Phallic Friday - Madonna/Whore Complex

At the 2016 RWA Conference, I attended a day at the Academic Conference where papers were presented by students and staff working in the areas of popular culture and creative writing. I heard papers on varying topics, but the theme that was most interesting to me was the one where women experience a Madonna/Whore complex. It was a thread in a few of the papers presented.

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this dichotomy - where women are expected to be like a Madonna (is the Virgin Mary one, not the pop star one!) on the one hand - virginal, meek, mild, non-questioning, nurturing, full of mothering, loving goodness. Yet, is also expected to be a whore - being true to her needs, getting what she wants, wearing what she wants, doing what she wants.

This complex isn't necessarily confined to sex, but it's a constant push-pull for many females just in regular life decisions.

Family and societal pressures create it the most within me. Let me give you a very simple example: My aim in life was to move to the country and own a horse. I worked towards doing this, and when I finally got a job in the country, within the next few weeks death and ill-health affected my family - the one I'd left behind in Sydney when I moved. I was 23, a month into my new job, just striking out in my career. Not from within my immediate family, but from the wider family and friends, I was subjected to quite a big push to 'come back home and care for the family'. I'm the eldest, so I could see why people expected me to take on this responsibility (ie be the Madonna) - but damn it, it was my life to lead my way (ie be the whore) and that was to live in the country.

Thank goodness Mum, who was very much a Madonna, was quite adamant that I should follow my dreams and do what I wanted to do, because I would have caved. If she hadn't kept me propped up in my beliefs, I would have given into the pressure to look after everyone else. I would have hated myself, I would have been a miserable bitch, but I'd have done it (grudgingly).

So many times, I get pushed into being the Madonna that I'm not. And it really really bugs me when I realise what I've done.

On the other hand, when I stand my ground and be the whore I want to be, sometimes that hurts because you're exposed to criticism and ridicule, ostracised or excluded.

I think I'm going to spend many many weeks exploring this theme - maybe I won't bore you with it every week! It's got me completely fascinated.

Wildlife Wednesday - bird baths

We have a tap in the front garden with a concreted "bowl" beneath it. It came with the house, but it seems that the previous owners used it as a bird bath, so I have continued the tradition.

Throughout the day, birds seem to take their turn at bathing. Around the 4 pm mark, the Rainbow Lorikeets have their turn. They have an all in, very noisy, very splashy bathing routine. It's like family groups come down for a swim!

The rosellas come earlier in the day and they're so much more dignified. They bathe singly, with others standing guard. Sometimes it's just a pair, but often a few stand guard and wait their turn. Should anyone come, there's a call from the trees or the fence, and bathing bird is away. They each seem to spend roughly the same time bathing, which is cute :)

The Masked Plovers don't really bath. They splash water on themselves, drink, and preen.

The cockatoos, corellas, and galahs seem to prefer a bird bath on a stand that is wider as well. It also came with the house and is out the back. Koels have also bathed in the larger sized bath.

I like a bathtub that fits me. I like to sprawl out and soak. Relax my shoulder muscles as I sink into the depths. I'm not terribly fond of the tubs where your knees are under your armpits and you do a quick splash without the joy of soaking! So I completely understand the birds needs for a suitably sized bath!

Do you like a good soak in the bath?

Phallic Friday - limits/taboos

I read a very interesting post (here) on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association blog, written by Lisabet Sarai. She always writes thoughtful, thought-provoking posts.

Her post was about taboos and limits in erotic writing. She's questioning what taboos and limits should exist, or should there be any? Is it a personal decision, or one that should be made for people?

She lists some taboos, which are becoming more commonplace in published erotic writing - rape, incest, bestiality - and gives reasons for and against, asking if they should still be 'banned'.

Then she explores a few taboos that aren't common in published erotic writing - sex with minors, violence, physical harm, death.

She makes some very good points about how 'rules' have changed in recent times, or how they've been bent to include different fads. Then she has this beautiful paragraph, which I love -

"In my view, erotica should not only turn readers on, but should also expand their perspectives. Sex is inextricably intertwined with so many other emotions—love, guilt, ambition, shame, anger, and compassion, to name just a few. Erotica derives its singular power from this psychological complexity. It’s not a safe genre, or at least it shouldn’t be. Sometimes the most arousing stories are the most disturbing."

There's something in those words that clangs a big gong in my chest. That's why I write erotica, to explore, to expand, to question, to understand. I want to dig into those emotions through story, to help unravel the giant mystery of emotion and sex and connection.

Erotica isn't safe. That's what I find thrilling.

It's not safe reading it, or writing it. I learn things about myself as I read and write - I can be shocked at my own double standards, my lack of critical thinking of issues, my lack of understanding of another's perspective or life choice.

Sometimes I can be writing and my words pull up as my brain can't take me any further into the topic. It's where my thinking has stopped, or where my limit is, or where my knowledge fails. It's always enlightening to reach that point, to see where/what it is.

Sometimes when reading, I may have to stop a book, or put it down until later because the topic has slapped me in the face, or I just can't handle the scene. Finding that point in myself is intriguing. Niggling at it to work out why, or why not, is fascinating.

In a completely non-erotic example, when I was in high school we had to read John Steinbeck's The Red Pony. The opening scene is horrific with a horse being cut open and dying (I vaguely think it was a caesarean, but maybe I'm wrong, it was a long time ago!). I loved horses and longed for my own, so this hit a wall inside me - I wanted a horse and they were 'wasting' them in this book. I also have a vivid imagination and Steinbeck's description was rather gruesome, creating vivid images in my mind which became recurring nightmares. I've never read that book (I bargained with my teacher and read a couple of others instead). In truth, I have never picked up a Steinbeck book or even wanted to. No matter how much people tell me of his genius. That's my limit. It may have changed - I'm sure it would have - but I haven't gone back to test it out!

I'm not fond of violence, horror, torture, humiliation, degradation. But I understand that other people like these things. I don't think because these are my limits, they should be banned. I think I should be entitled to choose. It should be a personal decision.

How do you feel about 'rules' in erotic publication?

Do you have limits/taboos you can't read/write?

Masked Plovers

We have Spur-winged Plovers (also called Masked Plovers) around all the time. Each year, we have a pair lay eggs in our yard, but the last few years, it's been on our roof. One year a chick ended up being swept down the guttering and dying in a rainstorm. They don't have much luck keeping chicks alive even though the parents are fiercely protective and move their chicks regularly.

Anyway, this year they gave a me rough time when I went out to the garbage bin - and I guess it was the day the chicks hatched. So I had stern words with the swooping pests, telling them it was my yard and I wasn't looking for chicks to feed. Gosh, I hoped the neighbours didn't hear me negotiating with birds!!

A couple of days later, the parents brought their brood to visit me. I'm sure that's why they were in the yard making such a racket!

Here's Mum and Dad and the 4 chicks. I think the chicks are cute bits of fluff on stick legs :)

Sadly, I haven't seen them again. I'm hoping some of the chicks have managed to survive. At least none were washed away in rain this year, so that's one less threat.

The local pets, cats and dogs, are the most serious threats but wildlife too. One year I saw the parents chasing a hawk/eagle away from the area above my house, which was quite spectacular. I wasn't sure who'd win that, but the bird of prey left after about 15 mins.