Thursday, September 20, 2007

Thinking About "Sexy," Breastfeeding (again), Purgatory, and A Strange Immortality

As I get less and less time for extended posts, I will likely have more and more of these "in brief" thoughts. I hope it doesn't get too monotonous! But there are a few things bopping around my head that I need to get onto the blog before they go away and before I can stop thinking about them and finish preparing for class!!

1) Is "sexy" a performance? - Jen of Et Tu, Jen? has picked up my "sexy breastfeeding breasts" post in order to completely turn it around. How cool is that? She asks whether "sexiness" is a valuable goal in itself, and I know where she's coming from in a way, though I see it differently. I've never really aspired to look sexy or act sexy--I guess I was trying to be intelligent and look attractive instead. An interesting discussion has ensued, mostly about the appropriateness of trying to be sexy, especially in a Catholic context, and in the context of a Catholic sacramental marriage. What strikes me is that sexiness is being represented almost exclusively as a look or an act that one puts on for other people or, in the case of "good, moral" sexiness (which is up for grabs on the other discussion), for one other person. It is never a feeling that comes from within, which is really what I was trying to evoke in my post. I have suggested "sensual"as an alternative to "sexy," both because it's not quite as loaded and because it seems to suggest a feeling--something internal--rather than a look or an action--something external. What I originally said was, "breastfeeding moms can still have sexy thoughts about their breasts." I'm not really talking about society's concept of what is sexy, but responding to the original comment that breastfeeding moms "cheapen what [their] breasts are" by breastfeeding in public, perhaps indiscreetly, or whatever. But what are your breasts anyway, when they're not a food source? Something to flaunt or somethin you appreciate the way you appreciate any part of your body that makes you feel sensual or beautiful? Anyway, they're not buying it on Jen's blog. Oh well!

2) Facebook's no breastfeeding policy - I came across something recently (I think through sitemeter) about Facebook shutting down the site of a breastfeeding mom for posting a picture of herself nursing her little one. Now hopefully most if not all of us can agree that that's not obscene, and not what they had in mind with their "no nudity" policy. However, I'm going to play devil's advocate and say that it might become more difficult for them to police the content of pages if they start differentiating the "type" or "intent" of pictures of bare anatomical features. How do we separate the nude baby in the bath family page from the child porn site? Yes, it should be clear, but it does complicate matters if we start having to address it. Also during a sitemeter browse, I noticed that someone in France did, indeed, find my "sexy breastfeeding breasts" post while searching for erotic lactation porn. Eeeeeeeew! So would the same mother who is outraged because her post was taken down feel all warm & fuzzy if some pervert was masturbating to a picture of her breastfeeding? I don't think I would, but then, I'm not going to post ANY pictures of myself or my children, so I guess it's more a matter of privacy than aesthetics. Still, tough call for Facebook. Or maybe not.

3) Purgatory - Entropy has a thought-provoking post about Purgatory, a favorite Catholic concept of mine, and how her daughter is struggling with the concept. I've already written a fair amount about it over there, so I'll cheat & repost my comment in the interest of time:

The concept of Purgatory is one I always found rather attractive--that is, after I passed my "just say no to all things Catholic" phase. Dante helped my understanding of it, predictably perhaps. (I took a course on Dante very shortly after getting my undergrad degree, and it was instrumental in my eventual conversion.) One vivid scene in Purgatorio involves one of the souls remembering his death and an angel and devil fighting over his soul. It seems his was a definite "death bed repentance" in the form of a single tear, and the devil was saying, basically, "oh, come on--that's not really genuine!" The argument worked with someone in the Inferno, but evidently this conversion of heart was real. So while he did indeed repent, there was no chance for it to be borne out in life, and even had he been able to "repay the $10," he didn't have the chance to try. So off he goes to Purgatory. I find it comforting because it means that we don't have to be impeccable, even after a conversion of heart, after repentance and penance (of course, Purgatory is also an extended opportunity for penance, and so is related to the Sacrament of Reconciliation). It takes into account our real, human failings in the face of God's mercy & forgiveness--and perfection.

And now I get hokey... It always bothered me at the end of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi that Darth Vadar could participate in and commit the number and type of sheer evil acts that he did during his life, and then, because Luke says, "No, you're really good," voila! he's good! And he joins the "good Jedi": Yoda and Obi Wan. It simply didn't seem fair. I mean, what about all the bad stuff? In Protestant theology, this wouldn't be a problem. He said sorry (sort of), was forgiven, end of story. But to imagine that the soul (yes, I'm still talking about Darth Vadar) doesn't carry a mark of all that evil is naive at best. Certainly, he has not reached the point where he should be able to participate in the joys of... well... company with the good Jedis (and here the analogy breaks down a bit). Anyway, I always thought that it was patently unfair that Darth should be judged as their equals without any reparation. I would have had him in Purgatory for a long, long time!!

Well, at the very least, I hope you find that amusing! ;)

And I wish you the best in dealing with this issue with your daughter!! My son has pretty much accepted everything seamlessly. I don't know how much he had learned at this point about Purgatory, but at any rate, I'm keeping Star Wars handy! ;)

-and-

I wonder, too, looking at Ma Beck's comment again, if certain types of sins retain a kind of hold on us--that on a level, even if we're forgiven and have really, truly repented, we are inclined (whether from shame or whatever) to replay them in our minds, to dwell on them, to keep them with us. I know I've done this. Anyway, this kind of lingering thought about sin is not appropriate for the joys of heaven, and must be burned away...

I rather like the idea of Purgatory, as you can tell, though it is tempting to feel like it takes the pressure off of me!

4) Immortality? - My daughter, who likes to peruse the VHS/DVD collection for things that have interesting pictures on the cases, has been interested in Toy Story 1 & 2 lately, which prompted some brief musings on what it means for one's immortality to depend on the existence--indeed, the youth and whim--of someone else!! This is a motif that repeats itself throughout children's books and media: consider The Velveteen Rabbit, "Puff the Magic Dragon," Jim Henson's The Christmas Toy, and then Toy Story. And children are shown to be fairly fickle in several of these examples. The Velveteen Rabbit is a bit different, since it's not immortality, but rather mortality--a "real" existence--that he achieves through being loved. Still, the dependency on the love of another--selfish love, really--and the necessity for the individual to build his/her existence around that other with no guarantee of reciprocal love--it's rather dark and existential on a level. As indeed, children's literature can often be. The odd thing is that stories that promote love and self-sacrifice are seen as positive, even mirroring Christian virtues. But I don't see that as the whole story. Unless the toy represents the perpetual "dark night of the soul," but I just don't think the creators were being that deep.

So really, would Buzz Lightyear have been better off or worse thinking that he was, indeed, The Real Buzz Lightyear? At least he would have entertained the notion that his life had its own purpose. On the other hand, he would not have been self-aware. These tease the edges of Christian notions, but fall short in disturbing ways. Consider, for example, the notion that we are called to do God's will and that when we imagine ourselves acting independently from God, Church teaching tells us that we are not seeing the whole picture and not living to the fullest extent possible. The Buzz analogy has a similar ring about it, except that the alternatives are utter dependency and self-sacrifice for uncertain love--or delusion. The Christian vision tells us what we seek to gain or lose from including God in our lives--or not.

Okay, clearly I need to turn off the TV. ;) And get some class prep done. William Morris, here I come!

19 comments:

Kate said...

On breasts and sexiness - I think I'm with you (I think? I also get what Jen's saying, but my take is a little more like yours). I can be 'sexy' inasmuch as I experience myself to be a sexual creature (male and female, He created them!) without going out of my way to be 'sexy' in the worldly sense of putting my sexuality on display. Even in my marriage and for my husband, I would never want to slice my self into bits to be packaged - fortunately, my husband wouldn't want that either. He says I have 'buxom brains' and that they are my sexiest feature. ;-)

Sigh...the truth is that we'll always be walking a fine line between extremes when we try to embrace what is right and true. Fortunately, we have the Holy Spirit to guide us!

Re: Purgatory. Have you read "Leaf By Niggle" by Tolkien yet? My favorite purgatory analogy, hands down.

Literacy-chic said...

You know, I thought I had read "Leaf by Niggle," but now I'm not sure!! And yes, it does sound like we're on the same page with sexiness. I like the "buxom brains"! ;)

Kate said...

re: Leaf by Niggle: read it with purgatory in mind and you'll see what I'm talking about. Plus, it's a nice reminder for frustrated creative types that the vision we are trying to capture may still exist even if we fail in our attempts to reproduce it. If that makes sense. Possibly the closest to allegory Tolkien ever intentionally got (considering that he disliked allegory).

Melanie Bettinelli said...

Kate, I definitely agree about Leaf by Niggle. I love that story!

On toys and immortality: such interesting thoughts! Would
Tinkerbell be another example... the whole thing about the need for children to believe in fairies or they cease to exist?

In a way the idea of existence depending on another's love is a very Christian idea... God is Love and we only exist because he wills our existence, because he loves us. At the same time, God is a perfect, infinite being. In the kid's stories, though, the one doing the loving is imperfect and finite. I guess that's what you're getting at with "no guarantee of reciprocal love".

Maybe the point of the story is just the need for love, for belief. The realization of how we act affects others? We are called to love God, yes, but also to love our enemies. With them we have no guarantee of reciprocal love. And yet their immortal souls might well depend on the witness we give them. We are called to evangelize the world. If I fail to show the love of Christ to everyone I meet, am I missing opportunities to save people's souls? It's a scary thought to think that someone may be damned because I failed to love them, and yet I know that my actions and inactions have real, eternal consequences not only for me but for others. Probably completely missing the point of your post, but it's what came to me.

Literacy-chic said...

Melanie--

Pt. 1 of your comment is exactly what I was getting at with the children's stories! They skirt the edges of Christian truth, but fall short in a way that is actually quite existential. Kids are fickle (in the stories); kids grow up. We don't identify with the kids in the story--they're the semi-divine beings that are the object of devotion for the toys, on whom the toys' existence depends. As I see it, the children--as the guarantee of immortality--stand in for God, but that doesn't really work. So the toys' sacrifice is futile, at least on a level.

Tinkerbell sacrifices her life for Peter, who is also a child, and has some of the "cruelty" of children (if you will)--let's call it selfishness. (The "cruelty" of children is something I discuss in my fantasy class with "The Veldt" and a short story called "Peter." I will be teaching Peter Pan, too, so thanks for bringing up this example!!) But Peter comes to realize and appreciate Tinkerbell's sacrifice, and their relationship mirrors a human-human relationship. The issue of children's belief in fairies seems a little different, but I'm not sure exactly what to do with it. Will think more...

Your extension is also quite interesting. I would not have thought of that at all. Perhaps because our enemies are more like us than the toys are like the children? So the relationship is more "equal" than the child-toy, toy-child relationship. The children also never realize that the toys are loving them--it's part of the "rule" of the fantasy. But there is the idea that the children's security--or something--depends on the presence of the toy, at least in The Velveteen Rabbit, in which we are almost told that if the rabbit were not there to provide comfort, the child would die, and, to a lesser extent, Toy Story, in which "playtime" is a good in itself, though the reasons are not entirely clear. In that sense, the sacrifice is not futile, and it is entirely selfless, which I think is the point. And yes, selfless love is very Christian. But without a Christian framework, is selfless love admirable, or foolish?

Methinks I am starting to ramble...

It was really Toy Story 2 that brought it home. Buzz & Woody will be broken & used, then abandoned, but they have served Andy, and will have each other's friendship as compensation when all is over. Something in me said, "Is that all there is, and all we're to take away from this?" It felt dark.

Will have to (re)read "Leaf By Niggle"!!

Thanks for great comments. I'm enjoying this!

Melanie Bettinelli said...

Question: does the framework have to be explicitly Christian for self sacrifice to be worthwhile? The Lord of the Rings immediately springs to mind. The Christian framework is implicit, but never clear in the story. Or The Kite Runner, a Muslim story but with a strong theme of self sacrifice.

St Paul says the cross is foolishness to those that perish and yet it is the wisdom of God.
Is it possible that what children see in the story is different than how an adult reads it? Children are both more wise and more simple than we give them credit for. Maybe they are able to overlook what to us seem to be inconsistency or a futile gesture and to see something deeper?

Another candidate for the theme of futile sacrifice in children's stories may be The Giving Tree. I recently stumbled across an article that reamed the story saying it was an example of the permissive parenting of the Baby Boomer Generation. Yet I always saw the story as a sort of retelling of the parable of the prodigal son. Yes, the tree is foolish, but wonderfully, generously so. I have no idea what Shel Silverstein intended with the story, though. I read it with my Catholic lenses on and so that's what I see in it. Maybe as a Christian I provided my own interpretive framework and read it into that story, any story of selfless love.

I remember having an audio cassette recording of The Veldt when I was younger the story made an impression. I may have to go re-read it.

Literacy-chic said...

It doesn't have to be an explicitly Christian frame. I was actually thinking more of a worldview devoid of God rather than a work of fiction without explicit reference to Christianity, in which case both of your examples still do include God in their worldview.

I didn't mean to suggest that the stories are inappropriate for children, by any means. One of the controversies within children's literature scholarship (I have dabbled) is whether one can ever anticipate what the "child reader's" reaction will be. It's kid of like "author's intent"--can't talk about that anymore. So I do think that, at face value, the stories are innocent and can be read as stories about giving and love without causing undue problems. But if the circumstances within the story are examined a bit closer, there are some underlying existential "strains." The existence of a toy does not depend on a concept of God. I'm thinking all of the sudden of the creation of the Dwarves in The Silmarillion. They were created without the consent of Iluvatar, and so had no lives of their own--they depended entirely on the will of Aule and have no will oftheir own until Aule relinquishes them to Iluvatar and moves to destroy his creation. I don't think that this was necessarily intended, but I think it's there nonetheless.

I always felt that The Giving Tree had a kind of Christian undertone, but I still find it disturbing--not the tree's giving, but the boy's continued asking. And if we're reading the story to a child, who is the child most likely to identify with?

"The Veldt" is an excellent story. Quite chilling. If you're interested in the other story I mentioned "Peter" by Pat Murphy, here is a link:

http://www.brazenhussies.net/murphy/Peter.html

I like Peter Pan retellings.

Literacy-chic said...

I don't think that this was necessarily intended, but I think it's there nonetheless.

It was intended by Tolkien!!! What I meant was that this kind of thing was not intended by the authors of the children's stories we're discussing.

Amy Jane (Untangling Tales) said...

I love this talk about kids' stories and what is or isn't "intended" vs. what the child "gets."

Maybe (is this hijacking the thread?), this is what I love about folk or fairy tales.

They have been around so long they (if I may refer to them almost as organisms, rather than inanimate) have moved far enough away from their individual sources that original intent is nearly irrelevant.

By now it is basically about how they are perceived and how they interact with their audience. What about them keeps them alive for centuries, and so on.

I haven't dug your archives yet, LC, but I imagine from the dabbling I've done (I'm over from a discussion on Et tu) you may have addressed this elsewhere, so I'll poke around some time later (baby's done nursing now ;o)) and quit pulling the talk off here.

This talking about stories and words is *totally* my thing, so I'm going to hang around for a little while :o)

Blessings on your day!

Literacy-chic said...

Thanks! Nice to have you around! I've said a few things about children's lit, but I've never addressed folk tales & fairy tales per se. I do definitely ejoy them, though, and I know what you mean about how they have loves of their own! (Differently from toys, of course!) ;) I really enjoy fantasy literature in particular, and of course fantasy lit owes a huge debt to folktales. Thanks for chiming in!

Literacy-chic said...

Hah! that is, "lives of their own"!

Amy Jane (Untangling Tales) said...

You might like my "commentary" category at Untangling. I throw those things out and duck, but I guess I'm invisible enough that no one cares enough to fight if they disagree.

Either that or I'm brilliant and no one can argue with me (hee hee!).

Melanie Bettinelli said...

Thanks for the link. I just read Peter. That is a great story.

And I re-read The Veldt. It wasn't exactly what I remembered. Better, more disturbing, not less. Definitely different when read while thinking of Peter Pan. I know I never picked up on the kids' names before.

I may have to go back and re-read Peter Pan too. I only read it once and that never really suffices. I suspect it will seem much darker now.

LilyBug said...

I wanted to chime in about The Giving Tree because I think there is a very valuable message in it that relates not to Christianity but also to motherhood. In fact, I think mothers can better understand the joy involved with The Giving Tree. Now, I'm not a literary critic nor am I one that analyzes literature on a regular basis. But, I'm going to give this a shot. Okay, the idea behind this story, I feel, is one about self-sacrifice and giving. What I think you can get out of it is that giving is not easy - that it requires a lot of the self. But, of course, there is great joy in giving to someone that you love very much. That is where the reciprocation comes in; the tree never gets one darned thing in return from the boy - I don't even think the tree gets a "thank you", but the tree is content (overjoyed, in fact) with the notion that she has something to give the boy that she loves so much. She never begrudges her gifts to the boy; she never makes the boy feel guilty for taking; she just gives. And, who else would the boy turn to in his time of need? Call him selfish, call him a taker, but for the boy, the tree is stability, frienship, comfort, warmth, and help. We can see the tree as a mother figure, likable to Mary. And, yes, if she is the Mother, then we are the children. Though we take and take, she is happy to give - and it's okay to ask. She wants us to turn to her when we are in need. And we shouldn't feel bad about going to our Mother for help.

I said I'd tie this into motherhood...I look at it like this: good mothers are always willing to sacrifice and give for the love of their children. They never expect anything back. The reciprocation that mothers get is seeing their children's happiness and growth because of what they sacrificed and given. And though mothers get old, and though mothers may not have much to give, they are always a place where children can go to to find peace, love, and comfort. Mothers can be turned to when mistakes are made and though her children are far from perfect, like the boy in the giving tree, mothers offer unconditional love and support, free from judgement or critique. Even the very worst criminals have mothers that love them. They may not love their actions but they love their person. That is what makes motherhood so wonderful; it truly is a vocation through which one can better understand the love of God. And mothering is not limited to our children; we can "mother" our neighbors; "mother" our friends; "mother" our brothers and sisters, etc. etc. In fact, I think to mother like mothering in The Giving Tree is what love is all about - loving without expectation for reciprocation. It can be impossible to achieve, but it is something to strive for.

In closing, my mother read my niece (and goddaughter) The Giving Tree when she was not more than three years old. When they had finished the story, my mother asked my niece, "E, who does the tree remind you of?" And, without missing a beat, my little niece said "My mommy." Okay, I'm done.

Amy Jane (Untangling Tales) said...

Lilybug-- That is an amazing story about your niece.

Though about the giving tree-- I'm not sure I'm mature enough to want to be that giving...

I think I do expect something of my children: I'm old-school (?) enough to expect they will be "paying back a debt " in my old age. Like my parents did for my grandparents, and I expect to do for my parents.

LilyBug said...

Amy Jane,

Do you really expect or do you hope they'll be ble to pay the debt? Those are two separate things and I think it's perfectly wonderful to hope. :)

Literacy-chic said...

I always did like the tree. And it's a very different kind of story than the others I mention because the tree is not seeking immortality through the love of the boy--whether the boy reciprocates doesn't seem to be the point, and yet insofar as dependency can be seen as affection, the boy has affection for the tree. But while I don't do things for my children (or anyone, I hope) with the idea of repayment (it's certainly not something I was ever taught or that I believe in in any way), I do hope that I will impart to my children the value of being able to express love and gratitude to others--something that comes in handy in most interpersonal relationships (marriage comes to mind!!). That, I think, is where the story could be improved. And while it's naive to expect one story to do everything, I do wish the boy were not so selfish. But perhaps a perceptive child would make that judgment for him/herself. I'm not sure when I first realized that about the boy.

Literacy-chic said...

Melanie,

Glad you enjoyed the stories!! I would love to know more about your interpretation of Peter. I love Peter Pan retellings or extensions, as I mentioned. Hook, if you strip away some of the pop-culture nonsense and stupid Julia Roberts, begins to approximate the mood of the play in some ways. There is also a very dark film with Alan Rickman called An Awfully Big Adventure about a production of Peter Pan that I need to revisit, but there's nothing spiritually inspiring, gotta tell you! It takes the line from Peter Pan, "To die would be an awfully big adventure," as its theme. I was in a production of Peter Pan in high school--very, very minor role. It can be done Disney/Mary Martin, or really played darker. And that's what makes it great, I think. (We did Disney style so that it would make good elementary-school money.) Regardless of how I might sound in the above post, I'm a big fan of literature that is morbid or existential to a degree--if it's done well. Even children's literature.

Amy Jane (Untangling Tales) said...

Lilybug--

I don't think I'll know which it is until I find myself in need of their help, and not getting it.

My attitude at that time will be the truest answer of whether I expected or just *hoped*.

Lord willing, I'll never have to wonder.