A Feminist Walks into a Bar...

In "The Politics of Speaking," a section from Susan Jarratt's chapter,"Feminist Pedagogy," we are told about an epiphany the author experienced during her sociolinguistic research. She realized that she herself was guilty of minimizing the roles and opportunities to engage for her female students when compared to what she afforded her male students. Although she argues that this substantiates an imperative to be a more gender-sensitive instructor (p. 119), I would argue that it could equally substantiate a need for separate classrooms for the genders.

My personal experience with single-gender education is limited to four years in an all-girls' public high school. While it was by no means perfect, it was preferable, at least at that time, and for me personally. Three of my brothers attended the all-boys' counterpart just up the street. We compared notes on what was offered at one school versus the other. One key factor distinguished our schools, however: the discourse among the students.

Being that this was the 70s, feminism and its implications were unavoidable. This was an era marked by a dichotomized energy: a hyper-radical, oversensitive, oversimplified and overdramatized women's liberation movement countered by a more genuine, educated and intelligent push for equal rights. Rage motivated the former; common sense, the latter. What we expected as women during this time of both change and dissention could not be contained in one ideology, since the extent and nature of feminism was very much driven by individual experiences, adherence to tradition, and levels of tolerance. But what was missing in a serious way (pun intended) was our sense of humor. We simply had none. Or perhaps more accurate, those of us that did, had not given full voice to it, nor felt the audience on our hallowed turf would be appreciative.

And in those moments of clarity about my own humor-filled existence living among a bunch of boys at home, I wished I could have attended their school. There were the hijinks, the quick-witted thinkers, and a drama-free sarcasm with no lingering grudges. There was the opportunity to learn how to laugh at oneself, and to master spontaneity -- crucial elements to grappling with real world, high-pressure situations. There were the stories... like the Library Incident:

My brother and his friends, being a tad too boisterous during group study, were scolded by the librarian, (a woman who I imagine had the aforementioned deficiency in humor), and subsequently advised that "This Entire Table Is To Leave The Library Right Now!!".

"This entire table?" asked the boys.

"YES!!! RIGHT NOW!"

"OK" they shrugged. They then proceeded to get up from their seats and uniformly carry the table out of the room.

I can fully appreciate the lingering "masculinity" that is problematic in our language, even in women's writing (122-123). But blogs have a way of making me want to play devil's advocate, I suppose. The drive to impart a more nurturing approach to teaching, and to fashion our rhetoric more equitably are both commendable aspirations in the employment of feminist pedagogy. But there is still room for authoritative, assertive discourse, with a splash of edgy humor, that draws on that which is masculine -- and which is equally essential -- within us.