I deleted my poem about the Olympics because, despite the sincerity of my sentiments (and even the thumbs up from LQ; to whom I recited the work while she baked me a Valentine’s day key lime pie) it was a bad poem, stylistically speaking. Really bad. That doesn’t mean, by any stretch of the imagination, that I’m coming to terms with the Olympics. I’m not.
One thing LQ and I were talking about on Valentine’s day (because we went to her roommate’s burlesque show at the Cafe Cleopatra) was how difficult it still is for a man who wants to wear a dress to go to some places in public. At Cleopatra there was a man in a dress who would get up on stage between the acts and dance; dance just a little, mind you, with not too flashy steps on the darkened stage, while the next act prepared behind the curtain.
But, there are still so many places where a man, if he showed up in a dress, would likely be ridiculed and could very well be beaten enough to be put in the hospital…maybe killed, who knows? It doesn’t happen that much because men in dresses just won’t go to these places. LQ told me about some club on St. Laurent (Balroom) she had gone to a while back that was just like this: the men she said were like caricatures of men and the women were caricatures of women—they were taking the performance of their gender as far as they possible could—and there’s just no space in places like this for anyone who doesn’t want to play the game.
I won’t expand on this point here because if you know what I’m talking about then you already know what a tragedy it is that the world is full of homophobic gender imprinted douchebags and if you don’t know what I’m talking about then I suggest you put on a dress (if you are a man) and go to Balroom and see how long it takes for some guy who is way too insecure about his own sexuality to put the hurt on you. If you are a woman you can dress up as a man and go pretty much anywhere (except Humboldt, Nebraska) and you will be fine. This is one of the very few cases where men get the short end of the stick when it comes to the performance of their gender role…or perhaps I am wrong. I’d be happy to be corrected on this point.
Anyhow, back to the Olympics. When I see pictures like this:
…I honestly have to say I feel pity for the athletes and, at the same time, general disgust for the system that produces them. Why the hell does every individual effort have to be draped in the flag? It’s tragic because maybe there are people out there who could be really good at sports, but because they don’t want to parade around like a brainwashed goof with a flag on their back they will never ever get the chance to compete on the world stage.
I’m also very annoyed by the up-swell of nationalism that surrounds these games and I feel like the same kind of self-worth that generally is constructed through a correct performance of with masculinity or feminity has been taken up and turned into a construction of self-worth based on the proper performance of these poor kids as symbolic aspects of the nation itself.
And, I expect that I’d see a gender-hate-like reaction to a rejection of national pride if one of the athletes decided not to go in for the anthem and the flag and all of that—this person would probably be lynched in the streets; or at the very least castigated for life in the press and popular imagination—like an eternal Jane Fonda of the sporting world.
This is complicated, of course, by the fact that governments do fund sports programs for a lot of lesser known sports and naturally they want some kind of return on their investment and they return they want is that if the athlete wins, he or she will jump around like an asshole with the flag and pump up the national myth in some way or another.
To what extent is this deal with the state a deal in good faith, however, and to what extent is it a deal in bad faith; akin, for example, to a company like Coca-Cola having exclusive rights to sell their product in a particular school district in the hopes that they will build up an unbreakable brand connection with children?
It’s not such a stretch to make these connections because the Olympics, as much as they are about nationalism mixed with a kind of gold-induced rabies, are ostensibly about corporate advertizing on a grand and global scale. You need look no further than the fact that the greatest Canadian hero (the one who lit the torch in Vancouver) was Wayne Gretzky. Can anyone even count how many products this guy is endorsing at the moment? When he lights the torch for Canada is he also lighting it for Esso, McDonalds, General Mills, Visa and whatever other companies are mailing him a cheque each month to pretend he cares about their products?
I’ve been trying to avoid the Olympics as well as I can, wishing it would end as soon as possible, and feeling thankful I don’t live in Vancouver or I’d be mad as hell about the suppression of free speech, corporate sponsorship, massive cost overruns and general graft and evil that follows the Olympic big top around wherever it goes, but it’s hard because every single media outlet in the country is giving free advertizing to the games right now and so I can’t go anywhere in the big city without the five rings hitting me in the face and getting back into my mind. Even this blog post is acknowledging the Olympics in its way; although I’ve tried my best not to put a positive spin on things.
So anyhow, as bad as my poem was, I stick by the premise that the Olympics basically sells a city and a country a big bottle of snake oil and then leaves them sick and in debt when they skip out of town.
One thing LQ and I were talking about on Valentine’s day (because we went to her roommate’s burlesque show at the Cafe Cleopatra) was how difficult it still is for a man who wants to wear a dress to go to some places in public. At Cleopatra there was a man in a dress who would get up on stage between the acts and dance; dance just a little, mind you, with not too flashy steps on the darkened stage, while the next act prepared behind the curtain.
But, there are still so many places where a man, if he showed up in a dress, would likely be ridiculed and could very well be beaten enough to be put in the hospital…maybe killed, who knows? It doesn’t happen that much because men in dresses just won’t go to these places. LQ told me about some club on St. Laurent (Balroom) she had gone to a while back that was just like this: the men she said were like caricatures of men and the women were caricatures of women—they were taking the performance of their gender as far as they possible could—and there’s just no space in places like this for anyone who doesn’t want to play the game.
I won’t expand on this point here because if you know what I’m talking about then you already know what a tragedy it is that the world is full of homophobic gender imprinted douchebags and if you don’t know what I’m talking about then I suggest you put on a dress (if you are a man) and go to Balroom and see how long it takes for some guy who is way too insecure about his own sexuality to put the hurt on you. If you are a woman you can dress up as a man and go pretty much anywhere (except Humboldt, Nebraska) and you will be fine. This is one of the very few cases where men get the short end of the stick when it comes to the performance of their gender role…or perhaps I am wrong. I’d be happy to be corrected on this point.
Anyhow, back to the Olympics. When I see pictures like this:
…I honestly have to say I feel pity for the athletes and, at the same time, general disgust for the system that produces them. Why the hell does every individual effort have to be draped in the flag? It’s tragic because maybe there are people out there who could be really good at sports, but because they don’t want to parade around like a brainwashed goof with a flag on their back they will never ever get the chance to compete on the world stage.
I’m also very annoyed by the up-swell of nationalism that surrounds these games and I feel like the same kind of self-worth that generally is constructed through a correct performance of with masculinity or feminity has been taken up and turned into a construction of self-worth based on the proper performance of these poor kids as symbolic aspects of the nation itself.
And, I expect that I’d see a gender-hate-like reaction to a rejection of national pride if one of the athletes decided not to go in for the anthem and the flag and all of that—this person would probably be lynched in the streets; or at the very least castigated for life in the press and popular imagination—like an eternal Jane Fonda of the sporting world.
This is complicated, of course, by the fact that governments do fund sports programs for a lot of lesser known sports and naturally they want some kind of return on their investment and they return they want is that if the athlete wins, he or she will jump around like an asshole with the flag and pump up the national myth in some way or another.
To what extent is this deal with the state a deal in good faith, however, and to what extent is it a deal in bad faith; akin, for example, to a company like Coca-Cola having exclusive rights to sell their product in a particular school district in the hopes that they will build up an unbreakable brand connection with children?
It’s not such a stretch to make these connections because the Olympics, as much as they are about nationalism mixed with a kind of gold-induced rabies, are ostensibly about corporate advertizing on a grand and global scale. You need look no further than the fact that the greatest Canadian hero (the one who lit the torch in Vancouver) was Wayne Gretzky. Can anyone even count how many products this guy is endorsing at the moment? When he lights the torch for Canada is he also lighting it for Esso, McDonalds, General Mills, Visa and whatever other companies are mailing him a cheque each month to pretend he cares about their products?
I’ve been trying to avoid the Olympics as well as I can, wishing it would end as soon as possible, and feeling thankful I don’t live in Vancouver or I’d be mad as hell about the suppression of free speech, corporate sponsorship, massive cost overruns and general graft and evil that follows the Olympic big top around wherever it goes, but it’s hard because every single media outlet in the country is giving free advertizing to the games right now and so I can’t go anywhere in the big city without the five rings hitting me in the face and getting back into my mind. Even this blog post is acknowledging the Olympics in its way; although I’ve tried my best not to put a positive spin on things.
So anyhow, as bad as my poem was, I stick by the premise that the Olympics basically sells a city and a country a big bottle of snake oil and then leaves them sick and in debt when they skip out of town.
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