“There is a balance”

When I first started full-time work as an assistant professor, philosophy was an overwhelmingly male profession. All my colleagues would be men. In my college days, the women who taught me masculinized themselves in their gestures and dress, so that no one could accuse them of allowing seductive feminine wiles in the halls of academe.

I did not want to do what my women teachers had done. The sixties were ending. The new feminism was just beginning. Eventually, it would change the landscape. But its way of framing the situation was generic. What I needed was a concrete sense of how to navigate.

Here’s what I did. I imagined, empathically, what it would be like to have the body of a man. You have external genitals. That’s a dangerous vulnerability. You can be aroused involuntarily. Unless you are Attila the Hun, there’s another vulnerability. Your power and reputation are in principle under fire from other men. You stand on a field of combat. Meanwhile, if a seductive woman approaches, you can be attracted and rebuffed, even used and discarded. Or you can miscalculate the pushes and pulls of courtship and find yourself attached to a woman who is wrong for you. Or you can turn out a deliberate heel, but that is no light thing either, especially in a work situation.

That being roughly the masculine ordeal, I would have to (1) gauge and respect distances, so as to telegraph that I was not planning any of these kinds of power plays. This is more a matter of rhythm, timing and “body language” (but these reflect intentions telegraphed). I would also need (2) indirectly to acknowledge the erotic factor, which exists between a man and a woman, at any age and condition – even perhaps between a priest and a dying woman. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s the way we are, once we grow up. It was better before we grew up, but here we are. Nobody can help it. What I really wanted was to allow collegiality to usher us back to the halcyon days when I was ten years old, when we boys and girls were free — before dates and proms and wallflowers — before everything got horrible.

Here’s an example of indirectly acknowledging the erotic factor: a colleague was giving a paper and chanced to remark, perhaps in the Q & A, that flirting was a thoroughly bad thing. I countered, “How can you say such a terrible thing? Who would want to live in a world without flirting?”

To say that is not, in itself, to flirt. It’s to say, “It’s all right. We can’t help the way life is.” Everybody is acknowledged. Everybody is off the hook.

caryatid

About Abigail

Abigail Rosenthal is Professor Emerita of Philosophy, Brooklyn College of CUNY. She is the author of A Good Look at Evil, a Pulitzer Prize nominee, soon to appear in a revised second edition. Its thesis is that good people try to live out their stories while evil people aim to mess up good people’s stories. Her next book, Confessions of a Young Philosopher, forthcoming, provides multiple illustrations from her own life. She writes a weekly column for her blog, “Dear Abbie: The Non-Advice Column” (www.dearabbie-nonadvice.com) where she explains why women's lives are highly interesting. She’s the editor of the posthumously published Consolations of Philosophy: Hobbes’s Secret; Spinoza’s Way by her father, Henry M. Rosenthal. Her next book project will be Conversations with My Father. Some of her articles can be accessed at https://brooklyn-cuny.academia.edu/AbigailMartin . She is married to Jerry L. Martin, also a philosopher. They live in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.
This entry was posted in Femininity, Gender Balance, Masculinity. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to “There is a balance”

  1. Nilda says:

    I work with men; I have male clients and I use my position as a shield. Not that I stayed up nights planning on doing this, but years of being female has taught me that men cannot help but read my best intentions personally. Was I flirting? Did I give out signals of availability? Not in the work arena, I do not. So I arrange my desk so, I dress so, I refrain from touching so. I ‘read’ them so that I am sure what I say and how I say cannot be construed as an invitation of any sort other than to be friendly, and trusting. (As I type this I realize that as a therapist I am asking men to trust me with their deepest darkest thoughts and feelings. They have never trusted their own mother or wife as deeply.) I wonder if my colleagues create their environments with such care? Well of course they do. We all probably long for those “lazy, hazy days of summer” before everything became so freaking serious.

    Like

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