10月15日星期天晚上，我在我的社交媒体时间线上看着女性勇敢，脆弱地分享他们的性侵犯和性骚扰的故事，作为集体谈话标记的一部分# MeToo。在阅读最初的三个股票之后，我撰写了自己的#METOO POST，写下我没有以为我知道一个没有经历过某种形式的性欲暴力的女人。在两个小时内，数百名朋友，同事和前学生将他们的声音添加到戒律，悲伤，失望，愤慨，沮丧和伴随着#metoo的愤怒。我经历过它，就像它是一个诙谐的气氛，被话语渐强。As a Black feminist anthropologist who studies, teaches, and experiences the intricate ways patriarchy, misogyny, and misogynoir shape our educational institutions and lives, you would think I wouldn’t have been surprised by the sheer vastness of the stories this hashtag brought to the digital surface. But I was. And I simultaneously wasn’t. I knew the boundless reach of sexualized violence, and yet seeing its pervasiveness in the most-heartbreaking narratives of those in my communities made it more real. And then to see a few men in my timeline express shock, disbelief, and dismissive sentiments—as if they haven’t been listening to us for decades, generations—made me angry. However, it was the silence from the majority that made me livid. But isn’t silence part of how oppression works?
我最近遇到了博客帖子顽皮的图书馆员和智力的色情，这些声明在现代生活中解释了“性感图书管理员”形象的持久吸引力。Aside from the post’s dismissable evolutionary psychology conclusions, the author raises some interesting points about the ways the image of the librarian in our culture intersects with and embodies certain aspects of modern eroticism, grounding his or her (the author is identified as “J.M. McFee” with no bio) argument in a highly individualized literary psychological approach.
性感图书管理员作为美国性心理的一个方面，这一隐喻让我感兴趣了很长一段时间——事实上，它激发了我对美国文化中的性的学术兴趣，并最终驱使我进入女性研究领域。所以我很想知道这个j。m。麦克菲会说些什么。不幸的是，在没有任何历史或文化背景的情况下，我发现麦克菲的思考相当无用。例如，“眼镜和印刷媒体已经足够古色古香，就像吊袜带和骑用庄稼一样被盲目崇拜”的论点。可以be true (though I rather doubt it, since eyeglasses and books are very much part of our daily lives in a way that garter belts absolutely aren’t) but even so, it doesn’t tell us very much about why librarians have become so idealized and not, say, book store clerks, editors, or opticians.