couple thoughts about math & feminism

as it seems almost certain i will be pursuing graduate study in mathematics of finance this fall my mind wandered back in time wondering how i got to this point. then i thought about the gender make up of my class. then i thought of a hapless larry summers. why is it that the class i will join will probably be overwhelmingly male? i tend to agree with the science that speculates that the endogenous variables responsible for the predominance of males among the autistic population are correlated with the substantial number of male outliers at both tail ends of the math performance spectrum.

why is it wrong to speculate there may exist a handful more men than women predisposed to be math virtuosos? it must be wrong in the same way that it is "wrong" to speculate that african males will be faster than caucasian males because of the physiology of their muscle tissue, or that ashkenazis will fill the ranks of great physicists because of sphingolipid mutations in the brain whose effects can range from heightened intelligence to peculiar neurological diseases. there are always differences between genders and ethnic cluster groups. we should not shy away from discussing differences so long as we first build the foundations of equality of opportunity for all and address the unjust initial conditions of the past.

why should it matter so much if men outnumbered the women in a math department? well a large portion of that discrepancy derives from the sexist paternalistic culture of the past (and present?) which deprived women of the opportunity to progress to that level of studies. it is only fair to rectify such past injustice. but one must also consider: why didn't such an all pervading male culture hold back those women who DID succeed? there must have been a factor of motivation strong enough to drive these women to transcend the ceiling placed above them. in this light i believe that if women today are to truly conquer the territory of mathematical sciences that was once kept out of their reach they cannot do it just by ability; there must also be that complete and utter compulsion to the field which sustains esoteric pursuit.

mathematics at an advanced level is such a pursuit and calls for a coupling of the requisite ability with a thorough and almost obsessive enjoyment of the subject matter. what i have seen in my experience is that women have the ability but seem to lack the level of enjoyment of problem solving in mathematical systems. the last time i brought up a topic very math-y in nature at a bar in new york it took off on many tangents amongst my male friends but was quickly yawned away amongst my female friends (most of whom have strong feminist ideals and would love to see larry summers hung). i found it unfortunate that such a cliched thing would happen amongst the girls because it is indicative of an underlying superficiality, that which often accompanies the evolution of a righteous cause into a commitment to lip serviced slogan-ism. "the number of women amongst math faculty should be equal to the number of men!" that math will only work out if there is an equal number of women who prefer calculus over america's next top model.

the male of man

untamed fight in his muscle
fear beneath the feral growls
violence of spirit and purpose
lust heaving to in every bated breath

armor to harden the heartbeat
swords to sharpen his reason
love hangs at the tip of his tongue
washed down with a frothy grog of rage

unnamed

wandering the street wondering what lies beneath a small child sees a victim of the system gone wild / lying just across in the valley of the lost and forgotten where the rotten food's awash with water costs / life is never easy while the wages are so measly leaving children in the city reading riddles in graffiti / written by the bullets fully mass manufactured if you do the mathematics it all factors in the after / math, nor teachers for english, hopes diminished by unanswered questions many lessons unfinished / ask yourself a question if such fate is made predestined how can those with blessings claim it's justice when we judge them

unnamed

in the late hours of solitude
ego can see through its own mist
and lose itself
in a dissipation of unheard echoes.
consisting merely of gathered things and choices and conflict;
and measured only by the ever-minding mirror of others,
it begs no surprise for its mighty fragility.
for all of it can shatter
with a sudden draft of cold,
in the late hours of solitude.

captions

sportsmetrics invents the "vibrating racket"

former thundercat quits dayjob, joins feline porn trio

holy shit, my faith got me pneumonia

furrowed brow adds sense of president-ness to young senator

scheming politician panders to the often marginalized dentist vote

The Beast (a Narrow-Street production)

critics rave "TheBeast" is the best "The Beast" story ever told since Narrow-Street started writing plays about "The Beast" and moral victories there-over... starring an all-star cast of stars! including "The Beast" most well known for his portrait of himself; a personal protagonist quite reminiscent of the author, and a narrator with delusions of rap grandeur! and now....

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i was born in the belly of a beast, that feasted, on the least of ancestors i shall never meet with -or speak with about their drought of fulfilled dreams as they wet the master's greens with sorry tear-filled streams- but their voices still summoned me, their faces were sullenly, hoping to see whether man's beast would stomach me, so stubbornly I did that which was required, i gave the beast hell til he came to bleed fire, and suddenly tired, he struggled to keep down my steadfast desire, a vengeance run deep down, i leapt out the beast's mouth from which i was mired but found my soul soaked cold in serpent's saliva. "young sire. son why do you try to escape?" he enquired. "i guess i don't fucking like snakes!" i replied with the violence of years of forced silence, "the tears of men's cries got me lining up stakes," to drive at its head, or its heart, if it had such a part, but instead, i was weak, without bread. "how you hunger come into me, for food, strength, virility, for peace, warmth, serenity, don't wallow in hate." "i don't fall for trickery, it ends all with misery, put simpl-y, i won't let you swallow my fate." "but it's man that created me!" "and i will destroy you." "(oh how i have baited thee!) bold in your boyhood." "yet you've underrated me, then, now, belatedly, now i'll so fatefully unfold your ploying." "annoying! i've chewed tougher meat than you-" "but i grew on the streets, rougher streaked than you." "yet still I am the Beast, and sir You are the least, won't you eat of my kingdom so shiny and new!" and though it was tempting, a moment of weakness, of almost relenting, surrounded by bleakness, i reached for my ears just to drown out his voice, his speeches would never give doubt to my choice. "the great deceiver will claim to provide, it makes one a heathen to breathe in his lies..." and though through the time i'd just lost my faith, twas brillig too high this, the cost of my fate, too aimlessly roaming, like old wildebeest, the only solution: to punish the beast. he laughed and he roared, "oh you bitter child! can you fight such a war so unfit and mild? just sell me your soul, it's the sinner's delight!" "i swear i shall kill you this wintery night!" but i saw not his spineless tail come around like a wave slaps a ship i was thrown to the ground, the pavement was stripped of all colour but red, the canvas was painted with blood of the dead. he said, "see the men who all fought on this street? i made meals of them from the heads to the feet. if only they'd built up my fortune and fame they'd not be the victims of torture and pain." "scorching in flames' an unfortunate fate," i retorted "a shame. you shall choke on my plate." a minute of silence, his eyes try to size up my will as i rise to his challenge to kill him... he said, " all you have are your hands and your head, see?" i replied, "of this man, all such weapons are deadly."
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to be continued, when next i have nothing to do

captions

bigfoot spotted, apparently having evolved better defense against germs

construction worker wishes he "knew how to quit" other construction worker

easter canceled as easter bunny caught and shot while on rampage through cabbage patch

"goddamn motorcycle" breaks down "with fucking perfect timing"