OFF MY New Pornograph Albums

BREAST

By Dolores Dempsey

Music is a part of my life's blood. When I hear it, it evokes energy from the depths of me, creating feelings and moving them, causing them to well up. The feelings come out of my body, to express my inner self and to relate to the outer world.

Prior to my feminist awakening, the musical messages I related to hooked me in ways that made me react emotionally, without much control-uncomfortably. Yet, because of my love for rhythm, movement, and the infinite variety of sound, I continued in confusion.

Feminism has given me a strong, solid board on which to bounce off sight, sound, feeling and thought, in order to relate my inner self to the outer world. I became musically politicized. Now I can more freely choose which pieces of music I can healthily relate to, because the feminist musical messages help me relate in a strong, free way, without hurting me-without hooking me into a victimized, conquered object.

One 30-minute stroll through my local music store barraged me with the following images. I bring these images to your awareness to point out my deep concern over ways we are conditioned and socialized into responding to music.

The first album, by the group Fotomaker (Atlantic), depicts the head of a 3or 4-year old girl, blond hair blowing, huge brown eyes, and a very moist, red mouth, open slightly in the familiar Madison Avenue "pure, child-like innocence" look. Some of the titles on the back are "Where Have You Been All My Life", "Can I Please Have Some More", "All There In Her Eyes", "Two Can Make It Work", "Plaything" and "Pain". Child rape mentality blatantly communicated. Outrageous!

Foreigner (Atlantic), which I understand is on the slide show put together by Women Against Pornography in New York City, features a young woman in heels and white bobby socks, cringing against a wall next to the urinals in a men's washroom. Her look of pure fear communicates a terror of imminent death. The list of pieces is awful-"Dirty White Boy" (probably the truest title), "Love On The Telephone", "Woman", "I'll Get Even With You", "Head Games", and "Do What You Like".

On "The Best of Scorpions" (RCA), a back view of a nude body captures mostly the trunk and rear end. One cannot definitely distinguish it as female, but the flash of hair at the top, reaching far down the body, suggests that it's supposed to be female. There's a scorpion clinging to the trunk of the body. One of the pieces on this album is sufficient to make my point: "Virgin Killer".

A particularly blatant group called The Stranglers (A & M Records) provides a variety of confused, sick scxuality throughout all their albums. One of them listed such titles as "Nice and Sleazy", "Death and Night and Blood" and "Bring On The Nubiles" (Webster defines "nubile" as "that of marriageable condition or age: esp. well endowed sexually, used of young women".).

The Cars' real cutie is "Candy O", picturing the caricature of a Marilyn Monroe-ized blond, spread over the hood of a car, eyes closed, breasts of enormous size shoved towards the viewer, one arm behind the head, very filmy body suit. A couple of titles are "Lust for Kicks" and "Dangerous Type".

Then there is the very tiring gorilla carrying off a woman on Savoy Brown's "Skin N Bone" album by London Records. I needn't go further with that one.

Last but not least is the complete sadness I feel in seeing a woman so damaged by the female death mentality of the males on our globe as to put out a record entitled "Tear Me Apart". The front of Tanya Tucker's album cover shows her in a confused, vicious sort of pose, the picture torn horizontally twice, and on the back torn vertically into three images. The titles include "Tear Me Apart", "I've Page 10/What She Wants/January, 1980

Never Said No Before', "Crossfire of Desire" and "Blind Love".

This is a very short list of the music permeating our very selves, conditioning and socializing us to "want" fear, accept rape as "erotic" and to die

gracefully or die screaming-but DO get the message. Do understand that a woman is not a person. A woman does not count in the world of a male.

It is so horrifying to me to know that these messages are being pumped out and used against us in nearly every piece of popular music that comes over the radio, TV, and on records and tapes. They

My Divorce

By Shirley Aenne

The sunlight danced on the heavy oak panelling. A mop of white hair appeared above the elevated railing directly in front of me. I remember standing there, feeling almost more oppressed than at any other time in my life. To my left was my carefully chosen "witness", on her left was the ex-Jesuit who represented my ex-husband, and on my immediate right was my lawyer-strong and completely in control as always.

I heard the words, "Why should I grant you a divorce on these grounds?" I shyly recited my prepared statement.

"Well, I remember the day when you couldn't be granted a divorce for these reasons." My mind instantly flashed pictures of my two orphaned grandmothers, one worn out by ten pregnancies and poverty, the other enduring a loveless union, loss of her true love and an unnecessary early death. How different their lives would have been if liberated divorce laws had existed. But how could this mere man understand? And, of course, what possible response could I make to such a remark?

"Where is the separation agreement?" asked the white hair. A very long few moments followed, filled with assurances from both lawyers that it was somewhere in the pile of papers. Finally, I heard "Does your client understand that she is giving up child custody?" obviously directed to my right.

I wanted to scream! How can this be called “giving up?" I am still in pain when separated from my son. What choices does a woman have when she is backed against a wall, with one alternative? This has nothing to do with "giving up,” with justice, and much less with responsible parenting. I didn't have access to $10,000, the very minimum price quoted to me for a child custody battle. I had never budgeted for this

provide a continual barrage of warfare, attacking us unconsciously to deny us the possibility that we can struggle together, to feel good and really live.

To counteract this warfare we first must understand just how horrible the problem is. Then we must not only refuse to buy anything that even hints of violence, but destroy the mentality by fighting back against it. Ways to combat this oppression include organized struggle against the groups, the record companies, distributors, and the record stores in the form of letters, phone calls, press releases to the media, leafletting and picketing. I understand some areas have used very radical tactics with printed labels, razor blades, and glue.

In any event, I am hopeful that women will feel the terror and the rage and will continue to join together to organize the struggle to fight back. We deserve to live our lives, fully strong and free, and we can, if we do it together.

Oh yes, there is the alternative musical life blood-feminist music-women's music-wonderful women artists who are helping us to find sanity in our senses. Women such as Linda Tillery, Chris William-. son, Teresa Trull, Holly Near, Therese Edell and Sweet Honey In The Rock, to name but a few of my favorites. The list continues to grow as women become more and more conscious of our own woman identification,

Editors' Note: The violence against women portrayed in the music industry is one of several important. Issues being explored by the Cleveland Take Back the Night Committee. If you too are outraged by this form of oppression and would like to become · part of an organized struggle to combat it, call Take Back the Night at 621-9351.

(economically or psychologically). And the cost of additional personal therapy, even though there was a sliding scale for fees and the quality far outstripped the price. Then, there was the definite loss of my college teaching position, which I had worked toward for over twenty years, and most important, the investigation and exposure of the innocent-the women who had released me and nurtured me into my new lifestyle. Then there were the hours filled with tears when I realized there were no choices.

But I have emerged-a radical, lesbian, feminist (not just a feminist), with an iron determination to dedicate the rest of my life to women as a creative arts therapist. I want to live a long life and see this win-lose, all powerful male system shaken to its roots. As a skilled artist in music and dance, perhaps I can make a small contribution.

I heard my "witness's" voice-"She is always alone; her husband is never around."

"How long have you known this person?" There was a pregnant silence. We both knew it wasn't long but, true to woman's improvisational facility, she replied, "Oh, around six months."

Then the ex-Jesuit whispered something to the judge-I'll never know what, and certainly didn't care at that point.

"All right," said the white hair, "and better luck next time!"

I sank into the wooden bench out in the hall. I had to give in to gravity. I assured the ex-Jesuit that I would rebuild the relationship with my ex, and I signed my name on a few papers, and hugged my lawyer. I walked outside in the sunshine to visit my therapist. She greeted me warmly, as always, dressed in lavender.

"Is it over?" she asked. "Yes," I replied, "and now I can walk in the sunshine.