baserinstincts

How The Venus Flytrap Really Got Its Name

I’m not even sure how I got to thinking about this topic, but it was probably due to a combination of watching The Bachelor: Women Tell All special last night and a discussion of  deconstructionist literary criticism in class today.

I know they seem unrelated, but stay with me here.

The Bachelor tell-all special was as ridiculous as I expected it to be (ridiculous though it may be, I like the show, don’t judge me) there was one particular point of interest, and it was that of the whole Roslyn sex scandal.

I’ll give a very brief summary. The show puts 25 women in a big house and they compete for the affections and engagement ring of  one one supposedly successful and ruggedly handsome bachelor. This season there were many controversies but the one that stood out the most was that one of the contestants, for lack of a better term, Roslyn, was kicked off the show because of an alleged inappropriate relationship with one the of shows former producers. I say former because he was fired. On the special, Roslyn was brought out to defend herself against these allegations, and it seemed she couldn’t complete a sentence without any one of the other women ripping her a new one, saying they saw this and they saw that and calling her a liar and judging her.

It was entertaining to say the least but I found myself wondering what the big deal was. So what if she slept with a producer of the show? In my mind, the other housemates were upset because Roslyn went out and got hers while the rest of them continued to compete for one man in the hopes of getting some.

Actually, Roslyn is starting to sound kind of smart.

But this tweet (actually, the clever hash tag) summed up what I was thinking way better than I could at the time.

Bingo! Cultural fear of female sexuality.

Making sense now?

We’re getting to the flytrap.

The Venus flytrap is a carnivorous plant that traps and digests small insects. It’s a houseplant really, but looks more ominous because of the hairs that line it’s leaves and inner portions. They resemble sharp teeth. In short, the Venus flytrap is not to be fucked with. See the video below for evidence.

But why Venus flytrap? Why not call it the shark plant or something like that? Kinda looks like Jaws, if you ask me.

Let’s explain this by first understanding Venus herself. Yes, Venus is the second planet from the sun but the name also refers to the Roman goddess of love and beauty. Theory number one on how the Venus flytrap got it’s name is that the plant itself resembles the clam shell pictured in The Birth of Venus painted by Boticelli. Or because the flowers are really beautiful, or something like that.

The Birth of Venus

Um,  but I don’t really buy that one.

Let’s look closer.

Mr. Sigmund biology-is-destiny Freud, the father of modern psychology has some cooky interesting theories about sex organs. The theory of penis envy is one we all know well. I’d need a whole other post to express what I think about penis envy so I won’t discuss it here. But I will talk about castration anxiety. Castration anxiety, according to fraud Freud is the unconscious fear in men that they will one day lose their penis. When the young male first becomes aware of the difference in male and female genitalia, he assumes that the female’s penis has somehow been removed. He then worries that his penis will similarly be “cut off”, likely but his father; his arch nemesis according to Oedipal theories.

Now, as with penis envy, we’re speaking figuratively here. Men don’t necessarily fear physically losing their penis as they do fear losing what their penis represents (as evidenced in this year’s Superbowl ads). Just as women don’t necessarily want to have a physical penis, just the power that the penis represents.

And just how, you ask, does a man lose his penis?

Cherchez la femme.

The term vagina dentata literally translates to “toothed vagina” in Latin. It basically serves to warn men to be careful about where they stick their willies. Now, I’m sure most men don’t really think that there are razor sharp teeth in women’s vaginas that will lop their dicks off if they fuck them (or with them), although one could only imagine how different the world would be if that were true. However, many do fear losing something by becoming attached to a vagina.

Now let’s bring it home.

Look closely at our little Venus flytrap here. What does it look like? It’s not reaching to say that the plant resembles a vagina. And if we extend our understanding of Venus to mean a symbol for anything feminine, well then we can see what the man or men (for undoubtedly they were) who came up with that clever little name were really trying to say; that the vagina is a trap of some sort and something to be feared and avoided, and if not, controlled.

Hmmm. Sounds curiously like the state of women’s sexual and reproductive rights in the year 2010.

See, nothing’s really changed has it?

Mommy Issues

“Well one thing’s for sure,” he said chuckling through his tears. “You certainly inherited the battle axe gene”.

I laughed too and with that we made up again.

It was probably our biggest fight ever.

I threatened to leave him.

Again.

I changed my mind in the end.

Again.

I really laid into him that night. I don’t ever remember screaming so loud and so long at a person ever before in my life.

It was official.

I’d turned into my mother.

Turning into my mother was something I swore I wouldn’t do since as long as I can remember. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mommy. I love her like cooked food. But, after careful observation of her less desireable traits and her track record when it comes to relationships I felt it would behoove me to try not to be like her.

But in spite of that very concious effort, I ended up with more of her traits than I care to admit.

For instance, I pride myself on being a cool and collected person. One whose feathers are not so easily ruffled. One who gets her point across without yelling (I really hate to be yelled at) and arguing (and I hate to argue). One who does not resort to physicality to express her frustration. One who communicates her anger in a constructive way. And for the most part I am all of these things.

But catch me on the wrong day (the wrong day is usually a day where I am experiencing the dangerous combination of fatigue and prolonged stress mixed with hormonal fluctuations) and mommy

dearest rears her ugly heard.

My sister and I have joked that both our mother and grandmother are “battle axes”. I made that observation to my (now ex) boyfriend a couple of times, and according to him the apple doesn’t fall far.

I yell. Especially when I’m frustated and feel like I’m not being listened to (which really makes no sense because it’s a surefire way to not get yourself heard). I sometimes use sarcasm to say what I want to say instead of just saying it. I employ the silent treatment. I sit on my feeligs way too long until they build up into something bigger and more volatile than they need to be. And although I pretty much never start arguments, I don’t always wave the white flag either.

Oh, and ocsasionally I hit (hey, find me a Caribbean woman who doesn’t). More out of frustration than out of an actual desire to inflict pain.

These are all the things I observed about my mother that I swore would not end up as part of my personality. But I guess you can’t really help it much.

The battle axe gene certainly seems to be a dominant one.

On Daddies

I blogged about my mom the day after mother’s day so it’s only fair I do the same for dear ol’ dad.

Daddy – My First Love

He was my first love.

I was crazy about my daddy when I was younger; in love with him beyond belief. He was my hero, larger than life to me.

He was my favorite.

I liked him much more than I liked my mother.

He taught me how to fight, made me eat healthy, pushed me to get straight A’s.

We were the best of friends for eight long, happy years.

In essence, a father really is his daughter’s first lover. We learn much of what we come to understand about love from watching him. He sets an example for our future lovers and inevitably, we repeat and emulate the relationships we have with our fathers, good or bad, consciously or unconsciously, for years.

When my dad dumped my mom, in essence he dumped me too.

As it much as it hurts and as long as it take to get over a lost love, so it is when a girl is dumped by her father. This plays out of course in the myriad of fucked up relations with men that have taken place over my life (my ex fiancee was just like him. Freud would certainly have a field day with that).

The years I spent chasing and trying to get men that were unavailable or just didn’t want me was of course my way of trying to recapture my father.

If there are any father’s reading this, DO NOT let your daughter ever become used to not having you around. When you decide you want her back, it just may be too late

Hey Mom. Happy Father’s Day.

When my mom and dad split, my dad wrote and called in the beginning but over the years it kinda dropped off.

He wasn’t as bad as other dad’s I hear about in countless stories. He didn’t beat me or abuse me.

He ignored me.

He was simply not present. Physically or emotionally. And he was present financially only because he was forced by the courts. I learned not to count on his presence. I learned not to count on him for anything. To do so would only bring bitter disappointment.

What makes a father?

If you think of it solely in terms of biology, a portion of sperm, well then we all have one.

But I refuse to believe that’s all it takes.

It’s about being there for your children. My father wasn’t. I doubt he even really knows me as a person or anything about the woman I’ve become. Maybe he doesn’t want to know because I became this woman largely without him.

He couldn’t tell you my favorite color, what I like to eat, what I do for a living. I haven’t even laid eyes on him in several years. The last time I spoke to him, he was asking me for money.

It sucks. How do you go from being best friends to painfully obligatory phonecalls on father’s day, birthdays, and major holidays?  We should have a better relationship. I want us to. But there’s miles and miles and years and years of bullshit between us that we can’t seem to cut through.

It’s tiring.

And so I keep my distance.

And I’m certainly not going to try harder than he is.

Maybe one day we’ll make things right.

In the meantime, mommy and grandma are the ones who get the cards on Father’s Day.Practical Magic move

Daddy Issues

So I’m reading Best Sex Writing 2008 edited by the fab Rachel Kramer Bussel (awesome book by the way, check out the blog here).

I was reading the piece entitled “Double Your Panic” in which the narrator (Kevin Keck) is anxious about the impending arrival of his twin girls given the obsession he harbored for twins in his youth.

The piece had me laughing out loud at times but the real priceless bit was at the end when his wife tries to reassure him saying “It’s usually the girls with daddy issues who turn out a little slutty.”

Eureka!

That explains a whole hell of a lot!

Now I’m not saying I’m a slut, you understand.

I’m just saying that there are any number of mistakes events in my sexual history that probably wouldn’t exist had my father stuck around longer (it would certainly help to explain why for years I insisted on chasing men who obviously didn’t want me).

I feel like calling him up and yelling “THANKS A LOT DAD!” into the receiver.