“Do you know what the gender is?” is the question people most frequently ask expecting parents, including me. Usually, I give the conventional response: “No, we are waiting to be surprised.” But occasionally I offer up one of my two real answers, “We don’t know the sex or the gender” or “I don’t really believe in gender anyway.”
Eyebrows are raised. And then a series of explanations follow.
Sometimes I go into a long monologue, à la feminist philosopher Judith Butler, about gender being a fiction, consisting of two opposite categories and a series of staged acts that we tacitly agree to “perform, produce, and sustain.” On the most basic level, why is blue is the agreed upon costume color for boys, while pink is the color for girls?
Picture this. On route to an appearance on Meet The Press, the vice president engages in a sexually explicit conversation with her lover. Her staff, overhearing, blushes at the graphic nature of the conversation and quickly ushers her into the car, switching the topic from innuendo to the hardline immigration stance she will be taking on air.
Welcome to television’s new world of women and politics: that actually happened on HBO, two Sundays ago. This spring, both ABC and HBO launched two new shows, Scandal and Veep, respectively—that portray women in politics as a sexy, powerful and fun. Both are refreshing departures from the real world of politics and even the cloistered asexuality of The West Wing.
In the cultural imagination, female political figures rarely get to be sexy and powerful. This is partly because politics is still a male-dominated world. Data compiled by the Center for American Women and Politics at Rutgers University show that women currently hold 16.8 percent of the 535 seats in Congress and 23.7 percent of the seats in state legislatures. There are six female governors; of the 100 big-city mayors, twelve are women.
Yesterday, the GOP-led House voted to approve the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA), trending as #fakevawa on Twitter, almost exclusively along bipartisan lines with 222 members voting in favor and 205 against.
First passed in 1994 with broad bipartisan support, VAWA originally provided $1.6 billion in funding toward the investigation and prosecution of violent crimes against women, extended victim’s rights for redress and established the Department of Justice’s Office on Violence Against Women.
Full disclosure: as a rape survivor, I have been a direct beneficiary of VAWA’s funding for I, like millions of women across the country, went to my local rape crisis center for help. Since then, through my work as a university professor and the co-founder of A Long Walk Home, a nonprofit that empowers college students to end campus sexual assault I have witnessed firsthand how VAWA’s Grants to Reduce Sexual Assault, Domestic Violence, Dating Violence and Stalking on Campus Program have increased resources for victims and prevention programs on campuses all over the country.
Last week, the Nebraska Supreme Court upheld a decision that a woman from Kansas could be sent to jail if she refused to testify against the man she accused of sexual assault.
The 24-year-old woman initially filed charges in August 2012 against a 63-year-old Nebraska man for sexually assaulting her when she was 7 years old. Last year, however, she refused to testify in court because she felt it would bring further shame and humiliation to her family. In response, Lancaster County District Judge Paul Merritt threatened her with a contempt charge and ninety days of jail time, saying that the case hinged on her testimony.
Unfortunately, this case is not unique but part of growing trend of criminalizing rape survivors in order to guarantee their testimonies at trial.
“Why aren’t you and your boyfriend married after almost fourteen years of being together?” I’m often asked. “Well, it seems wrong to get legally married when many of our friends can’t,” I say. 
People often greet my response with an awkward silence. But, the pause is a question itself: What if heterosexual couples voluntarily refused the benefits of marriage that are denied to most of our gay and lesbian friends and family?
Last week, the issue of marriage equality roared back in the headlines when President Obama stated that he believes gay and lesbian Americans have a right to marry. While his speech was heavier on the rhetoric than the politics, it did capture a growing ideological shift amongst Americans, especially young voters, from that of antipathy to empathy to public support.

I am weighing in late on the HBO’s “Girls” phenomenon. There have already been various and valid concerns about the show for its racially monochromatic casting. (For some of the most thoughtful criticism on this point, see Dodai Stewart’s “Why We Need to Keep Talking About the White Girls on Girls”, Kendra James’ “Dear Lena Dunham: I Exist” and Jenna Wortham’s “Where (My) Girls At?”)
Nevertheless, I wanted to watch a few episodes and understand how its interior world worked before belatedly entering the fray.
The real problem with our society’s obsession with the celebrity baby bump is not what it shows, but rather what it hides.
Everywhere you turn, celebrity women are sporting the baby bump. Jessica Simpson shared her naked bump on the April cover of Elle. Actress Nia Long struck a similar pose on the cover of Ebony back in October. And both were clearly homages to Annie Leibovitz’s iconic Demi Moore photo of 1991.


