necesar, dar nerecomandat

Posted on by

mi-am amintit de niste rinduri scrise de mircea cartarescu la un moment dat:

Exista multe standarde pentru aprecierea gradului de civilizatie al unei societati. S-a vorbit despre cantitatea de sapun folosita anual, despre libertatile cetatenesti, despre calitatea invatamantului. … Dar eu cred ca unul dintre criteriile cele mai sensibile, care practic nu da gres niciodata, este felul in care, intr-o societate, femeia este privita si se priveste pe sine. Din acest punct de vedere, mai mult decat din toate celelalte, lumea romaneasca e una primitiva cu asupra de masura. Poate ca economia noastra o sa se acomodeze, cat de cat, in timp, cu cea europeana. Poate-o sa invatam mai multe limbi straine si-o sa renuntam la proverbiala noastra smecherie. Dar atata vreme cat nu respectam femeia de langa noi ca pe noi insine n-am facut nimic si nici n-o sa facem.

E inutil sa vin cu exemple din viata de zi cu zi, oricat ar fi de “picante“ sau de revoltatoare. Cu cat cobori mai mult in Romania profunda (care-ncepe dincolo de limitele unei mici lumi manierate si nu exclude nici universitari, nici ministri, nici alti oameni cu scoala si pretentii), cu atat sarcasmul impotriva femeii este mai mare. Vorbim azi cu oroare despre antisemiti si despre cei care mananca unguri pe paine, dar acestia sunt in Romania o (periculoasa) minoritate. Pe cand cei ce dispretuiesc femeia, care ii neaga tinuta morala sau intelectuala, care-o exclud sistematic din spatiul public sunt larga majoritate a romanilor de amandoua sexele. Nu rasismul sau sovinismul national sunt azi cea mai raspandita forma de discriminare, ci brutala sau discreta, instinctiva sau argumentata “stiintific“ discriminare a femeii. Pentru omul de rand (intrati in vorba cu taximetristii, de exemplu), “femeia nu e om“, “toate sunt curve cu exceptia mamei si surorii tale“, femeia la volan e o calamitate etc. Pentru autoritati, de asemenea, femeile sunt cetateni de rangul al doilea: codul lor numeric personal incepe (ce simbol mai bun sa gasim?) cu cifra 2… — “Nu avem primarite. Pacat!”, Jurnalul National, 29.6.04

chiar nu stiu ce i-a venit lui cartarescu, insa citind analiza asta in 2004 eu am fost in acelasi timp surprinsa de cit de bine si lucid puncta problema (ok, in afara de faptul ca rasistii nu sint chiar deloc o minoritate in romania – dar macar i-a numit “periculosi”), si complet ne-surprinsa ca articolul continua cu aceasta marturisire:

Ca orice ideologie, feminismul mi-e strain, desi ii recunosc necesitatea.

urmata de inca o declaratie din partea lui cartarescu, ca nu cumva sa mai ramina vreun dubiu (desi nu-l interogase nimeni):

In varianta lui radicala, [feminismul devine] la fel de odios ca orice alt sovinism. Nu observ toate cele de mai sus dintr-un punct de vedere feminist, ci pur si simplu din perspectiva bunului-simt.

da, sigur! eu n-am inteles niciodata: daca vezi ca ceva e necesar, de ce te-ai dezice de acel lucru (si oamenii fac asta foarte des)?! totusi, in cazul asta inteleg total, pentru ca din pacate problema e “built in”: a sustine feminismul ca ideologie si/sau ca practica inseamna ori sa n-ai acces ori sa intorci constient spatele la niste privilegii, prejudecati sau concesii care-ti fac viata mai usoara, indiferent daca realizezi ca sint nedrepte si daca ti se par impotriva firii si firii tale – inseamna, deci, a-ti asuma un risc, a nu disimula si a avea curaj. in fond recurgerea la sexism, in aceeasi masura cu inscrierea totala in rolurile de gen, este ceva ce garanteaza fiecarui om (femeie sau barbat) alinierea la mainstream si la valorile patriarhale pretuite dpdv social si cultural. in timp ce feminismul, anti-sexismul sint echivalente cu a merge impotriva curentului si traditiilor. adica lucrul cel mai greu.

cartarescu putea sa aleaga greul, pare sa inteleaga asta foarte bine, dar pina la urma alege clar cel-mai-usorul. mda. numai ca el se justifica spunind ca asta e de fapt o alegere “echilibrata” (ceea ce e ca si cum ai spune, de exemplu, ca ai vrea sa nu mai fie torturati oamenii dar tu nu vei merge atit de departe incit sa condamni tortura, deoarece nu vrei sa fii luat drept “extremist” – nu de alta, dar ai auzit pe undeva ca printre cei care se impotrivesc torturii sint tare multi ciudati si radicali).

newsflash to cartarescu: punctul respectiv de vedere este feminist. asa ca felicitari (imi pare rau). iar feminismul este bun-simt; daca ti s-a spus la televizor ca feminismul e doar de-un fel si este “sovinism”, mai inchide televizorul, nu te mai lasa spalat pe creier, informeaza-te, gindeste critic si fa ceva util – si eventual anti-sexist – cu timpul tau si talentele tale.

ce-i amuzant e ca, folosind “bun-simtul”, cartarescu descopera de unul singur definitia cea mai simpla a feminismului, adica: “notiunea radicala ca femeile sint oameni”. mai putin amuzanta: inconsecventa de care da dovada.

sa vedem, pe linga cartarescu insusi (in ipostaza explicit non-feminista), ce alte “exemple” care arata necesitatea feminismului ar mai fi?

…
si daca astea sint citeva din nenumaratele exemple, ce e “sovin” si ce e “de bun simt” dintre a imbratisa feminismul si a te dezice de el? (raspunsul intr-un numar viitor.)

4 thoughts on “necesar, dar nerecomandat”

  1. copiez aici de la link-ul pe care l-am gasit in arhivele netului cu traducerea in engleza a textului “de ce iubim femeile”, comentariul (cu care nu sint de acord – aa, textul e exact atit de “quirky and funny” cit poate fi ceva profund patriarhal!) si satira “a few reasons why we love men” – © Cristina Hanganu-Bresch:

    Feminism(s)

    I got a while ago a short pamphlet? letter? short article? written by Mircea Cartarescu and entitled “A few reasons we love women.” It circulated liberally, apparently, among Romanians on the net, but to this day I couldn’t find out where it came from (or if it even was Cartarescu, although it definitely is his style). Reading it as a Romanian, I was amused and nostalgic, and caught myself smiling wisely to myself several times. Then I couldn’t help but wonder, could this be written in English, now? Or would it attract irate replies and burrowing frowns from aggravated feminist intellectuals all over the US? Or, rather, it’s a text that could not even be conceived in this culture? (I’m afraid so). Judge for yourself (translated in a moment of calm after grading and posting back 52 student proposals for the technical writing class I’m teaching online):

    Mircea Cartarescu:
    “A FEW REASONS WHY WE LOVE WOMEN

    We love women because they have round breasts, with nipples that stand erect through their blouses when they’re cold, because they have rotund, plump behinds, because they have faces with sweet features just like kids, because they have full lips, decent teeth, and tongues that don’t make you nauseous. Because they don’t reek of sweat or bad tobacco and don’t perspire on the upper lip. Because they smile to all the little kids who pass them by. Because they walk straight down the street, head up, shoulders straight, and don’t look back at you when you stare at them like a maniac. Because they pass with unexpected courage over all the servitudes of their delicate anatomy. Because in bed they are daring and inventive not out of perversity, but to show you they love you. Because they do all the nagging, little chores around the house without bragging about it and without demanding to be acknowledged. Because they don’t read porn magazines or surf porn sites. Because they wear all sort of trinkets which they coordinate with their outfit following complex, incomprehensible rules. Because they draw and paint their faces with the concentration of an inspired artist. Because they have Giacometti’s obsession with thinness. Because they come from little girls. Because they paint their toenails. Because they play chess, whist, or ping-pong without caring who wins. Because they drive prudently in cars polished like candy, expecting you to admire them at the stop as you cross the street in front of them. Because they have a way to solve problems that drives you crazy. Because they tell you “I love you” precisely when they love you less, as a sort of compensation. Because they don’t masturbate. Because they have every once in a while small afflictions: rheumatic plain, constipation, corns, and then you suddenly realize women are people, people just like you. Because they write either very delicately, collecting little observations and sketching subtle psychological nuances, or brutally and scatologically, so they won’t by any means be suspected of writing feminine literature. Because they are extraordinary readers, for which three quarters of the poetry and prose of the world is written. Because they go crazy after Rolling Stones’ “Angie.” Because they’re knocked over by Cohen. Because they wage a total and unexplainable war against cockroaches. Because even the toughest businesswoman wears panties decorated with heartbreaking lace flowers. Because it’s so strange to hang on the clothesline, on your balcony, your woman’s panties, wet little things, black, red and white, partly satin, partly rougher, amazed at what little surfaces they have to cover. Because in the movies they never shower before lovemaking, but only in the movies. Because you can never agree with them on the beauty of another woman or man. Because they take life seriously, because they seem to actually believe in reality. Because they really care about who’s sleeping with who in the TV stars’ world. Because they remember the names of actresses and actors in the movies, even the more obscure ones. Because if it’s not subjected to hormonization, an embryo will always develop into a woman. Because they’re not really thinking about how to shag the cute guy they see on the bus. Because they drink rubbish like Martini Orange, Gin and tonic, or Vanilla coke. Because they never rest their hand on their ass except in ads. Because they’re never excited at the idea of rape except in men’s minds. Because they’re blonde, brunette, red-haired, sweet, sex-loving, warm, cute, because they always achieve orgasm. Because if they don’t have an orgasm, they don’t fake it. Because the most beautiful moment of the day is the morning coffee, when for an hour you chew cookies and plan the whole day. Because they’re women, because they’re not men, nor are they something else. Because we came out of them and we go back into them, and our mind orbits like a heavy planet, always and always only around them.”

    Not to be outdone, I’ve compiled my own list of REASONS WHY WE LOVE MEN. Why not? :) I believe that the spirit of Cartarescu’s text is not to be misconstrued as some patriarchal political statement, but rather as the quirky, tender voice of the writer-as-man. And as such, it’s endearing and funny.

    A FEW REASONS WHY WE LOVE MEN

    Because they can never fake orgasms, even if they wanted to. Because they write poems, songs, and books in our honor. Because they never understand us, but they never give up. Because they can see beauty in women when women have long ceased to see any beauty in themselves. Because they have thick arms with testosterone-defined strong muscles that can always catch us. Because they come from little boys. Because they can churn out long, intricate, Machiavellian, or incredibly complex mathematics and physics equations, but they can be comparably clueless when it comes to women. Because they are incredible lovers and never rest until we’re happy. Because they live for our smile. Because they play games with the passion and abnegation of a four-year old, and are equally passionate kibitzers. Because they elevate sports to religion. Because they’re never afraid of the dark. Because they don’t care how they look or if they age. Because when they hold you close when you go out, there’s no better feeling. Because they make us laugh. Because they persevere in making and repairing things beyond their abilities, with the naïve self-assurance of the teenage boy who knew everything. Because they never wear or dream of wearing high heels. Because they’re always ready for sex. Because they’re incredible story tellers. Because they’re like pomegranates: lots of inedible parts, but the juicy seeds are incredibly tasty and succulent and usually exceed your expectations. Because they’re afraid to go bald. Because you always know what they think and they always mean what they say. Because their biggest fear is not being a man, and for this, they need to go away from time to time. Because their ability to fantasize is possibly the largest untapped energy resource on the planet. Because they love machines, tools, and implements with the same ferocity women love jewelry. Because they go to great lengths to hide, unsuccessfully, that they are frail and human. Because they either speak too much or not at all to that end. Because they always finish the food on their plate and are grateful for it. Because they’re always capable of learning and changing. Because they are obsessed with breasts to the point they’re endearing. Because they’re always suckers for something they don’t want to admit they’re suckers for—candy, Barry Manilow, chocolate, hot baths, massages, cats, or rollercoaster rides. Because they’re unmatched explorers and daydreamers. Because they can look you in the eye and instantaneously melt you away. Because when they’re inside you they feel like fire and drunkenness. Because a well-spoken four-year old girl can reduce them to silence, and a beautiful 25-year old can reduce them to slobbering idiots. Because they want to be either omnivorous or ascetic, warriors or lovers, artists or generals, but nothing in-between. Because for them there’s no such thing as too much adrenaline. Because when all is said and done, they can’t live without us, no matter how hard they try. Because they’re there for you. Because they clean the fireplace and take the trash out and carry your luggage without even asking. Because they’re truly as simple as they claim to be. Because they love extremes and when they go to extremes, we’re there to catch them. Because they’re smart, tender, and tough. Because we love them, and only a man would think that requires an explanation.

    dar comentez ca satira NU functioneaza, si nu e nici “quirky” nici “funny” pentru ca bineinteles trasaturile stereotipic masculine sint predominant “pozitive” si bine privite – in fond in asta consta problema: odata ce s-a facut impartirea binara a rolurilor, oricum problematica, intervine, in plus, faptul ca cele masculine sint “standardul uman” si apare o ierarhizare clara pe liniile “masculinitatea = sexul tare (destept etc.)” si “femininitatea = sexul slab (prost etc.)”. iar privilegiul patriarhal (si, sa nu uitam, heterosexual) ramine intact, chiar daca noi ne-am “distrat” cu aceste liste care il sustin cu “tandrete” si cu zimbetul pe buze.

  2. si inca un link, la un interviu destul de misto (cu ana maria beligan) care printre altele mentioneaza si “de ce iubim femeile”, astfel:

    … Aici nu pot sa nu ma revolt si sa nu mentionez acea carte “De ce iubim femeile” a lui Mircea Cartarescu – intamplator mi-a fost trimisa in Australia si am lecturat-o, am primit chiar si un fel de invitatie sa particip la un fel de replica “De ce iubim barbatii?”. Nu am acceptat aceasta invitatie pentru ca nu am vrut sa intru intr-un dialog cu acea carte, care pe mine personal m-a insultat. Femeile sunt privite acolo cu atata condescendenta, cu atata aroganta, sunt de fapt niste obiecte fragile si un pic idioate sau gratioase ca un fel de portelanuri. Pe mine m-a revoltat foarte mult, si nu numai pe mine, ci si pe alte prietene de-ale mele de limba romana carora le-am imprumutat cartea ca sa vad daca si pe ele le revolta la fel de tare. Nu vreau sa intru in speculatii cu tipul de femeie care iubeste o asemenea carte! Eu cred ca o femeie care se respecta nu are cum sa iubeasca aceasta carte.

    Cand am plecat din Romania am avut impresia ca plec dintr-o tara in care femeia este foarte respectata, pentru ca la noi in familie barbatii sunt foarte civilizati, niciodata n-au ridicat mana la o femeie, tatal meu dintotdeauna se declara feminist, le iubeste pe fetele din familia lui, totdeauna ne-a aratat o deosebita dragoste. Pe vremea aceea, cand am plecat eu in 1982, nici nu exista conceptul de violenta la domiciliu.

    Imi aduc mainte ca eram deja regizor la “Alexandru Sahia” (deci aveam o profesie “barbateasca”) si vorbeam odata cu un operator de-al meu care spunea ca pentru el exista doua feluri de femei: femeia “margareta” si femeia urata – era vorba despre zicala aceea ca o femeie sau este frumoasa si proasta sau este urata si desteapta; nu e posibil sa fie amandoua.

    In studiile mele de lingvistica in Australia am facut o analiza a abecedarului romanesc, care, in primii ani dupa revolutie pastra acelasi tipar comunist. Am facut o analiza a verbelor si am intocmit o lista cu verbele care se refera la baietei si cele care se refera la fetite. Baieteii mergeau la vanatoare, mergeau cu tata pe santier; fetita stergea motanul de lapte sau ridica cescuta de pe jos; facea toate aceste actiuni teribil de anodine si de limitative.

    La noi nu a existat o educatie, de-abia acum au inceput sa rasara discipline ce au ca obiect de studiu discriminarea prin limbaj. Imi pare foarte bine ca exista o generatie extrem de educata si inteligenta de tinere care vor si si altceva. Simt ca lucrurile sunt in schimbare. Imi place sa cred ca “Mamabena.com” cade pe un teren din acesta fertil. Ambitia mea este ca literatura mea sa propuna si un alt model de femeie; nu femeia amanta, nu femeia nevasta, nu femeia iubita, muza, ci femeia model a actiunii. …

  3. Pingback: ladyfest romania » Blog Archive » din arhive: “necesar, dar nerecomandat” - cartarescu vs. feminism

  4. Pingback: FIA fete/femei in actiune/activism (women/girls in action/activism) » Blog Archives » psd si “amazoanele”

Leave a Reply