This is yet another article attempting to explain the differences between male and female conversation, this time stating that conversation is gendered from childhood and stems form the different ways in which girls and boys play (girls in small groups, boys in larger team games).
Yet again we are bombarded with the ideas that women's talk is less aggressive; that men are all about one-up-man-ship.
This idea of men always needing to get one over the other lads has now been taken so far there is a new TV show about to air called The Hunks in which 10 strapping blokes essentially go for a bit of a lads holiday in Newquay and compete for the love of the locals. They are followed by cameras 24/7and the audience are giving a no-holds-barred insight into their hearts and minds, covering everything from love to marriage, fidelity, sex and fatherhood. Think Baywatch meets Jersey Shore
Seriously, if this kind of thing is what passes for ‘normal’ male conversation I cannot explain how happy I am to be a woman. Although all this has got me thinking that I’ve never seen my male friends act in this way… Is it because they are not as “butch” as other men, or as a woman am I turning a blind eye to this competitive style of men’s conversation. Or has television once again just managed to grossly contort the truth.
Anyway, that’s my rant over; I will get to what I was actually thinking.
As a group of women chatting we have done really well, but can we really see what we are doing differently from men’s conversation without there being any men there? I can’t help but feel that the only thing the project is missing at the moment is a man, as a control subject.
So, in the spirit of the project I propose some kind of competitive aspect to the performance. Something that hints at the child like game play that the speakers have talked to us about, and the need to constantly be ‘top dog’ in male conversation. Maybe done in that way from the exercise the other week where the words ‘I’, ‘you’, ‘me’, and ‘we’ are replaced by only using ‘she’ or ‘he’.
'The only thing thats missing is man as a control subject?
ReplyDeleteThinking about the ways male and female converse to, with or at each other. Perhaps this is true is it learnt early on, 'top dog'. With reference to Cameron (the bloke who unfortunately is our PM) STATING TO A FEMALE 'CALM DOWN DEAR' It then bieng reffered to as almost satirical reference to the Director Micheal Winner who is a non pretty cambridge boy, thats why he is in films,he surrounds himself with 'Birds'WITH NOT MUCH FEATHER!! MISTAKE CAPITAL M
He She We and of course the I
Removing the I from conversation is really interesting to do. One thinks that bieng refferred to as a she, to another person whilst bieng there is an interesting and derogatory experience. It often comes down to lacl of awarenss of which the male and the female are guilty.
The Most Patronising ever
The most patronising experience i have had in recent years was working on a funded project that required creative members of the public (Joe Bloggs for the box ticking / artist for the pickin) Having just gave up my time to help an institution try and keep funding. That the term for dosh that is made available to in this case a man who was facilitating (because he was paid some dosh) whilst constantly promoting himself as an artist not at the top of the food chain but considerable higher then the people in the project (the ones that basically if they were not there then neither would he be) As a means of a jesture he turned to a female who had eloquently just presented to a group and said' Your here' and made a measurement height jesture that would make me up to just below knee height the height of a small child. Gradually he became slightly more aware but still managed to but in on a breifing for a joint exhibition with 'Yes, i reaslly interested in the relation shio with sport and...'I m not rather play with my dolls and switch off'. Any way so glad you made Mr Minsky (you can edit that last line if you need to sisters)
There once was a feminist called Germaine Grear
ReplyDeleteWho postponed at the end of the year
She is to busy to come for fifteen a ticket
Were precious for free, the sisters and me
So to you, im afraid its a bra burning- STICK iT!!
To Perform or not to
ReplyDeleteThe show goes on.. I agree with Ashlee otherwise its a waste of an opportuntity.
I think i would rather be told to calm down and called ' A DEAR' then Talked down and called 'A PARTICIPANT'
ReplyDelete(A Artist.~
Perform and Promote
ReplyDeleteI have decided to take part in the night 'Magic animals recently put together by Jackie Hagan on of the poet speakers who came to A O Con. I t will be mostly poem , you can do monologues. I am doing a tribute 4 mins to whoever the girl is that thinks shes had a fling with a proffessor. 9th May Sandbar 7.30pm its a way to say what art of con is and what we are doing
Bless me sister for i have sinned.
ReplyDeleteI confess. Whilst sat in the row of year 2 Ward House, named after some catholic dude ( Ward were a bit dsfunctional comapared to Arrowsmith and Clitherowe houses, but no where near Barlow which were challenged (in everyway possible). I looked up at Sister Bernadette with her Grey Two Piece and Shoulderlength viel (actually i sometimes liked the look, especially the white bit around the collar, wondered did channel robb that fashion trick from sister Berney. When completely fazed out watching her lips move and wondering what the hell she had been going on about for the last 40 minutes, i thought i heard a noise. I was respectfull looking with me gigs and breifcase but just always in the wrong place at the wrong time, novice terms anyway. it was my tummy, It never normally makers a noise, neither do my farts, so i never knew why this pregnant whoopy vibrated out and around the whole circumfrance of the main hall pausing sister Bs speech sermon of 'The Hollies Girls Mount' I was the second to last in the row with hundreds of eyes bursting to laugh. I had already been on report for smoking in the grotto. Only one thing for it, i turned around and blamed the quite girl with the platts, by a hand gesture waving the imaginary odour, the other hand pinching my Nose, my face pretending to go bllod red with pressure. Everyone fell for it, apart from David Faulkners sister (my brothers best mate) who always was a bit of a nosey cow