Days of Our Second Lives

Camels and Courage

If there's one thing Second Life has taught me, it's that appearances can be deceiving.  The sword wielding black cat with large breasts and leather armor turns out to be a male university professor teaching architecture in Amsterdam.  The eight-foot gargoyle with glowing yellow eyes reveals she is a single mother of two with a passion for Pacific Rim cuisine. And of course there are all those taking the opposite sex for a spin, the adults posing as children, and those who feel called to role play druids, dragons, and other mythical creatures.  So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to learn that Namav Abramovic's real life story rivals anything in Second Life ---  but I was. 

I first met Namav at The Heron Sanctuary (now Virtual Ability), an organization dedicated to helping  the disabled get into and function well within virtual worlds.  I was there to talk about volunteering in Heron's "Open Gates" program, a group started and coordinated by Namav.  Imagine my surprise to be greeted by a dark-haired bearded man posing as a camel trader. Sporting a turban and flowing robes, he brought one of the long-legged hump-backed creatures to our meeting, positioning it right beside his chair where it methodically chewed its cud and ogled me with baleful eyes. "Ooookay then," I thought.  "What in the world have I gotten myself into here?"

As it turned out, Namav and I enjoyed a stimulating conversation that ran the gamut from politics to rock music with a little bit of Jewish history thrown in for good measure.  In fact, so articulate and astute was Namav, that I might never have guessed he had a disability of his own if he hadn't shared the poem below:

Awakened

Awakened from an odd sleep
I see
hopping green lines
go flat,
alarms rattle
a blue-gray hospital room
and nameless nurses scurry,
blur hazy,
a flurry of white movement.

I zoom out,
float above it all,
look down on myself.

Chaos is unplugged,
life's tether snipped,
cold, eerie silence absolute,
not even breathing heard
dead quiet covers all as
movement flashes at bedside
examining the lifeless body
calmly wrong.
I want to go back.

Whip down
view flashes to ceiling.

Memory of death
fades
like any moment
but left me,
an impatience for life
that rarely wanes.

"Did you write this Namav," I asked as I finished reading it for the second time.

"Yep," he replied matter-of-factly.  "That really happened."

Later, I pulled the founder of the Heron Sanctuary, Gentle Heron, aside and asked about Namav's health.  "Namav has a form of muscular dystrophy," she explained.  "He has been on mechanical ventilation 24/7 since he was 13, and uses a gastric tube for feeding.  The only movement he has in his body is in his left thumb.  If a trackball mouse is positioned perfectly under his hand, he can use it and an onscreen keyboard to type and function in Second Life."

The only movement he has?  As she went on typing, giving me links to Namav's blog and posts in Wikipedia, my mind struggled to imagine what it must be like to be totally dependent on the care of others.  Only his thumb?!  I just couldn't seem to get my mind around that simple fact.  What if your nose itched or you needed a drink of water?  Worse yet, what might happen if the ventilator malfunctioned, the electricity went out, or someone forgot to suction a tube?

Later, on Namav's blog, I learned that he  (Nick DuPree in real life) was not only an honors English student in college, but an advocate for the disabled in his home state of Alabama.  Launching what became known as "Nick’s Crusade," he successfully fought to have home care continued for ventilator-dependent Alabamians once they turned 21. Moreover, Namav has not allowed his disability to define him.  In Second Life he regularly works as a paid DJ, coordinates the efforts of volunteers at the sanctuary, and (though still shy) goes dancing with his female friends at the Avilion ballroom.

But perhaps Namav himself said it best when he remarked that being in this position can, "...open up whole new layers of vision, a new way of life, and unique experiences.  This doesn't mean I'm some hero engaged in some grand, daily struggle just because I'm incredibly vulnerable."

I don't know Namav, you seem pretty heroic to me; not because you are vulnerable, but because you've refused to let your body's physical limitations crush or silence your soul.

Enslaved

I'd been in Second Life (SL) only a few short days when a new female acquaintance told me about her experiences in a place called "Gor."  She'd invited me to her store where enormous pictures of half-naked women wearing nipple rings and colorful wisps of transparent fabric over their genitals stared down at me with seductive smiles.  I was shocked.  Women being captured, collared, and owned by men?  Women required to kneel submissively at the feet of their "Masters," and not only perform sexually, but reveal  their innermost thoughts when commanded to do so?  I shook my head no when she invited me to visit Gor and went home to mull over what I'd seen and heard.

As a student of women's history and writing I am keenly aware of the many and varied ways women have been disenfranchised and enslaved.  The methods run the gamut from being denied reproductive control of their bodies and unequal pay to being stoned to death as witches.  But to me, the most insidious kind of repression is the many and mixed messages women receive about what it means to be attractive and lovable in our world.  I'm talking here about physical appearance yes, but more importantly about the range of qualities and behaviors that are "acceptable" for women. 

Since I come from a family that is steeped in the tradition of men being "kings of their castles," and grew up being told that I was too boisterous, too smart, too ambitious, too assertive for a girl, I have a good idea how these messages can translate into limiting and self-destructive behavior.   Therefore I am careful to avoid people and situations that require me to be less than I am -- where I am asked to mold myself and my abilities into what another wants or needs.  Clearly Gor was not for me.  And so, thinking "to each his/her own, " I mentally shrugged and filed the whole experience under, "Miscellaneous SL Facts," and went on about my second life.

As it turned out, however, Gor and the issue of slavery were not so easily dismissed.  On March 8th., I attended a performance of "In the Pink," the SL equivalent of "The Vagina Monologues."  Beautifully written and expertly acted, the performance was both entertaining and thought provoking.  We heard from women of all professions, ages, and stages of life, exploring everything from the trauma of sexual abuse and the loss of virginity to a hilarious ode to orgasm.  Among the stories was a piece entitled, "Gorean Feminist."  In it, the author tells how she has chosen to play the part of a "kajira," a slave whose role is to be "submissive," "exquisitely beautiful," and "pleasing to her owner."  She goes on to tell how a kajira dances in Gor - a combination of animations and description in which you, "... describe where your hands are along your body, how much eye contact you make, even what type of smile lies on your mouth."  As a result of having described her feelings, the author's "owner" stripped her of her top, pierced her nipples, and compelled her to kneel in a position that declared her willingness to serve and please. 

Stunned by the casual way she announced that her avatar's body had been violated, I was further dismayed to learn that the "Master" in this case was a woman.  What, I wondered, was the author thinking when she called herself a feminist?  The fundamental definition of feminism is social, political, and economic equality, and what she had just described was about as far from equality as I could imagine. 

I came away from "In the Pink" deeply disturbed, but still uncertain about what if anything I should do or say.  After all, as one fan of both Gorean role play and the books it is based on pointed out, the people involved in Gor are consenting adults.  They choose to be there; choose to  take on and act out  the roles of Master and slave.  "It's just a game," he repeatedly reassured me. Why then, I wondered, did the thought of Gorean role play leave me feeling as if a dark cloud had descended on my days?

The universe, which has a way of delivering lessons right to my doorstep, answered that question with shocking and brutal clarity a few days later.  While driving to the store, NPR's interview with Benjamin Skinner, author of A Crime So Monstrous: Face-to-Face with Modern-Day Slavery, began.  Riveted to my seat, I sat in the parking lot listening as Skinner talked about his experiences studying slavery as he traveled through 12 countries.  Not only did he find that slavery is alive and well - there are more slaves on the planet now than at any time in human history - but human life has been devalued to the point that he could purchase a nine-year-old girl for $50 and the price of a plane ticket to Haiti. "Though now illegal throughout the world, slavery is more or less the same as it was hundreds of years ago," Skinner says. "This is largely because of government inaction and corruption and because there is a general belief that slavery no longer exists."

Wow.  Back in Second Life (SL) I read and reread blogs by Gor enthusiasts and the excellent  series run by the  Second Life Tribune entitled, "Confessions of a Gorean Slave."  I thought again about the argument that Gorean role play is just a game, and came to the same conclusion as Humdog, author of the Tribune series:

"There was a further cost of entry into Gor, or in fact any kind of D/s relationship," she writes. "This cost...is any and all constructions of personal identity, habit, and/or personality that are deemed undesirable by the Master. The psychological and emotional requirements exacted by the collar are such that they are also not easily left in-world, if, in fact they can be left in world at all. One astute Master has written: “You should realize that when you put a collar on somebody, even online, you are, in fact, fucking around with a person’s real life.” I am not going to dispute the words of an experienced Master. I am just going to say: so much for the myth of in-world only."

And so, while a part of me would like to look away and ignore the fact that Gor exists, I know I won't rest easy until I add my thoughts to the discussion. What I have to say is simple - a reminder really.  Each and every one of us has the ability to make a difference, in part by choosing where to focus and spend our time.  What we choose to participate in - give money, time, and attention to - is what we will find manifested in the physical world.  Adopting roles, even in play, that involve enslavement, brutality, power plays, and subjugation cannot help but have a negative impact on our reality. 

Yes, I know that there are things to be learned by becoming a Master or a slave.  I understand, as one blogger put it, that "Power play–whether organic or deliberate like Gor–is a primary component of our interpersonal relationships," and that, "one of the things that makes Second Life so appealing: it is a playground for power play."   My question, given the horror that we all know real slavery to be, is what are we learning and at what cost? 

Gender Bender Redux

The idea of being a man has never appealed to me much.  First of all, there's the equipment to contend with (instruction manuals being famously lacking), not to mention the complex rules of social interaction that govern every encounter between males.  So when my good friend and sister in Second Life mischief, Saxet Uralia, heard that I was thinking of buying a male skin for my avi Cicerone, she was skeptical and amused.  "You, a man?!" she laughed.   "I don't think so."

"Why not? "I protested.  "I can remember to leave the toilet seat up!"

"But have you mastered the manly handshake and back slap?"

"I can do a reasonable facsimile," I replied, making a mental note to practice. "And I've been working on my hack and spit.  Wanna see?"

"Ummmm....no, I think I'll pass," she said.  "How much do you know about football?"

"Well, I know how it's played...."

"Not good enough," she said emphatically. "You have to know the players and teams, be able to quote stats, and be willing to give up every single Monday night during the season."

There was a long pause as we both considered the enormity of my ignorance.  "And hun," she added with real pity in her voice, "I hate to break it to you, but that goes for basketball, baseball, and soccer too."

By the time we parted ways, she had almost convinced me to abandon my plan.  But in the end, curiosity got the better of me. 

My first attempt at male impersonation took the form of an older Japanese gentleman with a balding head and penchant for philosophical musings in awkward English.  After two stilted conversations with folks who kindly shared LMs to Japanese sims, I went shopping again - this time for a more "typical" male avi.

One of the first things I noticed was how limited the selection was compared to what is available for women.  In addition, most male shapes and skins were nowhere near as detailed or well done as the women's versions.  In fact, the first demos I tried left me feeling like the Incredible Hulk, with enormous shoulders and muscles so well-defined I was sure they would hurt anyone who tried to hug me.  Eventually, however, I settled on the dark-haired fellow you see pictured above.  With his squared off  jaw and day-old stubble, he appealed to Jenaia's taste in men (I know I know), and looked like he might have a brain in his head to boot.

Pleased with my selection, I dragged the shape, skin, and clothing folders onto Cicerone,  and without waiting to check to be sure everything was in place, sent an eager IM to my friend and neighbor Lori.  "I've got something exciting to show you!" I said.  "Can I come over?"

One thing about Lori, she has never turned down an opportunity to see something exciting, so within seconds I had tped into her skybox.  Having never seen Cicerone as anything but a dog, she was understandably surprised.  "You're a man!" she exclaimed, taking several steps back.

"Yes, I finally found a shape and skin I liked," I said.  "What do you think?"

There was a long, uncharacteristic pause.  "Ummm... is that a penis?"  she finally asked, and broke into giggles.

"A what?!" I exclaimed.  "Where?"

"Well, right where you would expect it to be," she laughed.  "Or didn't you check when you put on the skin?"

Well....to be honest I hadn't, but a quick perusal of my avi from the front revealed that he was indeed sporting anatomically correct male genitalia.

"Oh Lord," I groaned as I typed my profuse apologies and searched frantically through my inventory for the correct piece of anatomy to detach.  "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."

"At least it was just me," Lori said.  "But if I were you I'd think twice about going out in public."

Since that day, I've not only thought twice but several dozen times about taking the human Cicerone public.  As tempting as the thought of engaging in a little male bonding over football and beer seems, the thought of committing another social blunder like the one I inflicted on Lori has stopped me.  Besides, it has taken me most of my life to get the hang of being female. I'm not sure I've got the time or the "cojones" to tackle being male.

Gender Bending

Gender is a hot topic in Second Life (SL), mostly because you're not stuck with one or the other.  Ever wonder what it would be like to be just "one of the guys?"  Got a hankering to slip into high heels and a mini-skirt and hit the dance floor?  Simply go to the Client menu and look under "Character."  Select the gender you want and Voila! instant sex change.  Of course now you're stuck with the tedious process of finding the right shape and skin.  Plus - and here's the real kicker - your name will not have changed with your sex.  So, while I might manage to look like Brad Pitt, my name tag would still read "Jenaia Morane."  So much for flying under the gender radar.

A far better and interesting tactic is to create a second avi for yourself.  It's free and gives you a new name along with your new gender.  I tried this for the first time after having an embarrassing encounter with a dog avatar.  Enticed by a friend (who likes to hang out in SL as a Bassett hound) into buying a dog avi, I got stuck halfway between dog and human form when trying to return to Jenaia.  The result looked like a badly rendered version of ET and left me vowing to get a second avi.

Cicerone Destiny - or Cice for short - spent the first two months of his life as a yappy, button-nosed Scottish terrier with an attitude. However, black is hard to see, and for some reason French women found him irresistible.  After repeatedly being offered hugs and kisses every time I went out in public, I went shopping for another, less "precious" canine.  The result was a large, black and tan collie whose lolling tongue and wagging tail landed me a job as a therapy dog helping disabled people adjust to SL.  As a result, it was several months before I gave much thought to the fact that Cice was male.

Even then I might never have considered giving Cice a human form if it wasn't for Phoebe*.  To be clear, Phoebe is a woman in her first life, but she has many and varied incarnations in SL.  The day we met, she claimed to have six different avis, all created in an effort to explore the various sides of herself without making her partner in SL jealous.   The one she enjoyed the most - the one she assured me I would fall head over heels in lust for immediately - was a male avatar.

"Oh really?" I said, intrigued both by her conviction and the fact that she apparently enjoyed having women fall in love with the male version of herself. "What makes you so sure?"

"Oh he's a hottie," she assured me.  "It took me forever to find the right shape and skin.  But what all the women love is that he's a philosopher and a mystic."

Figuratively raising my eyebrows, I asked if I could meet him.

"Tell you what," she suggested.  "Let's go dancing.  I'll switch avis and meet you at the Avilion ballroom in 20 minutes."

Anyone who's been to Avilion knows that formal dress is required, so it took me almost that long to dig out and put on all the necessary finery.  If this avi was as hot as Phoebe claimed, I wanted to make a good impression.

Twenty minutes later, decked out in a full-length, champagne colored dress and matching gloves,  I was standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the ballroom.  As I waited, a variety of male avatars came and went.  One even stopped to ask if I was the queen, which I found endearing, but none struck me as particularly handsome or mystical.    After a good 30 minutes, I decided Mr. Mystic (as I'd mentally dubbed Phoebe's avi) wasn't going to show.  I was about to tp home when Phoebe herself appeared.  Dressed in white warrior gear (guaranteed to get her booted from the sim if a Guardian noticed), she was her usual ravishing, blond-haired self.

"I'm so sorry to be late," she said.  "I had to break up with a woman who was in love with me."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, not Phoebe,"  she hastened to explain.  "She was in love with my male avi; the one you were going to meet.  I had to tell her because I don't like to lead women on.  It wouldn't be fair."

"OIC," I typed, thinking that I didn't see at all.  If she didn't want to lead them on, then why dress as a man and engage in behavior that would encourage women to fall in love in the first place?  "So where is your male avi now?" I asked.  "I thought we were going dancing."

"Oh, I'm so sorry but I'm out of time.  That's what I came over to tell you.  Maybe another time?"

"Ummmm....sure," I said, feeling totally bewildered.

"Oh and by the way," Phoebe added, an instant before she teleported way in a puff of white particles, "You look ravishing in that dress."

Needles to say, that encounter left me feeling more than a little perplexed and annoyed.  Mostly, however, I was curious about what Phoebe found so appealing about  being male and why she was so sure I would find her impersonation attractive.  It was only a matter of time before I got to thinking about Cice. Who would  Cice be, I wondered, if I gave him human form?  Would women find him attractive, and if they did,  what would I do about it?   Stay tuned for Part II in which I do some gender bending of my own and discover some fundamental truths about the sexes.

*Phoebe's real name has been omitted to maintain her anonymity.