At 23 years old, Stephani Germanotta—better known to consumers of pop culture by her pseudonym Lady Gaga—is establishing herself as the most prominent and misunderstood feminist of her generation.  Gaga, as she prefers to be called, uses every aspect of her public persona—her songs, performances, interactions with the media and gender presentation—to reflect society’s conception of capital-f Femininity.  She’s provocative, forcing her allies and critics alike to question our values in a way few, if any, pop stars of her caliber ever have.

Gaga’s meteoric rise to fame since the late-2008 release of her album “The Fame” has stunned the world, and just now are we beginning to understand that she is more than a fleeting shock-and-awe side show.  She is hyper self-aware, embodying a cultural shift that is both predicated on and staunchly defiant of all that has come before her.  We are in The Lady Gaga Moment, and the world may never be the same.

Now, before you write me off as just another gay boy infatuated with Gaga’s severe aesthetic, hear me out and understand that—true to the Gaga spirit—what may seem like my penchant for hyperbole is ultimately honest observation.

Gaga the Musician

Gaga’s relationship to her music is, in itself, a feminist statement.  In a December 2009 Los Angeles Times profile, writer Ann Powers noted that Gaga’s “frank talk about how female artists aren’t expected to write their own songs or about how young women are afraid to ask for what they need from their sexual partners inches her toward a new articulation of feminism.”

That Gaga writes her own music and plays it live is but one aspect of how she uses art to empower her fans, many of whom are teenage girls.  Her lyrics, which have been criticized for glorifying abusive relationships, in fact shine a harsh light on themes that other pop stars (e.g. a sexualized teenage Britney Spears singing “hit me baby one more time”) have perpetuated without any sense of irony.  In fact, I would venture to guess that Gaga would be pleased that a panel of teenagers rated two of her songs, “Bad Romance” and “Paparazzi,” among the top-ten songs with unhealthy relationship ingredients; it’s proof that they get it.

Gaga favors subversion over didactics.  Rather than telling us that we’re ugly, she’s holding up a mirror and forcing us to see it for ourselves.  Gaga does not pander to her fans or her critics.  She says things in a way that can be misinterpreted, but to acknowledge what’s dangerous about her message is to admit that she has something to say in the first place.

Gaga the Performer

Whether or not you’ve ever been to one of Gaga’s concerts—and if you haven’t, it’s an experience you will never forget or regret—it’s easy to acknowledge that she is a singular talent with respect to stage imagery.

In September 2009, Gaga performed “Paparazzi” at the MTV Video Music Awards.  At the end of the performance, she was left hanging, blood-soaked and lifeless, above a throng of dancers exulting her corpse.  She later told Oprah Winfrey, “Something that some people don’t always know about me is that I put a lot of thought behind all my performances… The VMA performance, for me, that was a commentary about Princess Diana and about being a martyr to fame.”

Later, in November 2009, Gaga sang two more of her hits—“Bad Romance” and “Speechless”—at the American Music Awards.  Prior to the performance, blogs and some less reputable publications had suggested that Gaga had a penis.  Rather than directly address the rumors at that time, Gaga responded in a typically effrontery manner: Her AMA costume was made of ace bandages, once of which strategically covered her groin. As a result, every time she bent over, the bandage would bulge out and allude to a phallus.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about Gaga’s live performances is that she simultaneously showers her audience with adoration while rebuking their encouragement.  If her critique of society is that we prefer to victimize female pop stars, then she turns herself into a tragic heroine of Shakespearean proportions.  And while we cheer her on, we’re unable to escape the feeling that we’re leading the charge toward our own destruction.  As Jason Zinoman observed in the New York Times last month, “... when [Gaga] flirts with her fans, expressing her love for them, the standard pop star cliches clash with the macabre story of the show, which acts out more of a dysfunctional relationship.”  That’s the Gaga paradox: She builds us up in order to break us down.

Gaga the Icon

The most common criticism of Gaga that I’ve encountered is that she is antifeminist.  And while it is true that she once said she was not a feminist, she has since recanted.  Gaga identified as a feminist when she spoke to Ann Powers during her interview for the LA Times piece, and Powers noted that the singer “is growing ‘more compassionate,’ she says, and focusing more on ideas of community, especially the one formed by her core fan base, a mix of gay men, bohemian kids and young women.”

Gaga’s commitment to her community has become more visible in the past few months.  In early February, Gaga and Cyndi Lauper embarked on a mini-media tour for the M.A.C. Cosmetics Viva Glam campaign to promote HIV/AIDS awareness.  Gaga and Lauper represent the two groups with the highest rates of new HIV infections in the U.S., namely women aged 18 to 24 and 39 to 60.  “Us together,” Gaga explained during an appearance on the Today Show, “represents a bond.  And it represents the kind of confidence and friendship we want mothers to have with their daughters, for friends to have, for sisters to have.”

Later, speaking directly to young women during the same interview, Gaga brought home the real: “I want you to aspire for a loving and monogamous relationship,” she said. “And I want you to practice safe sex.  And when that guy that you’re with is naked in his bed and you go to the bathroom to freshen up… remind yourself to have safe sex… It’s not only OK for a woman to say, ‘Not unless you wrap it up,’ but you have to.”

On top of encouraging young women to embrace healthy sexual practices, she inspires them to question oppressive patriarchal influences.  When Gaga appeared on the AMAs, she gave a nod to the rumors that she has a penis.  In this month’s Q Magazine (which is encountering a lot of resistance in the U.S.), she confronts them vigilantly.  Gaga appears on the issue’s cover wearing a black dildo, and in the article she explains, “We all know one of the biggest talking points of the year was that I have a dick, so why not give them what they want.  I want to comment on that in a beautiful, artistic way… When a guy says, ‘Oh I f***ed all these chicks this week,’ there’s a high-five and giggling… But when a women does it and it’s publicized or she’s open about her sexuality or she’s free, or liberated, it’s, ‘Oh, she must have a dick.’ There’s a threat.”

Gaga is in a position to do more than make people just dance.  She knows this, and she’s using her power to influence change.  Although her methods are disquieting to feminist allies and opponents alike, one thing is sure: Gaga is provoking discussions that others in her position are either too scared or too ignorant to initiate.  She admits when she is wrong (witness her reversal on being called a feminist), and she encourages others to be honest with themselves.  That way, she contends, we can heal the hurt caused by a society that values conformity over authenticity.

“My art is liberation,” Gaga says in her Q Magazine interview.  “Things confine us as human beings.  As a society.  And I want to free you.  I want to free you.”

This weekend, Meg and Dave and I were in a performance of “A Memory, A Monologue, a Rant, and a Prayer”, to benefit Victims of Violence. All of the monologues and dialogues were excellent (though I have a few qualms to be addressed separately), but one piece in particular - Eve Ensler’s “Fur is Back”, as performed by Meg - really struck a chord with me.

“Fur is Back”, for those who don’t have time to go watch videos, is an account of being That Girl at the Party - the one who actually answers the question “how are you?” and “what’s up?” honestly. The one who talks about the unspeakable things. In Ensler’s monologue, she melts down and is removed from the party.

This isn’t my experience.

Oh, mind you, I always worry about being That Girl! Because I do answer honestly. I do talk about it. Every time someone does the party-small-talk “what do you do?” and I answer “I work at the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center,” I have that half-second pause where I don’t know if the person will light up or shut down. But as time goes by, I’m finding more and more that it’s the former.

Because here’s the big not-so-secret of what we do:

People actually want to talk about this.

I have pointed this out to my family and friends. “Watch - the first person to talk to me at any party will ask me a question about rape.” And it is always so. Sometimes before I even get my coat off. When people know I’ll be at the party, I swear they sometimes lie in wait. I walk in and it’s “So what’s going on with SANE funding?” or “Someone I know was sexually assaulted - what can I do to help them?” or “here are some business cards of people who might like to have one of your workshops.”

It happens when I’m out dancing, or at the coffeeshop. It happens at science fiction conventions and online. Some days, half of my incoming e-mail is related to sexual violence.

Because people want to talk about it.

They just need to know that it’s safe. That you’re safe.

Because sometimes it’s just that they don’t want to be That Person at the Party, and that’s why they’ve never brought it up. Sometimes they’ve never talked about it at all, because they didn’t know if anyone would be receptive to hearing them.

But once they know that they can talk to you? The floodgates open. And suddenly there’s a panel at the convention about it, and a group of people at the party brainstorming about legislative advocacy, and person after person talking about what happened to them.

I have said sometimes that this is a big part of the power of what BARCC volunteers do - that, just by being visible, we enable these conversations. By being someone who can be spoken to, we make the topic no longer unspeakable.

And when people know they can speak, oh, do they.

Because they have always wanted to.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to have these conversations. Make it known that your presence is a safe space. That you will listen. You may be surprised at how many people want - need - to speak.

White Ribbon Day coming to Massachusetts on March 2nd

March 2nd is the third annual Massachusetts White Ribbon Day, sponsored by the Men’s Initiative at Jane Doe, Inc.  Inspired by the larger international White Ribbon Campaign, started in Canada in 1991 by men two years after the Montreal Massacre, the Massachusetts campaign seeks to provide a public opportunity for men and boys to vocally support respectful and non-violent relationships, and commit to ending violence against women.

The WRD website gives interested men a number of different options to get involved in the campaign: signing the pledge to never commit or condone violence against women, becoming ambassadors and getting other men to sign the pledge, and joining community events, in order to get as wide an appeal to the men of Massachusetts as JDI can.

In the past, I’ve served as an ambassador for the WRD in Massachusetts, and the public events at the State House are always a great opportunity to meet other activists working in the field of violence prevention.  In my mind, the true purpose of a campaign like this in Massachusetts, and in the way the JDI puts it together, is to get valuable public airtime and attention focused on issues like domestic violence and rape on a regular basis.  Sexual violence is an epidemic in our culture, but it’s so normalized and routine that we don’t see it.  Big, public events like the WRD can give everyone the opportunity talk about these issues, and doing it every year means those conversations can start up again each spring.  Especially for men, who do not often have an easy way of starting conversations about rape and sexual assault with their peers, male family members, and male friends, the WRD gives a really good entrance point to bring those topics up in the first place.

What the WRD can’t do is actually lower rates of domestic violence and rape.  Signing a pledge or reading one publicly does not, unfortunately, have any sort of actual binding effect on behavior.  Actually stopping or reducing rape, sexual assault, and domestic violence takes serious policy work to provide options for survivors, serious cultural work to make abusive behavior less normal, and serious internal work, especially from men (who make up the vast majority of abusers and rapists) to redefine masculinity as an identity separate from violence and dominance.  So while I’ll be taking the pledge (again) this year, I’m also going to continue doing the other work I know I need to be doing in order to actually put an end to sexual violence and domestic abuse.

If you want to get your sweet anti-domestic and sexual violence action on, here are a couple of ways you can supplement a public commitment during the WRD with long-term action:

• You could join BARCC as a volunteer!
• You can check out the community mapping model of the awesome domestic-violence awareness organization Close to Home.  They work in the Fields Corner neighborhood of Dorchester, and use some awesome techniques to start community conversations about DV.  Join their network, meet their righteous youth team, and learn some practical skills to talk about preventing violence with your own friends and peers.
• You can get trained to stop violence.  Northeastern University’s Mentors in Violence Prevention program offers trainings throughout the year to former athletes who want to speak with young people about stopping sexual and domestic violence.  They aren’t the cheapest trainings, but they are really well put together.  Likewise, Emerge is another organization that does a lot of training for people who want to learn how to stop violence. 
• You can get political, and support legislation (or push legislation) that provides realistic options for survivors of violence, more funding for shelters, and better training for law enforcement working with sexual and domestic violence cases.  Jane Doe has a good page of legislative targets for this year, and the Victim’s Rights Law Center can sometimes provide additional insight on bills making their way through the State House.

Do all of these!  Do them regularly!  Take the WRD pledge, and then back it up with work throughout the year fighting against sexual violence.

While we’re at it, let’s challenge some stupid media tropes, too, about men being emasculated by having to care about their female partners:

Dodge Charger ad parody.

[TRIGGER WARNING. This post discusses child sexual abuse and child pornography.]

Amanda Palmer has a new record coming out soon, in which she and her collaborator Jason Webley appropriate the personas of conjoined twins Evelyn and Evelyn. Her blog post regarding this is here (and has been significantly edited; we’ll get to that).

Unsurprisingly, some people are not happy about this. Sady of Tiger Beatdown has an excellent post on the matter, as does Annaham of Feminists with Disabilities. Both Sady and Annaham point out the ableism going on here, and Palmer’s obliviousness on why this is a Really Bad Idea. I absolutely recommend that you go read those posts. Really. Do it now, then come back.

Hi! Welcome back.

So Sady and Annaham have excellent points regarding why Palmer dressing up in crip drag (the term used by the disabled community for able-bodied people pretending to be disabled, for purposes such as the selling of records) is ragingly inappropriate (think blackface; same thing, different Other).

Sady also touches on something that Palmer has since edited out of her post on Evelyn Evelyn. Part of the backstory of the “twins”? They were exploited in child pornography.

Yes, Palmer has opted to use child pornography as a plot coupon for indie cred. Apparently trivializing child sexual abuse is hip and edgy, in her mind. I’d tend to disagree. It would be one thing if her intent was to raise awareness of child sexual abuse and child pornography, and to provide information on how to help stop it. But that isn’t her intent. Her intent is to be shocking and deviant. (See her continued misuse of the word “rape” in interviews, and the simulated rape of a Katy Perry lookalike in her stage show. Suffice to say I’m not optimistic about her handling of this, simply based on her track record.)

Dear Amanda Palmer: These are real things that affect real people. Let’s hear from one of them.

[Seriously, TRIGGER WARNING.]

I quote here from the victim impact statement by “Amy”, the girl in the Misty Series of child porno videos.

There is a lot I don’t remember, but now I can’t forget because the disgusting images of what he did to me are still out there on the internet. For a long time I practiced putting the terrible memories away in my mind. Thinking about it is still really painful. Sometimes I just go into staring spells when I am caught thinking about what happened and not paying any attention to my surroundings.

I am horrified by the thought that other children will probably be abused because of my pictures. Will someone show my pictures to other kids, like my uncle did to me, then tell them what to do? Will they see me and think it’s okay for them to do the same thing? Will some sick person see my picture and then get the idea to do the same thing to another little girl?

The article goes into far more detail. Read it if you have the stomach for it.

Dear Amanda Palmer: It is not okay for you to appropriate this voice just to enhance the backstory of your fictional band. It is not okay for you to disregard the actual effects of childhood sexual abuse and child pornography to use it as a marketing tool.

Palmer has posted a non-apology in which she at least half-acknowledges that her choice of words regarding disabled feminists was poor. But despite numerous comments on both of her blog posts asking her to address her trivialization and flippant use of child pornography, she has chosen not to address it, instead editing that part out of the original post. (In her followup, she actually calls herself “brave”.)

In her non-apology, she says this is art and art is controversial, and we just don’t understand, and - oh, look, I have bingo! Again, I disagree. This isn’t art, Ms. Palmer, it’s cynical, dismissive marketing. If it was art, you’d have the guts to actually examine the realities of the trauma you’re putting on like that conjoined-twins dress.

That might be worth watching.

As it is? When even your die-hard fans are telling you that you’re wrong on this one, perhaps you should listen.

“Amy” says:

I feel like I have always had to live a double life. First I had to lie about what my uncle was doing to me. Then I had to act like it didn’t, happen because it was too embarrassing. Now I always know that there is another “little me” being seen on the internet by other abusers. I don’t want to be there, but I am. I wish I could go back in time and stop my uncle from taking those pictures, but I can’t.

Even though I am scared that I will be abused or hurt again because I am making this victim impact statement, I want the court and judge to know about me and what I have suffered and what my life is like. What happened to me hasn’t gone away. It will never go away. I am a real victim of child pornography and it effects me every day and everywhere I go.

Dear Amanda Palmer: This is not your voice. And if you’re not going to address the reality of this? Don’t pretend to speak in it.

You don’t speak for us. We speak for ourselves. Not to gain indie cred or to sell albums, but to seek justice, and to heal. To effect social change. To end violence. Because this isn’t a fun, shocking bit of our backstory. It is an enormous, life-changing thing. And if you’re not willing to speak to how that shapes a person, if you’re not willing to acknowledge it as more than a mock-shocking blip on the radar? Don’t use it.

“Amy” says, The truth is, I am being exploited and used every day and every night somewhere in the world by someone. How can I ever get over this when the crime that is happening to me will never end? How can I get over this when the shameful abuse I suffered is out there forever and being enjoyed by sick people?

Never forget that this is real.

I don’t know if you felt it, but on Tuesday afternoon, February 9th, Massachusetts became a little safer for survivors of sexual violence and stalking. On that day, Governor Patrick signed into law S. 2212, “An Act Relative to Harassment Prevention Orders,” which became M.G.L. Chapter 258E.

Up until last week, survivors of sexual violence, stalking, and harassment were able to petition for a criminally enforceable protection order only if the perpetrator of the abuse was a family member, roommate, current or former spouse, or a person with whom the victim has or had a “substantial dating relationship.” As a result, many victims were left without any protection under the old restraining order frameworks.

The fight to pass this restraining order bill in Massachusetts went on for nearly a decade. During that time, the Commonwealth lagged behind 38 other states with stalking/harassment civil protection orders and 17 states with sexual assault civil protection orders.

The remarkable thing about that loophole was that, while it addressed many of the needs of domestic violence survivors, it fundamentally ignored the reality of many sexual violence and stalking survivors. That is, it was based on the premise that strangers perpetrate most acts of sexual violence and stalking. While the old framework offered protection to those who might have been victimized by a family member or a current or former partner, the underlying assumption was that those who were victimized by someone who was a stranger would not require a protection order, since they had never seen them before and likely wouldn’t again. 

And that assumption left vulnerable not only those who were victimized by strangers, but also by the innumerable survivors assaulted and harassed or stalked by friends, acquaintances, classmates, teammates, coworkers, neighbors…the constellation of people with whom we live our daily lives.

There were many, many individuals who labored on various forms of this bill over the last decade, in the legislature, in law enforcement and the DAs offices, and in victim advocacy. Not surprisingly, though, one of the most powerful things to hear was the testimony in committee hearings of survivors and loved ones of survivors who needed protection and needed safety, but were not able to access it.

Stephanie Decandia, BARCC’s Manager of System Advocacy and Policy Development, made an important point in her remarks at the bill signing last week: “survivors are given the opportunity to fully engage with their lives again.” Too often, as a culture, we put the burden on survivors of making adjustments to their lives—-moving, leaving their school or jobs, separating from their family or their social groups. In that way, we allow the actions of perpetrators to have aftershocks far beyond the original threats or assaults, and that is unacceptable.

Stephanie rightly pointed out that “this legislation sends a message to all sexual assault and stalking survivors that they are heard, they are entitled to live their life without fear, and they do deserve our protection.” At the same time, it makes a broader point that harassment, threats, and further violence will not be tolerated, and that the larger community is taking responsibility for the safety of its members when they’re vulnerable.