Amazons International # 74 ************************** Contents: Daniel Thomas-Kaylor: Misrepresenting the Female Form Svein Olav Nyberg: Tyra, Mother of the Wind Staci Backauskas: Bio & my book, The Fifth Goddess Date of publication: 10.06.2000 ********************************************************************* Date: Mon, 05 Jun 2000 17:41:20 GMT From: Daniel Thomas-Kaylor Subject: Misrepresenting the Female Form The Amazon archetype is a common figure in contemporary culture, and this is especially true of the genre comic books. Female heroines who are physically equal or superior to male opponents are extremely common. Catwoman, Wonder Woman, the Huntress, Rogue, Psylocke, Namorita, Warbird, Mantis, Moondragon, Phoenix, Storm, Cheshire, Lady Shiva, Spider Woman, Shadowcat, Elektra, Batgirl, Gamora, She-Hulk, Supergirl, the Black Cat and Big Barda vare all examples of the Amazon archetype. To quote Marvel Comic's Wonder Man, these ladies "don't just pose and point. They HIT people!" All this is well and good, and gives the young (usually male) reader examples of ferocious female role models. Unfortunately, the art that portrays them as ferocious females also robs them of their credibility. The heroines have their sensuality emphasized as their most powerful asset, above their muscles, skills and wits. Take, for example, the female body builders at the following URL: http://www.frsa.com/fgallry.html . Notice the shapes of their bodies. The women here are hard bodied and rippling, with well-developed pectoral muscles as opposed to breasts and larger hips. And at this Cynthia Rothrock site http://members.tripod.com/~mcrp/ , one sees a martial artist, hard bodied with small breasts. This is the reality of the athletic woman, the contemporary Amazon. Traditional gender roles in western society keep women as the physical inferiors of men. Our culture prizes the softness and roundness of the female form as feminine beauty. Now, observe this beautiful image from my own web site of the Amazonian Champion Artemis from the pages of Wonder Woman: http://members.tripod.com/~FirestarArtemis/15.jpg and notice the differences between this drawing and the photographs. The artist, Ed Benes, is a man of extraordinary talent, although several questions are raised by the visual he has presented. First of all, each of her mammoth breasts is as big as her head. As a warrior and an accomplished archer, shouldn't those things be getting in her way? Similarly, with hair that long, should she not be tripping over it? Also, here is a woman wearing a tight thong bathing suit as her combat attire (this is by no means the most revealing of Artemis' costumes. In the 1999 JLApe Wonder Woman Annual, her garb consisted of a series of spiked leather straps wrapped around her naked body). What exactly is holding this thing up? And what prevents it from snapping as she moves and fights? In the case of Artemis, I would suggest that her clothing is being held on by attitude and not much else. In the case of other heroines with low-cut and revealing outfits, your guess is as good as mine. Finally, take special notice of the spikes around her thighs and knees. For all her violence, willpower, brutality, and skill, Artemis cannot close her legs. Even more overly sensualized than Artemis is the heroine Fairchild of Gen 13. At http://www.fortunecity.com/tatooine/ellison/313/fairchild1.jpg you can see that this young heroine possesses the same super power as Artemis -- the ability to grow enormous breasts while possessing a lean and muscular frame otherwise. Amazing, is it not? The bodies of the female characters, as well as their raiment, has become the wonderful subject of parody, such as this example taken from the "YOU'LL ALL BE SORRY" column of http://www.comicbookresources.com , written by Gail. In this example, characters are writing to Miss Manners for advice. -- Dear Miss Manners, Oh, I do hope you can help me with my costuming quandary. I'm a superheroine who has not yet made her official debut. Like all superheroines, I am of course an ex-stripper/prostitute with a twelve inch waist and truly monstrous silicone-enhanced breasts. When I decided that being a superheroine was exactly what was needed to perk up my marriage, I ordered your pamphlet, "Miss Manners' How To Kick Ass (And Still Remain A Lady)." From the many costume ideas provided, I selected the one made out of a series of red bootlaces. Here's my problem. While the outfit looks simply stunning (passersby often slip dollar bills into the lacing), I worry if it's considered appropriate for the more somber appointments. For example, I'm particularly concerned about all the funerals I'll no doubt be asked to attend. Is an outfit made entirely of red bootlaces appropriate for, say, Hawkman's inevitable memorial service? Signed, Puzzled With No Panties Dear "Panties," May Miss Manners ask what it was like to be born in a barn and raised by wild hogs? Clearly, no other explanation is possible, as no hospital-birthed, human-raised child should ponder such a question for a moment. However, Miss Manners allows that some backwards nations, such as England, may not yet have been blessed with any real sense of nobility. Thus such a question may well be moot there, as we hear that they eat their own dead, without the formality of proper attire. Young lady, have they no black bootlaces in whatever backwards kudzu topiary it is you live in? Surely you realize that red is wildly inappropriate for such an occasion. If not, Miss Manners humbly hopes that the next funeral you attend will be your own. -- I see no end to the situation of women as frighteningly unrealistically drawn. Many proponents of this style in the art will argue that the male characters are not drawn realistically either, but this argument is invalidated by simply looking at the attributes of the male characters. Thor, Superman, Colossus, Wonderman etc. all possess large rippling muscles. They are STRONGMEN. This was the intent. Their muscles help them to be stronger. Catwoman's breasts do not increase her acrobatic or martial arts abilities, however, and are still enormous. Daniel Thomas-Kaylor ********************************************************************* Date: Sun, 30 Apr 2000 16:02:31 +0200 From: Svein Olav Nyberg Subject: Tyra, Mother of the Wind [Note from Editor: This is the fourth Tyra story. You can read the previous three in AI # 25, 30 and 45, respectively] Thus goes the legend of Tyra: Out of Nothing came the Wind, who begat her daughter the Rain. Earth was the daughter of Rain, and begat the Sun, Tyra's mother. It was in the rainy season in the year of the Cow, that Tyra begat a daughter. Aryat was barely two months old. How fragile a creature, Tyra thought. This is the beauty that life should have been. Aryat was standing opposite a frog, imitating its movements in the way that only children can imitate. Wimp was making baby dinner. That is, he was trying. Just like her mother when she was young, Aryat was growing at a pace the Andrians would have forbidden if they could. Tyra had the easy job. She just had to club an ox between the eyes every second week. But who had to flay, cut up and cook that same ox? Wimp! He decided to leave. That is, at least try. Or .. at least .. think about it very seriously. No, he had to be brave. He went to confront Tyra: "There seems to me to be a difference between men and women," he began, not to have a chance to continue for quite a few hours. "Yes," said Tyra, "that reminds me .." She scratched her head. "Back when I was young, around 8 .. I attended the Andrian military academy. That was when I believed they could teach me something. Anyway, women really weren't supposed to be in the army, or even in the academy. I was rather big and muscular, though, even by army standards, so their narrow minds could not take me for anything other than a man. So I was enrolled, and soon was known as cadet colonel Tyrus. But there are always those who distrust the people who are better than themselves. Viris, a tall pale student -- a strategic genius, but a real prick -- once caught me skinny-dipping, and I was quite visibly not male. "Tyrus," he stated in his dry manner, "or should I perhaps say 'Tyra'? I don't think the head of the school will be very pleased to hear we have a girl in our ranks. I am, however, not an unreasonable man, so if you agree to satisfying my sexual needs on a regular basis, I will not tell." I didn't find him worthy of a reply, but the next morning the rumor was out that there was a woman at the academy, and there would be a genital test. Not wanting to be thrown out of the academy yet, I decided to see Viris. "Viris," I said as I met him, "I need you to avoid getting caught." Gleeful, he suggested a thicket nearby. We went in, and he undressed the only part of him the Andrians would consider more male than me. What a moment of joy it was, to grab it for my own. Viris headed off into the mountains, to join the choir of castrate singers I believe. Anyway, as we all passed the test, he was assumed to be the woman in disguise. And as proof, Wimp, that men don't learn, there were 4 other new castrates in the mountain choirs that year. Wimp had just decided to break in between Tyra's childhood memories when a loud wail sounded from Aryat. "Equality between the friggin sexes," he muttered under his breath, as he went to fetch Aryat half an ox' leg to still her hunger. But Aryat was not hungry. Some monster of an Andrian soldier was attacking toddler Aryat. Or more precisely -- trying to kidnap her. Aryat screamed her rage as she beat her fists at the soldier. It was match of uneven strength, but the soldier prevailed: As Wimp came within sight of the fight, the soldier had managed to stuff Aryat into a big bag. "Tyra!" Wimp yelled "Aryat is being kidnapped!" Two thunders started simultaneously: The soldier riding off on his horse, and Tyra running up to rescue her daughter. But Tyra was not as fast as she was strong, and the horse trailed off towards the horizon... ---***--- To be continued ---***--- Svein Olav Nyberg solan@nonserviam.com ********************************************************************* Date: Fri, 19 Nov 1999 16:23:01 -0500 From: Staci Backauskas Subject: Bio & Background for my book, The Fifth Goddess "Don't Keep Your Dreams in a Box" The long and thorny story of creation and publication of my book, The Fifth Goddess Bob Fosse once said, "Bring me dancers who have to dance, not dancers who want to dance." Well, I don't have to dance, but I do have to write. I just didn't get around to accepting it until I was thirty-five. I've been writing since I was a kid -- poetry, short stories, and non-fiction pieces for newsletters and an occasional magazine, but didn't really believe I was good enough to get paid for it. Growing up, my dream was to live in Manhattan and work in advertising. The dream of having a Barbie wedding and raising a family that belonged to friends of mine wasn't in my sphere. I wanted an office on Madison Avenue and a career. I moved to New York City in 1989 and worked in the media departments of two well-known advertising agencies. But after four years, I felt overstressed and underpaid. Friends of mine convinced me to try sales. "You'll make so much more money," they promised. So I pursued several of the rep firms and was hired by one of the top two companies. During the summer of 1996, I was on a sales call and stopped at my favorite bookstore, Coliseum Books on 57th and Seventh Avenue. As I stood browsing through the hundred of books on display, I said to myself, "I want to have a book on one of these tables." I went back to the office and put an ad in The New York Press to start a writer's group and the Writer's Roundtable of Manhattan was born. I also signed up for a class that forced me to come up with an outline and I started my spiritual fiction novel, The Fifth Goddess. I worked on it off and on for the next few months. My job was very stressful and often involved after work activities with clients. Many nights I'd get home from work by eight and want to do nothing but grab something to eat and vegetate in front of the television. It's tough to be creative on demand. Then my mother called one night and told me about a writer's conference being held in Maui. Even though she wasn't making a lot of money, she offered to pay for my conference registration if I'd go because she knew how much writing meant to me. Now that I think about it, she probably was more aware of it than I was. We both registered and decided to take advantage of the program where you could send a synopsis of your book to them and they would have it reviewed by legitimate agents and editors. I forced myself to complete the forms by the deadline, allowing myself to observe the terror I felt. Several weeks later, I was on a sales call at an advertising agency and checked my voicemail. Between questions and crises was a message from a literary agent who'd read my synopsis and wanted to meet me while she was in town. I flew back to the office. We hit it off immediately and she agreed to represent me, even though I had barely written a hundred pages. I had recently changed rep firms and wondered how I was going to write and prove myself to my new employer at the same time. When I returned from Maui, I applied for and was accepted into an advanced novel writing class. Knowing I had deadlines to turn material into the class was a great motivator for me. Throughout my sales career, I hadn't been involved in a serious relationship. In fact, I hadn't really even dated. And in a business that knows how many magazines you have in the bathroom in the morning, this was major fodder for the gossip mill. Friends of mine confided that they'd been asked if I was gay. At first, my feelings were hurt. But then I actually got a kick out of the fact that some people feel the need to put a label on everyone. "If you're not in a relationship, you must be gay." To them, it's not possible that you have other interests that are more of a priority and that you'd rather expend your energy there than in a relationship. By the spring of 1998, I had been in advertising for almost ten years and selling for five. I was miserable. I had silently threatened to quit plenty of times during my sales career. I hated having to put on a happy-bouncy-perky face for people I didn't like. And I didn't care for the lying that is inevitably involved in any sales job. I especially didn't like the back stabbing-front grinning that was rampant. But I needed a plan. One of the stations I represented held a sales contest and I received a check for several thousand dollars in April. I opened a money market account, earmarking that money for living expenses after I resigned. For the next six months, I added to it whenever I could, knocking the total up to almost ten thousand. I had wrestled with the thought of resigning for years, but one morning in October of last year, I woke up and knew it was the day. After our sales meeting that morning, I tried to catch my boss, but she had appointments outside the office. At lunchtime her office was still empty. I was frustrated because I was anxious and wanted to resign before I changed my mind. Instead of panicking, I returned to my office and put to use a technique I learned in a prosperity class I had taken at the Unity Center. I wrote a letter to the angel of everyone who was to be involved in my resignation. My boss, my director of sales, the president of the company, the human resources manager and my important clients. I thanked them for releasing me from my position with love, abundance and acceptance. Then I grabbed lunch and waited for my boss. When I told her, she offered complete support. I was a vertebra in the backbone of her sales team, but she found it within herself to recognize the importance of this decision for me. I got the same reaction from everyone whose angel I had written to. There was nobody telling me I was crazy. There was no one saying, "I can't believe you're walking away from six figures to write a book." There was only encouragement. I worked in the city until November of 1998 and then found a place to live in an area of New Jersey that is near the beach but is also surrounded by horse farms. I knew I needed some time to decompress, so I gave myself permission to spend two weeks at home in Pittsburgh over the holidays, enjoying the company of family and friends like I'd not been able to before. I had no job to rush back to. No crisis to deal with. No angry client to appease. At the beginning of 1999, I found myself floundering. I hadn't realized how much of my identity was tied up in being a sales rep. The first question people ask you after you're introduced is, "What do you do?" It was a process learning how to answer, "I'm a writer." During that process, I opened a business making gift plaques and writing personalized short stories. I worked on a horse farm. I trained and became a certified teacher for The Princeton Review. And finally, toward the middle of February, when I could no longer deny that it was my destiny, I began to write. When I started I had 240 pages written. The book ended up being 520 and the second half was nothing like the outline. The book had always been predicated on the fact that we have voices in our heads whether or not we want to acknowledge the fact that they exist. I narrowed the number of voices to four -- fear, rebellion, logic and compassion -- and personified them as the Goddesses Erishkigal, Kali, Inanna, and Kuan Yin. That part stayed the same. But the original outline had the character's evolution leading her to develop a spiritual retreat center in Hawaii, getting married and having a child. That was until a friend of mine pointed out that the ending was a sell out. And I realized that I had succumbed to society's stereotype of what fulfillment means. I had to come clean with myself that even though I had always dreamt of being a career woman, that I had allowed myself to buy into our culture's belief that marriage and family was the only true path to happiness for a woman. Needless to say, the book turns out completely differently now. I still have the character, Rena, being guided on her spiritual path by the four Goddesses. I still have the narrative cut to a dialogue of the Goddesses arguing amongst themselves about Rena's next course of action when the situation gets a little to emotional for her to handle. And the premise that she learns to integrate the best aspects of each Goddess so that she emerges as The Fifth Goddess is still apparent. But I'm proud of myself that I was able to identify my false beliefs and overcome them. Back to my agent. I met with her while she was in New York during the spring of 1999. Then I played the waiting game, trying to relax while New York editors decided my fate. I tried to remember that I did my job. I walked away from a career that was making me miserable, even though it paid a lot of money, because I needed to finish my book. Now all I had to do was be patient and I would be rewarded -- right? But sometimes things don't work out the way you want them to -- they do, however, work out the way they need to. After several months of miscommunication and no results, I decided to let go of my relationship with my agent. Not because she was a bad person, but because she wasn't the person I needed to represent me. I was then faced with deciding whether I wanted to search for another agent, find a small press on my own, or try to publish myself. I was angry and disappointed. My agent had let me down. Where was my huge advance? How was I going to pay the bills? I was still teaching for The Princeton Review, but that wasn't enough to cover my monthly expenses. I wallowed for a couple of weeks and then got to work trying to find a smaller press to buy my book. I sent out dozens of letters to publishers whose names I found in the Writer's Market and got dozens of rejections. I did research on the Internet and discovered a co-operative publisher who charged the writer, but performed other services besides printing. My mother and several friends discouraged me from using them, claiming that the price they wanted for two-thousand copies was far more than what it would cost to do it myself. I, on the other hand, was very interested in their services. I insisted I didn't want the responsibility of finding an artist to design the cover, gathering printer's quotes, paying an editor and dealing with how to get the books to people who wanted them. These were all services this publisher would provide. But it was going to cost me close to $20 000. Not knowing where the money would come from, I said a prayer and affirmed that I was open to receiving whatever information I needed to get my book published. In contacting references that the publisher had given me, I had a great conversation with a gentleman in Alabama whose first book had been published by a non-profit press. To raise money, this press offered advance, autographed copies for $100. I thought that was a brilliant idea and began making a list of all the friends, family, business associates and celebrities who might be willing to invest $100 in me. I had over a hundred names! I quickly did the calculations in my head. Even at a 50% return I knew it would make a big dent in the costs. I drafted a letter from my heart, taking responsibility for seeing my agent as a mythical "white knight," offering a signed copy of The Fifth Goddess for $100 and asking for their help. My hands shook as I dropped the letters into the mailbox. But I still had to come up with the rest of the money. I got the lecture from my father on having a business plan. How much was it going to cost me for publicity, promotion, advertising, marketing? These were all things that the co-operative publisher wasn't going to devote much time to -- it was going to be up to me. Crunching the numbers made me ill. It was going to cost another $20 000 for six months of living expenses and promotion. Where was I going to come up with that kind of cash? Responses to my letter began trickling in. At first, I received several checks from close friends and family. Over the next few weeks other checks arrived, including one from Kathy Najimy (An American actress who's starred in Sister Act with Whoopi Goldberg and is fairly well known here on television)! I got a call from my former manager's assistant explaining that she didn't have the money to order a copy, but she offered her support and encouragement. The human resources manager from my last job wrote a couple of months later and ordered a copy. But none of my former teammates, management, buyers or clients responded at all. I wasn't expecting checks from everyone. But I thought I'd at least receive a phone call or e-mail of support from some of them. I was crushed. Sprinkling salt in the wound, a former close friend and teammate wrote me a long letter, prompted by mine, filled with insults and derogatory remarks about my choices. She accused me of "masterfully disguising my need for self-sabotage" as my dream. (Side note: I didn't write a letter to her angel because I figured we were friends and she would be supportive). After having a mini-nervous breakdown, I realized several things. First, that the letter was a reflection of every fear and insecurity I had. Today, I'm grateful she put them in black and white so that I could realize they weren' t true. Second, it lit a fire under my butt like nobody's business. Third, it made me realize, on a level I'd not been able to previously access, that what other people think of me doesn't matter. And last, I accepted that by living my dream, I was pushing a lot of buttons in people who were not living theirs. I began working like a maniac, learning everything I could about the publishing business. I began to make lists of what I needed to accomplish, what I needed to learn and how I could use my marketing/advertising background to my advantage. In other words, I ended up doing exactly what I said I didn't want to. Beware resistance. It's generally an indicator that whatever you're resisting needs to be done immediately. And as usual, I should've listened to my mother. A few weeks onto this part of the path, I panicked. I was deep into the money fears. I thought I believed that as long as I did what I knew I needed to do, that God/dess would take care of the rest. But my ego was giving my spirit a run for its money. Worries about bills and creditors washed over me. I brushed up on my typing skills and registered at several temp agencies. A week later, I found myself on assignment earning $10 an hour and wondering what the hell had happened to my life. I contemplated registering with an employment agency and getting a full time job. Did I really need to see this book published? I was sharing my woes with a very close friend one day and in no uncertain terms he let me have it. "Why did you bother to quit? Are you going to just let the manuscript mold in a drawer?" But where am I going to get the money to pay for all of this, I argued. "You've got money in a 401K. Cash it out. You're young enough. If it doesn't work out the way you want it to, you can always go back to work and get another 401K." I thought he was insane. And a minute later, I realized he was right. I owed this to myself. I was worthy of that kind of commitment. I prayed and meditated about it and with no fear, I cashed in two of my three IRAs. And the rewards have surpassed all of my expectations! I am blessed with incredible people in my life who have made this possible. And I need to acknowledge, for myself, that they are all a reflection of me. I' m always quick to take responsibility for whatever negativity I attract to me and I need to remember it works both ways. I was asked to do my first public reading at the Goddess 2000 Arts Festival in New York City in September. (As an aside, the project is incredible and I would recommend checking out their website at www.goddess2000.org). I've had to put my ego on the back burner many times. But that's OK, because my spirit knows much better than my ego does what's best for me. I heard a story once about a young man who was getting ready to graduate from high school. He had his eye set on a particular car that he wanted as a graduation present. For weeks, all he talked about was that car. Finally, graduation day came. His father called him into the study and gave him a box. The young man anxiously ripped off the wrapping paper. Inside was a bible. "How could you?" he screamed at his father. "I got good grades. I obeyed you all the time. And this is what I get?" He put the bible back in the box and threw it on the desk. He went away to college, got good grades, graduated at the top of his class and went on to make his own fortune in business. Not once did he speak with his father. One day he got a telegram telling him that his father was on his deathbed. He got on a plane and flew home. But he was too late. His father was gone. After the funeral, he sat in his father's study. And he noticed that on the desk was his graduation present. He opened the box, removed the bible -- and out fell the key to the car he'd wanted. Sometimes the gift we say we want doesn't come in the package we imagine it will. The real gift is being open to receiving the gift in whatever form it comes. There are now 3000 books in my living room. My website is up and running at www.fifthgoddess.com and now the real work begins. I know this book has an important message. And I plan to do everything I can to make sure it's a success. And I have all of this because I was willing to go through the process -- to have the courage that together, God/dess and I, could survive the transitions that were necessary to get me here. You can read more about the Fifth Goddess here: http://www.fifthgoddess.com/ Staci Backauskas fifthgoddess@sprynet.com ***************************************************************** * Amazons International * * Thomas Gramstad, editor: thomas@ifi.uio.no * * Administravia/Listserver: amazons-request@ifi.uio.no * * Submissions: amazons@math.uio.no * * http://www.math.uio.no/~thomas/lists/amazons.html * * * * The Amazon Connection -- Links to Amazon web sites: * * http://www.math.uio.no/~thomas/lists/amazon-links.html * ***************************************************************** "A Hard Woman is Good to Find" -- The Valkyries