If you know what's best for you, don't feel safe.

Merging my feminist banter with my love for prose...

You want to run out real quick, grab a cup of coffee or see that new window display a few blocks over. It's getting dark and you're a woman, so you better not go alone. Ask your girlfriends to keep you company. Power in numbers, aye? That's not good enough. Ask a man. A few men. Preferably someone big, muscular, or capitalize on good old American racism and bring along a sturdy black man. Before you head out though, better put on a longer skirt. Make that a pair of pants. Jeans. Take off your heels. They make your ass look too perfect and you can't run as fast as you may need to in them. Converse. Converse for the win. So jeans and converse, right? Perfect. You wouldn't want to bring attention to yourself. Blend in. Be like everyone else. Everyone wears jeans and converse. Right right?

Where are you going? Avoid that street. Don't make eye contact with anyone. It sends the wrong message. You're not interested. Walk faster. This neighborhood seems sketchy. Slow down. You're bringing attention to yourself. You see a bar on the way home. One drink won't hurt. Don't drink too much. Have you forgotten you're a woman? What in the hell are you doing? You can't leave with him. Don't you dare give out your number. Have those guys walk you and your girlfriends home. Perhaps you should hold hands, so they appear more protective. Remember, lock your door as soon as you arrive home.

Most importantly, don't ever ever ever feel safe. Be afraid. Go ahead, let them use fear to control you.

Maia: a summer tale of thwarted potential.

These unusually warm temperatures have me reminiscing about last summer. Each summer, I have the joy of working as a youth t-ball and baseball coach for my city’s recreation department. Despite the league being co-ed, by the time children reach the ages of three through seven, children have already been so heavily sex segregated that male players greatly outnumber female players. 

That’s why when I saw Maia, obviously a female player, stroll up during her team's first practice I was so overjoyed. She would be the lone female player on her individual t-ball team, and her mother expressed slight concern as I distributed what would be Maia’s uniform and game schedule. I quickly reassured her that I think it would be an awesome opportunity for her child and that Maia would have no problem making new friends and enjoying the game regardless of sex.

Throughout practice, Maia seemed to be enjoying herself. She filled the hour with enthusiastic questions, giggles, smiles, and overall just adorable five-year-old innocence. With exclamations such as “Only six days until our first game!” and “Batting is my favorite!” 'twas quite obvious how excited she was to be playing t-ball this summer.

Then came the end of practice. Maia ran over to her mother to tell her all the fun she had today in practice. No lie, I could hear their conversation. Regardless of the fact that her child was completely okay with being the team’s sole female representative, Maia’s mother did not hesitate to hand me back Maia’s uniform (which already had her child’s name on it, thus it could not be reused) and inform me that she was taking her child out of the league.

So let me get this straight, Maia can’t play t-ball  because she won’t be surrounded by children of her own sex during practices? If Maia is the only female student in her AP Calculus class or in medical school or any other activity she so wishes to participate in will her mother encourage, not even encourage, force her to quit? Perhaps I'd possess a different opinion if Maia herself had expressed discomfort, but that was far from reality. This mother's action of pulling her daughter out of a program solely due to its lack of female participants suggests to her child that certain activities are better fit for boys and it's best if girls stick to their own realm. Ehh, way to instill good values in your daughter?

I really wish Maia would have stuck around, not only would her mother and daughter have benefited, but Maia had the potential to prove girls can be just as athletic as boys to all her male teammates.

My only wish is that this is to you as it is to me.

At a time in which my favorite person was no more than a voodoo doll, I find love distilled into a series of bitter tasting kisses and numb embraces. A loving no more than nodding, she tires of hospital room date nights. I thought by becoming one of them they could no longer scare me, but when I shifted into their shape is precisely when I began to develop autophobia. How does one manage to remain themselves, as they try to end themselves?

The car radio churns out yet another seemingly inappropriately cheery pop song, but I can’t help to sing along. In an effort to drown my crooning, I turn the volume to a heavy vibration. An inked and gemmed finger belonging to the most crooked of doctors, curls around the dial. “Why do you always do that? I can’t hear you, goof” and restores the volume to a mere hum.

Rolling out a giant canvas we tried to capture the sun melting into the sea. When every inch of that cotton blend was coated, with gentle delicate brushstrokes that felt like eternity, you painted me from head to toe. So, on that beach we feel into one, as did the sun and sea. When you've built your house of a heart on a foundation of toxins the first big wind'll blow you away. So that's exactly what I did. I blew away with the promise of radiance.

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À un moment où ma personne préférée n'était pas plus qu'une poupée vaudou, je trouve l'amour distillés en une série de baisers acerbe et étreintes gourds. Un amour pas plus de hochant, elle se lasse date nuits à l'hôpital. Je pensais en devenant l'un d'entre eux, ils ne pouvaient plus me faire peur, mais quand j'ai changé dans leur forme est précisément au moment où j'ai commencé à développer autophobia. Comment parvient-on à rester eux-mêmes, quand ils essaient de se terminer?

L'autoradio barattes à une autre chanson pop qui semble inappropriée heureux, mais je ne peux m'empêcher de chanter avec eux. Dans un effort pour étouffer mon chantant, je me tourne le volume à une vibration intense. Un doigt taché d'encre appartenant au la plus tordue des médecins, s'enroule autour du cadran. «Pourquoi tu fais toujours ça? Je ne peux pas vous entendre »et rétablit le volume à un hum simple.

Roulant une toile géante, nous avons essayé de capturer la fonte soleil dans la mer. Quand chaque espace du coton a était enduite, avec de touches délicates qui se sont senties comme l'éternité, tu m'as peint de la tête aux pieds. Ainsi, sur cette plage que nous ressentons en un seul, comme le soleil et la mer. Quand tu as construit votre maison d'un coeur sur une fondation de toxines du vent premier grand va tu emporter. C'est exactement ce que j'ai fait. Je souffla avec la promesse d'eclat. 

Emotions do not discriminate on the basis of sex.

Just because I have a strong opinionated reaction to something doesn't mean I am menstruating or pregnant. Female emotional response is not dependent on hormonal imbalances. So closely associated with all that is exclusively feminine, any emotional display or signs of irritability in men, has been credited as "man-periods." Have we forgotten that emotions are part of the healthy human experience? So ashamed of this truth men aren't allowed to acknowledge their presence and the only platform in which women can express them are in times of hormonal imbalances. Huh?

Crediting all female emotional behavior as results of hormonal changes is like crediting all forms of violence as the result of testosterone. Pure ridiculousness. Emotions are not sex specific. That is, all emotions are experienced by both females and males. The difference however, the realms in which women and men are allowed to express them. (let's avoid complete post drift and save that discussion for another entry).

P.S. I'm thinking of incorporating a little more poetry/prose into this blog. Rad idea? Let me know what you all think.

P.P.S. This is the coolest picture on the internet. My blog has been struggling to breathe without it, thus I am going to help it out and end it's misery.