Mistress Krista is looking for research subjects. On her women’s weight training site
she writes that she is looking for larger female athletes to interview.

From stumptuous.com:

Who wants to be an interview subject?! I’m looking for heavier female athletes in any strength or power sport to interview for an academic article I’m writing.

• What’s "heavier"? Deliberately vague, dependent on the sport, and also dependent on your own personal height-weight ratio.
• What’s "athletic"? Anyone from elite competitor to amateur athlete
  to weekend warrior, as long as you can reasonably be said to be "fit".
• Okay then what’s "fit"? "Fit" here means that you have a decent
  level of overall conditioning (i.e. you aren’t going to have a heart
  attack from a flight of stairs) and that you are able to meet all the
  demands of your sport.
• And what exactly is my sport? Any strength or power-based sport,
  including (but not limited to) throwing, powerlifting, Olympic
  weightlifting, Highland Games, boxing/grappling/any other form of
  asskicking.
• What’s "female"? Oh good heavens, do we have to discuss the social construction of "sex" as a conceptual category all the time?

All
interviews will be conducted according to appropriate ethical standards
of informed consent. There will be no anal probing, just a gentle
series of self-reflexive questions all about your awesome self. Where
else would you have the chance to go on about yourself to an interested
audience?

Or, "What I Like about Weight Lifting, Part 1" In addition to "Strength Knows No Gender" I’ve been tempted by some other weight lifting shirts too. I like
"I don’t tone, I train" and "You say big like it’s a bad thing." I guess it began in my first year of grad school. The story starts with a tuition fee waiver which is usual in the US for graduate students. Take anything you want, no fees. Most people stick to their home subject or maybe, maybe a language, but my first year away from home was lonely. I left a boyfriend and a girlfriend home in Canada. One relationship ended and the other became a long distance letters and phone calls kind of thing (pre-email, yikes). So I took the tuition waiver and ran with it. Another female grad student and I signed up for a university PE course, Weightlifting Fundamentals. It changed my life and my relationship with my body. I’ve never been small and weightlifting started out with the thought that if I’m going to be large I may as well be strong. I am no longer as large as I was then but what I like best about my own body still are the things it can do. I know there are many body builders who train for looks, but function has always been master over form for me. I loved the austerity of that side of the gym, the unrelenting focus on steel and strength. We trained hard together and became friends, that other grad student and I, friends to this day. I did get the one B on my grad school transcript and since it just said "Fundamentals" I had to explain when I was on the job market that it was weight training, not logic or metaphysics. These days I go to the local Y on my own a few mornings a week and then on the weekend with my daughter. I’ve been thinking lately about how weight training connects to other issues of embodiment. There is a very neat weightlifting site on the web, stumptuous.com, with all sorts of advice and inspiration for women weight lifters. The site’s creator and ongoing author is Krista, or Mistress Krista to her training subjects and adoring fans. She’s also an academic with an interest in trans issues. For example, see this article on Weight Training for MTFs. She’s also the author of some very cool papers, such as The Bodybuilding Grotesque: The Female Bodybuilder, Gender Transgression, and Designations of Deviance and now has edited an anthology called Trans/forming Feminisms: Trans-Feminist Voices Speak Out. I think I should call her sometime and chat about weight lifting, embodiment, and trans theory. More on the joys of weight lifting to follow. These days I’ve been working  on some  of the Olympic moves, parts of them at least, and that’s been really fun. And all of this is absolutely essential for me  as part of surviving the January diet season, both watching in horror as friends partake in the annual calorie counting ritual and  holding fast to my own determination never to get on that particular yo-yo ride again.

Mexico Proposes Transsexual Rights

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By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

MEXICO
CITY (AP) — A Mexican congressman said Thursday he will submit a bill
in March that would amend the country’s constitution to guarantee the
rights of transsexuals and change civil laws to ensure they can legally
change their name and gender.

David Sanchez Camacho’s bill would
insert a paragraph into Article Four of the Mexican Constitution
stating that ”every person has the right to the recognition and free
exercise of their gender identity and their gender expression.”

Article
Four currently guarantees equal rights for women and men and states the
rights of children and families, but it does not mention homosexuals or
transsexuals. A transsexual is a person who has undergone a sex change
operation or whose sexual identification does not correspond with the
gender at birth.

Changes to the constitution need approval from
two-thirds of both houses of Congress and two-thirds majorities in at
least 16 of the 31 state legislatures.

Sanchez Camacho said he
had the support of his leftist Democratic Revolution Party, which holds
only about one-quarter of the seats in the lower house.

Transsexual activists said they hope other countries will present similar proposals.

Partly in response to a post, the age of innocence, on a friend’s blog, and partly in response to the decision of a mid-50s colleague to get engaged to a mid-20s doctoral student, I’ve been chatting with various people about age and relationships.  Now in the case of the mid-50s friend my reaction is both predictable and overdetermined. The May-December, student-teacher, relationship is so trite, so cliched, so fraught with potential problems, that it’s hard for me to look positively at it at all. It’s along the usual age-gender lines. He’s old and she’s young. And though he’s not her supervisor, they do work in the same field. I guess what bugs me there is the assumption that it’s what every man would want, if only they could have it. And this particular person seems only to date women in their 20s and 30s. Relationships come with an expiry date. Like bad produce, things end when they start showing their age.  This youth fetish isn’t treated like a fetish. Rather, it’s normative. The dream we’d all live if we could. And for me, it’s not my dream at all. I have pretty much zero attraction to my 18-22 year old undergraduates. To continue with the produce analogy, they seem underripe. Another friend put it this way, they don’t seem quite fully formed. And on turf which matters to both me and my students, the intellectual landscape of contemporary philosophy, we’re fundamentally unequals. So all of the my thoughts on the age difference issue are pretty negative. But then on my way home from Toronto today I got to reading a new collection of short stories, called Touchy Subjects, by Emma Donoghue (who is also, I’m lucky to say, a neighbour). One of the stories, "Speaking in Tongues," recounts from both points of view the story of events leading up to a one night affair between two women, one a 17 year old and the other a writer in her mid-30s. It only lasts one night–though both characters think the "love" word might be a possibility–because each cannot imagine that the other could possibly be interested in more. It’s a lovely story, funny and touching. I love the discussion between the two women regarding the wrinkles under the eyes of the older woman. Other stories are also wonderful. You can read a review of the whole collection on the Guardian’s website. And you can also read an interview with Emma about the ideas behind the collection. Me, I’ll keep thinking about age and relationships and I resolve to stop calling my colleague’s new wife-to-be "the child-bride."

In response to my last entry on looks and teaching evaluations, a friend asked whether I thought that students’ grades were influenced by professorial perceptions of their attractiveness. I can say that my students aren’t. No, not because I’m perfectly able to be objective. I do try to be aware of my own biases but even that awareness doesn’t go far enough. No, the grades I give aren’t influenced by how attractive I judge students to be because I grade their papers by student number, not name. I must admit that there are some fonts I like more than others. I also really dislike small type and coloured print. I also despise those slippy plastic folders that make stacks of essays topple over. I try not to overreact to the use of an apostrophe in the possessive of "it." I have a special comment I can cut and paste about the use of the phrase "the fact that." So all of this is just to say that there are some irrational criteria lurking around the edges of my grading practise but student looks aren’t part of it.

Sigh. Not only do better looking people earn more money, recent research conducted at the University of Texas shows that the ivory tower isn’t immune to bias on the basis of perceived attractiveness. Along with gender and race, it appears that looks affect evaluations of one’s teaching, in just the way you’d expect. For full details you can read the paper BEAUTY IN THE CLASSROOM by Daniel S. Hamermesh and Amy M. Parker. And in case you’re thinking who cares, note that there is an economic impact. Teaching performance is part of the basis on which faculty are evaluated for annual increases and evaluations by students make up a large part of this process. I’ve always known that my students care about my appearance–commentary on my fashion sense, choice of shoes, hair colour, and weight has made its way into the written section of their evaluations–but I’ve never seriously entertained the idea that it could affect their evaluation of my teaching ability. If part of my income rests on looks, I wonder if this increases the range of expenses eligible for a tax deduction? How about hair colour, teeth whitener, and botox as work-related expenses?   This makes me sad but I don’t know why I think the ivory tower I call home should be any different than the rest of the world. I guess I’d sorta hoped. Sigh again.

You read the full text of the Supreme Court decision  as well but here is a press release from Little Sister’s bookstore. I’ve been following the battles of this bookstore since my very first days of buying materials hard to find in Canada, due to Canada Customs.
———————————————————–
January 19,200

The Supreme Court of Canada today denied Little Sister’s application for advance costs to continue its landmark litigation against Canada Customs.
For more than a decade Little Sister’s has taken on "Big Brother"-in the words of Justice Binnie,the little bookstore on Davie Street "has borne the brunt of the battle on this branch of expression and equality rights".Today that battle has been lost by Little Sister’s -not because Canada Customs has been vindicated,
but rather because Little Sister’s does not have the financial resources to continue the battle. The current round of litigation arose from the banning of four books -two comic books and two books by Larry Townsend,a writer well-known in the gay community.Little Sister’s appealed the prohibition of these books and in the process of the appeal found evidence of Canada Customs continuing to disproportionately
detain gay and lesbian literature (0%of all items seized,as found by Justice Binnie),continuing to ban books that had been central to the Court’s findings in Little Sister’s #1 (e.g.Macho Sluts by Pat Califia),and that indeed Customs may not be living up to the commitment it made to the Court in Little Sister’s #1 -i.e.
that it had taken effective measures to remedy the systemic discrimination identified by the Courts in Little Sister’s #1.
The outcome of this case means that unless there is a litigant with pockets deep enough to take on Canada   Customs,the bureaucracy will continue to determine what Canadians can and cannot read,unscrutinized by public hearings.
Jim Deva,owner of Little Sister’s Bookstore,says that this is a very sad day in Canada for free expression, equality rights and access to justice.As noted by Justices Binnie and Fish,after successfully establishing the existence of systemic Charter violations in Little Sister’s #1,"the present issue is whether the rights
established in that case in principle have (or will)become rights in reality.""Today’s decision denies Little Sister’s,and indeed all Canadians,the answer to that important question.That can only be viewed as a setback to the expression rights,equality rights and access to justice for all Canadians." Joe Arvay,counsel for the bookstore,adds that "all Canadians should be deeply concerned about this erosion
of our expression and equality rights and access to justice."Mr.Arvay agrees with the observation of Justice Binnie who,with Justice Fish,dissented from the majority decision.Justice Binnie opined: “Today four books,tomorrow another four books.Litigation follows litigation until the rational businessperson is forced to throw in the towel.This is how civil liberties can be eroded,little by little,yields
in small increments that case by case are not worth the cost of the fight.It takes an unbusinesslike litigation like Little Sister’s to elbow aside purely financial considerations …and carry on what it sees as unfinished Charter business against the government.”
Media Contacts:
Jim Deva and Janine Fuller,604-669-1 53
Joe Arvay,604-505-1 28

I am a big fan of a wide variety of
labels when it comes to sexual and gender orientation: butch, boi, femme, high femme, queer, top, bottom, gender queer,
straight, gay, bi, lesbian, transgendered, etc etc. I’ve never lamented
the alphabet soup character of the names of the groups in the community. Keep adding to the
list, I say. When it comes to names for sex and gender orientations, let many flowers
bloom. (That last phrase, by the way, comes from Mao, who would be rolling in his grave to see it used here. The orignal Chairman Mao saying is "Let a hundred flowers bloom; let a hundred schools of thought contend." Of course he weeded out and killed many of those flowers but I still like the saying and here I mean it sincerely.) But while I am a raging liberal about labels—call yourself what
you want, what makes sense to you and I will make a lot of effort to
understand—there are some labels that make less sense to me than others. Here’s
one: bi-curious.

Of course, there are contexts when
bi-curious makes sense. Teenagers for one. Speaking as a formerly bi-curious
teenager. Likewise, people in long standing relationships with one person and
who fantasize but haven’t the kind of relationship that makes exploration
possible. One could, in such a situation, reasonably wonder and be curious.  So there are people for whom the label makes sense.

My puzzlement
comes about with those adults, not in life long monogamous relationships, who
use the label bi-curious to mark a long-standing sexual orientation. How long
can you remain curious? If a long-time, maybe you’re not that curious after all.
Life is short. Find out. Are you
bi or aren’t you? A friend suggested that it was really code for something like
“weakly bi.” A label for the sort of woman who might kiss another woman if the
woman was really cute and if she’d had a lot to drink and better yet, if there
was an appreciative male audience.  Maybe
we need more labels, like “If the Girls Gone Wild cameras are rolling
bi-sexual.” But this bi-curious thing. I’m not so sure.

I hope this isn’t an a case of wanting to have your cake and eat it too. What I am hoping is that there is some important distinction to be made here that will help me see why it is that at different times and in different contexts I hold contradictory views about politics and sexuality. (Some people may revel in contradictions but I’m a philosopher. I’m not allowed. I took an oath.) Some historical context may be necessary. I became a feminist, and then a lesbian, in the mid-80s. The order there matters since it was feminism that gave teeth to  my choice to come out. But that same feminism, and some of those same feminists, were not quite so supportive when some of my choices strayed from the true lesbian-feminist path.  I was never such a big fan of the androgynous dyke look. I didn’t like incense or candles and I didn’t think foot massages counted as sex. More explanation: There were at that point many women in my circle, or should I say womyn and cyrcle, who were political lesbians, that is, lesbians, not because they were attracted to women, or wanted to have sex with women, but because it was the right political choice. Hence, actual sex with actual women wasn’t on. Instead, they gave foot massages and so I called them the "foot massage lesbians." This was partly retaliatory since they accused those of us who were attracted to women and wanted to have sex as suffering from internalized oppression. If we flirted we were "replicating the male gaze." (I am not making this up.) Our goal ought to be, they thought, eroticizing equality. Bah. Now I write this with the confidence that comes with age. I was right and they were wrong.  But at the time it didn’t feel that way. I questioned the socialization behind many of my desires and earnestly tried to root those that didn’t pass my feminist scruples out of my system. Repeat after me: Butch-femme role models replicate patriarchal systems of gender oppression. Inner doubting voice: But butches are so hot. Repeat after me: BDSM eroticizes women’s oppression.  Inner doubting voice: Hmmm, it doesn’t feel like she’s oppressing me. And I’m embarrassed to say that I probably shared the pc view enough to espouse it to others. Mea culpa. I’m sorry. But after a time,  my testing of the patience and boundaries of the lesbian community strayed too far. I slept with men, called myself a bisexual, and threw the notion of sexual purity away. I decided that what felt good was good and decided politics could live in one part of my brain and sex the other. And part of me is still a sexual libertarian of this sort of stripe. If it feels good, do it. Whatever goes on between one or  two or more consenting adults, is fine by me.  It’s not my kink but I respect your kink. Safe, sane, consensual…that’s what matters….yada yada yada. There is no point having your politics interrogate your desires. Life is short. Be brave. Have fun. And now there are range of issues that keep the radical lesbian feminists on one side of the room and me on the other: disagreements about the worth of traditional feminine virtue, about the evils of essentialism, about pornography and sex, and most importantly, about the immutability of sex and about our understandings of transsexuality.
But here’s the other voice. Sometimes I want to say that sexual desire is political, that it’s not merely to be tolerated in private, but rather deserving of being celebrated in public. I want to claim the political importance of sex positive feminism. It’s not just that queer is who I am and there is no point trying to change it. Rather, we need out, loud, and proud parades for a wide range of people who don’t fit into neat and tidy conventional understandings of sexuality. in this mood, I am not just asking that feminism tolerate my tastes in pornography but that feminist theory be informed by them. I don’t want politics to interrogate our sexuality. Instead, I want our sexualities to interrogate politics. So the first view says, sex and politics are best kept apart. The second view says sex first, then politics. While these views don’t fit well together, they are both enemies of the view I tried on briefly in the mid-80s which said that politics ought to restrain our desire. And I’m still curious about the foot massage set. Did they ever manage to move beyond feet?

Yikes. Another term about to begin. New students. A brand
new class. You probably haven’t though much about this particular aspect of
professorial life but right now while I am still tidying loose ends from fall
term (missed exams, late papers, dead grandmothers) and grading the work of my
grad students who can’t have their work due in December because they are
helping me grade the undergraduates’ assignments and exams. This is a different
feeling than in September when one had much of August to think deep thoughts
about teaching and carefully prepare. January is a screaming madhouse of a
month and really all of this is fine except that the new class I’m about to
start is brand new, recently approved and added to the calendar. (I don’t think
students much notice the difference between September and January to classes
because for them too it’s a different feeling.) We’re just days away from the
start of term and I’m getting a bit nervous. I designed this new class and now
I get to teach it. Rule of university life, maybe life in general: No good deed
goes unpunished. Seemed like a good idea at the time but now I’m wondering.
Yes, I’ve read the books—which reminds me of one of my favorite professor jokes….Professor
Jones says to Professor Smith, “Read Wilbur’s new book Political Theory and the
Idealized Citizen?” Professor Smith replies, “Read it? I haven’t even taught it
yet.” …change title depending on discipline—but I still have many lectures to
prepare. The course is Global Justice so the material is pretty engaging. I
also expect the students who are there, all 80 some odd of them, are ones who
want to be in the class. Today I played with the latest version of web-ct—an online
teaching tool which randomly put my students into groups for their group
projects (don’t blame me, the computer program did it). It looks like it will
be very useful for the discussion features. With that many students we’ll need
a way to keep the conversation going past class hours. I’m also impressed by
the easy access it provides to university on-line resources. Because access is
limited to students in the class, and hence registered at this university, I
can place all sorts of materials there to which the university has copyright.
But for now it’s time for a back to school hair cut and colour, once each term
whether I need it or not, and to prepare my first lecture of a brand new class.
That’s still thrilling which I suppose, for them and for me, is a Very Good
Thing.