a woman who deals with flak for looking and dressing "like a guy," the idea of a gender-normative-looking woman calling herself "butch" makes me bristle.  Arguably, it shouldn't.  Arguably, it's none of my business to judge the accuracy of her identity.  And yet, hypocritically, I would find it difficult to consider her butch.

Despite these complications, I continue to not only to identify as butch, but to think of it as a useful term.  It puts a name to some of the ways I deviate from mainstream gender norms in behavior, attitude, and appearance.  Calling myself "butch" helps me own who I am.  It offers a way to navigate my everyday life as a woman that other people perceive as masculine.  It is a way of trying to understand, and trying to be understood.  It says, "I am not flawed.  I am just another, valid species of woman or gender or person of which you might not know.  But I exist.  And what's more, I am not alone.  There are others like me."  I experience an intangible flash of recognition and affinity when I encounter someone else I perceive to be butch.  I look up to older butches, and I feel a maternal (paternal?) desire to help out the younger ones.

I know that "butch" is hotly contested territory.  And I know that there are good, smart, sociopolitical reasons for this contestation.  But I guess that--occasional bouts of hypocrisy notwithstanding--the further I venture into butchhood, the less interested I become in defining it for anyone but myself.

_I've finally got the new Butch Store up!  Right now, it's just denim and watches, but there's much more in the works.  Now for a brief FAQ:

Q: Why did you make a "Butch Store?"
A: Because butch fashion can be hard!  Not only do we have few fashion role models, but menswear doesn't always fit us well.  I want a place where butches can immediately find stuff they love.

Q: How do you figure out what to put in the Butch Store?
A: I spend ridiculous amounts of time going through websites and finding things butches might like.  (I aspire to be a butch Tim Gunn, so this isn't exactly a chore for me!)  Think of me as your butch personal shopper.

Q: If I shop at the store, does it support Butch Wonders?
A: A little, yes!  5-6% of what you spend goes to help Butch Wonders exist.  But this blog is nonprofit.  If I broke even for my site costs and time, it would be a miracle (and a welcome one, since I quit a paid part-time job to, uh, write more stuff for you to read for free on the Interwebs).  Anything beyond this, will be donated to LGBTQ organizations.  I'll let you know if that ever happens, and will even let readers vote on which organization I donate to.

Q: I have an idea for something you should offer!
A: Awesome.  Email me and tell me what it is.

So there's the lowdown on the Butch Store, friends.  I hope you'll check it out.  If you have any other questions or feedback, please comment!

_ 
As most readers have heard, the Ninth Circuit affirmed the trial court's ruling on Prop 8.  I know it's hard as hell to keep track of all the cases and ballot measures (let alone understand them), so I've written a step-by-step guide/timeline that you don't need a JD to understand.


State and federal courts: the basic setup

First, California state courts have three levels:
1. Superior court (lowest level, where trials happen)
2. State appellate courts (also called "district courts;" middle level)
3. California Supreme Court (highest level)

Then we have the federal courts.  Three levels there, too:
1. District courts (lowest level, where trials happen--not the same as #2 above, despite the name)
2. Federal appeals courts (also called "circuit courts," middle level)
3. U.S. Supreme Court

The California Supreme Court interprets California laws, deciding whether those laws violate the state constitution or the US Constitution.  When it comes to the California Constitution, the California Supreme Court gets the final say.  But not so for the U.S. Constitution; the federal courts get to have the final say over that. 

So it's important to understand that there are two kinds of "constitutional" violations that people talk about--the state constitution and the federal constitution--and a different set of courts gets the final say over each one.  Understanding all this will make it easier to follow my breakdown.  Okay, here you go:


California Gay Marriage Timeline

2000: California voters pass Prop. 22, which is a state law saying that "marriage" means one man and one woman. 

2004: San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom issues same-sex marriage licenses to same-sex couples despite Prop. 22.

Anti-gay groups file lawsuits in SF superior court (state trial court), saying that Newsom's actions were illegal and the marriage licenses are invalid.  Newsom says that Prop. 22 is unconstitutional, and that it's not illegal to violate an unconstitutional law.

2005: The SF superior court says that Prop 22 is illegal.  Outlawing gay marriage is gender discrimination.  The anti-gays immediately appeal to the state appellate court. 

Before the state appellate court decides anything, the California legislature passes a bill saying same-sex marriages are allowed.  But a few days later, Gov. Schwarzenegger vetoes it, saying the court should decide.

2006: The state appellate court overturns the lower court's decision.  It says that preventing gay marriage is not gender discrimination, that the state's interest in protecting the "traditional definition" of marriage is valid, and that the definition of marriage shouldn't be decided in court.   Of course, the gay rights lawyers appeal (those activist gays!) to the California Supreme Court.

2007: The California legislature passes another bill allowing same-sex marriages.  Schwarzenegger terminates this bill, too (HAHA, get it?  'Cause he's the TERMINATOR!?  Ha…  ha?). 

2008: The California Supreme Court rules on the Prop 22 case, saying that marriage is a fundamental right, and that voters can't just sweep it away.  After all, what if people voted to take away the freedom of speech?  You can't just "vote away" a fundamental right.  You have to actually amend the state or federal constitution.

So…  the anti-gay folks do exactly that, and propose an amendment to the state constitution.  (California lets its state constitution be amended by popular vote.)  This is what's known as Prop 8.  It's different from Prop 22, because Prop 22 was just a law; it didn't change the state constitution.

Prop 8 passes.  The California constitution now says that "marriage" means one man and one woman.  (Interestingly, this means that trans people who legally change their sex can get married, as long as it's to a person of the opposite sex.  Hmm...  a rare case of trans "privilege!")

2009: Gay rights lawyers file a suit in federal district court (the lowest level of federal court) saying that the California constitution now violates the US Constitution.  (See, states can say basically anything in their constitutions, as long as it doesn't violate the US Constitution.)  So that's how a state decision got into federal court.

2010: There's a trial in federal district court.  The judge (Vaughn Walker) rules that the state has no "rational basis" for denying a right (marriage) to a particular group (gays).  Even though sexual orientation doesn't get special constitutional protection under the law like race and gender does, you can't single people out for no good reason and deny them a right.

Anti-gay groups appeal to the Ninth Circuit (the federal appeals court), saying that Judge Walker got it wrong, and that there are good reasons for denying marriage to gays.  They also say that since Walker is gay himself, he was too biased to hear the case.

2012: Today's decision: the Ninth Circuit upholds the ruling.  They say that Judge Walker was fine to stay on the case (duh).  The big question is whether there was a rational reason to take away a right from a specific group of people.  The decision goes through all the supposed reasons for Prop 8 and says, come ON--banning gays from getting married doesn't promote ANY of these goals.  The only goal it DOES promote is harming a particular group, and that's not a legitimate/rational reason for a law. 

Next, the anti-gays will undoubtedly appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, which may or may not take the case.  In a future post, I might talk a little more about this.  But for now, let's all bask in the happy afterglow of the Ninth Circuit's decision!

  

This weekend, my brother (who is straight but metro, and can wear pleated pants with uncommon flourish) announced to me that one of his cats has come out of the closet.  My brother sent me the rainbow-infused picture at left (the gay one's perched on the dresser).  I was proud of the cat, and would like to think that as its aunt, I played a role in its conversio --er -- realization.   My brother and me then brainstormed other ways to identify LGBT pets:

Top Signs that Your Pet Might Be Queer

1. She will only eat vegan, locally-sourced kibble.
2. He refuses to watch anything besides HGTV or Bravo, and claims he reads Playgirl "for the articles."
   
3. She steals your LL Bean Visa card to buy a doggie flannel.
4. You pick him up from the groomers and he says, "OMG, never going there again."
5. She only chews up comic books by Alison Bechdel or Paige Braddock.
   
6. When you come home, he has rearranged the furniture.  Again.
7. Before you know it, she has adopted a small cadre of other rescue pets.
8. He will only wear an American Apparel cat sweater.
9. After coming back from the groomers, she immediately tear the bows out of her fur, muttering something about "patriarchy."
10. He takes long walks with a male, gender nonconforming pet "friend."
    
11. She will only sleep beside you in bed if you use unscented laundry detergent.
    
12. He has limp paws (see pic below). 
    

Special thanks to my hilarious brother for coming up with about half of this list!  Do any of you have gay pets?  How do you know?  Do you feel like your own queerness helped or hindered their realization process?

_I've been reading Derek Burrill's interesting book, Die Tryin': Videogames, Masculinity, Culture.  And though I'm not finished yet, it's making me think more about gender performance and pop culture.  One of Burrill's central arguments is that video games act as a fantasy arena of what he calls "digital boyhood."  In order to succeed in the world of most video games, after all, a player has to beat up bad guys (often using creative weaponry and/or pre-programmed fighting skills), save women, etc.  Video games are a space where boys are digitally sequestered off--in a space free from women, familial duties, and political commitments like feminism or equality, Burrill says.  In playing video games, boys (and men) are often acting over and over to prove their masculinity in this weird, oddly pure, digital arena. 

My point in bringing up Burrill isn't to say that video games are inherently evil, nor that the men and boys who play them are anti-feminist.  Rather, video games strike me as one more setting in which masculinity is established as the baseline--the default--the backdrop against which other things are measured.  Masculinity (that is, mainstream heterosexual male masculinity) is the norm, which makes anything a "deviation."  (I think back to my own video-game-playing days, which centered around Super Nintendo.  Even in the (very few) games that offered an option of a female main character, these main characters were usually overly feminized, often princesses, and even more often scantily clad.  Check out this great blog post about the female characters in Mortal Kombat (one of whom is pictured left). 

Makers of video games would probably argue that male characters sell.  I'm sure movie producers and even authors of kids' books would say the same.  Girls will watch movies with a male main character, but boys won't watch movies with a female main character.  It's hard to imagine Harry Potter being as successful if she had been Harriet Potter.  Why?  Because boys wouldn't have watched it.  As a kid, I remember wanting to be a boy.  Not because I "felt" like a boy or wanted to kiss girls, but because it seemed like boys got to do all the cool, important stuff in the world, and I wanted to do cool, important stuff.

Masculinity (by which, again, I mean mainstream hegemonic masculinity) is the "default" or backdrop in hundreds of different realms.  Another example is school mascots.  Why are the men's teams "Bulldogs" or "Bobcats" but the women's teams are the "Lady Bulldogs" or "Lady Bobcats?"  Why not have the women be the "Bobcats" and the men be the "Gentlemen Bobcats?"  Have you ever heard of that happening?  It's hard to imagine.

I don't know how to fix this.  Maybe if little boys saw their fathers reading books with female main characters half of the time, or saw their big brothers play video games in which the main character was female, then this might all start to change.  But it would either take a big shift on businesses' part (and what video game company is going to compromise their bottom line by being first to that party?), or on the part of people from whom little boys take their cues: parents, friends, older siblings.  As it is, very early on in life, boys and girls learn that masculinity is a backdrop against which other things are measured.  Eventually, this privilege comes to be taken for granted and seen as "natural."  I suspect that this phenomenon has far-reaching consequences, and can't help but contribute to inequalities like the gender-wage gap and the fact that in virtually every industry, and in politics, at the highest levels of these arenas, men far outnumber women.  What do you think?