Objectified and Ignored: Being Female in the Company of Marxists

For several weeks now, I had been upset that I had problems participating in the conversations of the Marxist and his friends. He assured me that of two things: first, what they were talking about was so specific that only a few in their field would be able to discuss it and second, most people do not know what they are talking about, if I stopped to ask them, they would be flustered, but have to say something. Thus, when he told me we would be meeting a couple of his friends that were more artistic, I became very excited. A poet and an artist! Finally, something I could talk about!

However, at dinner, I discovered, a cruel joke had been played on me. The Poet and the Artist both took in my body and face, which for sake of argument are more than fair, then proceeded to ignore me for the rest of dinner. They actually had the nerve to check out my ass as my partner and I walked in front of them. This is when I began to distrust the movement. I didn’t understand, I didn’t understand what they were talking about. I had never spent so much time feeling stupid—what are you talking about?

Part of the discussion was on the documentry they were working on, about labor in Los Angeles. If I wasn’t so anxious to find a breaking point to enter into conversation, I could have spent more time in my mind making fun of them. Making a documentry? Could you be any further from the trenches? Of course, my devil’s advocate immediately responds, but more people are willing to watch a documentry and become aware of the situation, then respond, react, become involved, perhaps even the film makers themselves!

Off the top of my head, the most famous male revolutionaries were famous for revolutionizing on a grand scale. Women? Well, they were interested in women’s rights.

One of our favorite movies is by director Bruce LaBruce, Raspberry Reich, about a woman who tries to lead a revolution, but her plans get foiled by a pesky pregnancy. Of course. Mental note to self.

My friend J. can’t stand “cool.” The entire idea. He thinks people are too concerned about being “cool” and are rendered completely uninteresting; they don’t do anything, they are just “cool.” Sometimes I feel this way about the Marxist and his friends because they write papers, write books, give talks, make documentries—they will never come close to reddish work, pointy things, and dirty hands.

Look, I think we all just want to do something important, but I just have a hard time understanding how they expect to help the labor movement if none of them have ever laboured. And bottom line, my friends would never create a conversation that only a select number could participate.