I will write about abortion until all people stop cringing at the word. #teamgia

Once upon a time there was a girl who had sex when she was just a child. It ended in pregnancy and she felt obligated to share her decision to terminate the pregnancy with the boy who impregnated her. When this bastard decided to run an online smear campaign bringing this brave lil' lady's character into question her life turned upside down. No longer was she Gia the track star who wore fishtail braids before they were a thing and was the only eighth grade girl in advanced physics. Gia's talents, alternative hairstyles, and fiery personality no longer meant a thing. She was reduced down to the "whore" who got an abortion.

Far too much of Gia's story has been dictated by this single jerkoid. So, eleven years later, here's my message to the cowardly little boy who impregnated one hell of a woman.

Stop attacking the morality of a fourteen year old girl who selflessly terminated a pregnancy in order to prevent a child being brought into the world who neither parent had the ability to care for. Gia's decision preserved your youth and stopped a child from being raised in circumstances unfit for any child. So, why then, is it Gia's morality that's in question? What kind of fourteen year old boy has sex with a fourteen year old girl without protection and then starts an online smear campaign demonizing her for making a decision with her own body that best fit the needs of her, her family, and you? How did you plan on raising a child at the age of fourteen? How would you afford to feed it or watch over it? You would not have had the resources. You would dump it on her or your own parents and continue to live like the carefree little shit you are while occasionally playing with your son or daughter whenever it was most convenient. You both had unprotected sex at age fourteen, but it was Gia who was faced with an unforgettable decision. You owe her so much more than what you gave her. Your words suggest that you believe it was Gia's responsibility to give birth and that she somehow owed this fetus something. A pregnant woman does not owe a developing fetus anymore than the fetus owes his or her parent's an apology for being alive. Suck on that.

Gia took a job just eight miles away from her old junior high and next month she'll move back out to California to a town she has avoided for the past nine years (the town she departed before high school to escape misogynist pro-life bullying.) So, a big fuck you to pro-lifers. Looks like you lose. Again. Because Gia is not the girl who got an abortion at age fourteen. She's the super slick physics nerd with a smarty-pants engineering degree who only wears hoop earrings, taught me that frozen grapes will change your life as much as lip liner does, has a secret knowledge of mechanics who hopes to someday adopt foster children. #teamgia

Go ahead. Judge me for my make-up.

Sans make-up my face exists as a amalgamation of tissue, protein, cartilage, and cells. The arrangement of all that previously mentioned reveals nothing about who I am as a person. I simply crawled out the womb and aged. Conversely, my cosmetic choices did not simply crawl out the womb and age alongside my face. Unlike nature, my gene pool, and my DNA, I exercise control over the products I smear on my face. I chose it. I put it there. Me and my personality carefully select this routine. Thus, make-up (tattoos and piercings included) is the absolute closest humans will get to facial self-expression.

So, when a dude tells you he prefers you without make-up, there's an even more serious issue than the fact that he's taking relationship advice from Drake. He's telling you that he prefers you when you do not make choices that advance your personal identity. Such statements suggest that your body is preferred over your brain. Your brain is the reason you rimmed your eyes with coal black liner. Your brain is the reason you lips are always masked in NYX, Tarte, or Lime Crime (all vegan approved!). Your brain is the reason you think glitter, not concealer, is the best way to camouflage under-eye circles.

Your naked face and body are inane vessels through which you operate and reveal nothing about your ideals, personality, interests, skill set, etc. Does our economic identity and need to physically protect ourselves sometimes deter us from expressing our truest selves? (I totally cannot afford every shade of MAC lipstick or the newest Jeffrey Campbell’s and there are definitely cities I would not feel safe experimenting with my gender identity/expression.)Yes. Of fucking course. But even taking that into account, every time you make a decision to clothe your body or apply cosmetics you are making a decision to reflect yourself through the canvas of your physical being.

Appropriateness and Moral Condemnation: Why Sex Matters but Shouldn't.

From Dictionary.com:

in·ap·pro·pri·ate [in-uh-proh-pree-it]
adjective
not appropriate; not proper or suitable: an inappropriate dress for the occasion.
Synonyms
improper, unsuitable, inapt, unfitting.

Here's the difference between a scantily-clad woman and a scantily-clad man. The man will read as humorous and good-natured, people will laugh. However, people will interpret the woman's lack of "proper" attire with sexual aggression. Why? Simply speaking, women is not seen as equally human, thus she is instead interpreted as a desirable object for men to twist, churn, and fuck. If she were seen as human, rather than as a sexualized object, others would acknowledge the plethora of interpretations behind her partial or full nudity beyond those that are strictly sexual in nature. 

Whenever someone expresses their opinion that a woman is dressed "inappropriately" due to too much of her body being exposed, they're outwardly suggesting that a woman's body is inherently inappropriate. Now, why would a woman's body be inappropriate? Society largely limits female bodies sole purpose to that of a sexual nature. Juxtapose contemporary western society's mutual demonization of sex and objectification of female bodies, and the final result is confusing and contradictory. The idea that the female body is provocative by nature implies that a male's exposure to too much of the female form will "provoke" him to act out in a sexual way. This manifestation of reductionist sexist assessment of the reasons for which women exist continually promotes the notion that a woman's body exists solely for the sexual satisfaction of heterosexual men.

Women do not exist for the sexual satisfaction of men. They simply exist, and in their existence, their body will serve a multitude of functions. It is not our responsibility, as women, to shroud our bodies from men. Just as it is a woman's responsibility to understand the appropriate time and place to view a man as a sexual entity, so too is it a man's responsibility to treat women with the same regard. 

I do not shout sexual suggestions at men jogging shirtless down the street. I do not stare at men's crotches when they choose to wear body-hugging pants. I do not ogle at muscle-tee wearing men in the hopes of getting a glimpse of naked torso. We understand such actions as unwanted and inappropriate. So, why do all too many men feel entitled to stare at a girl's ass when she bends down to adjust her boot strap, or catcall women on their way to work, or wink at a woman in a sports bra at the gym? If I know when it is appropriate to sexualize a man's body and when it is not, I expect the same consideration from men.

The normalization of sexism complicates one's ability to effectively respond to it in the heat of the moment. How do you demonstrate the injustice behind one's comments when institutionalized tolerance has been so deeply ingrained in their minds that the speaker is both the victim and perpetrator? Here are some statements you could say when you are presented with a situation in which someone is morally condemning a woman due to her outfit choice:

"Why are you sexualizing her body? You're making me uncomfortable."
"Do you understand how your comments promote rape culture? You are suggesting that it is a woman's responsibility to not be sexualized without her consent, rather than the responsibility of men to not sexualize women against their will. This mentality leads society to think women who dress a particular way are 'asking for it' and invalidates their experiences of sexual misconduct.
To school administrators/fellow students:
"Do you think it's appropriate to humiliate female students and make them ashamed of their bodies?"

Or, just straight up:
"Stop creeping on that woman. What's inappropriate about the flesh, bone, and muscle that together make up her legs?"

The most effective responses aim to educate, rather than perpetuate feelings of shame and humiliation, the individual/group of individuals who are making such comments about the implications of their words. Yes, there are men who are elitist assholes who act as if they are God's gift to women, but unless you have reason to believe otherwise, as the patriarchy encourages men to behave in such a light and not recognize the consequences of their behavior, you can often assume the ignorance of the perpetrators. 

Her agency is not synonymous with moral condemnation.

Following Creepshots and/or watching objectifying pornography are quintessential to-be-expected aspects of the male coming-of-age experience. However, when a female celebrity's nudes are leaked and revealed to the public, she is viewed as a victim to the claws of Hollywood and stamped with an unerasable "slut" label. A woman who decides to film herself having sex? Fucking freak. Countless numbers of men perpetuate street harassment, catcall women on the daily, yet when a woman approaches him, she's audacious and arrogant. Hoards of men collectively drool over women out of their league, yet become disgusted when women they deem unattractive voice interest in them.

Why is a woman demonstrating agency over her own body worthy of moral condemnation? Female bodies are treated like public property, thus men feel the right to grow offended when women take ownership of what it rightfully theirs, using their bodies in ways they themselves find pleasurable. This is precisely why a painting depicting an image of a naked woman is beautiful, but when a mirror is placed within the figure's grasp, such beauty becomes understood as vanity.

The female body does not exist for the satisfaction of the male gaze, yet as a physical embodiment of the mind that resides within.

Dirty Laundry: Keeping Women within “Good Taste” instead of Fashion-Forward.

Most style rules are simply sets of guidelines addressing the connotations of femaleness. The shorter the hemline, the lower the heel; the bolder the lipstick, the more natural the eyes; the tighter the pants, the baggier the top; the more eccentric the dress, the more conventional the accessories; counter statement necklaces with minimalist earrings; daring nail polishes beg for short nails. All of these “rules “ presented in fashion magazines and style articles without explanation, because womanhood expects you to inherently understand why one should not pair a miniskirt with stilettos or a heavy smoky eye with plum lipstick. A few of these rules make visual sense; a statement necklace and a gorgeous pair of dangling earrings will compete with each for attention. However, other guidelines make visual sense only because our society has adopted a collective understanding that codes particular combinations and rates their level of acceptableness. A woman with wild colored streaks, exposed tattoos, and a tattered leather jacket reads as "troubled." Drop crotch jeans and a baggy hoodie equals "dyke."A micro-mini with five-inch heels synonymous with slut. Regardless of if the wearer’s intention is to lengthen her legs, her best friend who dons an equally short skirt with a pair of ballet flats will not collect a percentage, if any at all, of her pal's sneers. The first woman failed to properly maintain the stigma of womanhood and ignored the ever-present determinant of so-called “good taste”: balance. For of all the stigma attached to womanhood, nothing is so heavily regulated, conflicted, and perpetually on the edge of inequity as female sexuality.

For your enjoyment I've attached this magnificent picture of one of my personal favorite sources of stylistic inspiration. Photograph courtesy of JustJared.

 

I don't think Taylor Momsen has ever followed a fashion rule in her life. She just rocks the edgy punk sea monster that is herself.

Somewhere between Codie Young and Robyn Lawley.

Sans platforms, I stand a slight sliver over 5'7.

I have never been called "overweight," "heavy" or "fat." However, with the exception of women who identify as plus-size and mistake women as belonging to one of two ideals, the last time anyone referred to me as "thin," "slim," or "skinny" I was prepubescent.

I am a medium-sized woman.

Unless I sit in the slumped pore posture that so rightfully characterizes my generation, my pudge remains largely unnoticeable. The way opaque tights showcase their strength and muscularity, the height they bring to my frame, even the simple mobility they allow me, my legs remain my favorite part of my body. My hips are more than suitable for childbearing and my ass is thick. Numerous lingerie store clerks claim I ought to be wearing a 32DD, which makes me feel slightly sexy, slightly cartoonish, slightly fearful of what I'm going to look like while nursing.

My closet is home to small, medium, and large size tags. Every couple weeks, I consort my body into a size 2 hand-me-down skirt because it is grunge gold, but even knowing these facts about my wardrobe, if a perfect dress presented itself to me that was either smaller or larger than my normal size 6, having convinced myself that I'd either suffocate or drown in it, I would hesitate to even try it on. I find skinny jeans unflattering and unappealing in all their stretchiness.

There are pockets of my body that move and sway during sex, and sometimes, my ass makes a clapping noise against my lover's thighs. If I put my legs straight into the air, my stomach pudge becomes slightly more noticeable. Although I doubt they knew it at the time, I am fairly certain I've slept with a man that weighs less than I.

Curvy used to mean well endowed, a full bottom, a narrow waistline (think Marilyn Monroe), but recently, fat activists have claimed the word as their own. This is problematic, because a woman may have a curvaceous body type, but not be a plus-sized woman. A woman may be a plus-sized woman, but still comfortably wear training bras and have a straight up and down silhouette. See, this redefinition of "curvy" has left many women marginalized and ignored, as this new meaning simply does not accurately fit many of the women's bodies it has grown to supposedly describe.

I am Kat Dennings before Hollywood ate a good twenty pounds of her.

I am a medium-sized woman. A sexy, medium-sized woman. I have not experienced the discrimination and hate that overweight women in my society often experience on the daily, but I do feel the repercussions of not being a size 2, or looking like the women in (most) advertisements.

So, fellow medium-sized women, you all are hot as hell, but we need to unite and start an acceptance movement for women of our type. We need a category, a label if you will, that accurately describes both how we look and how we feel about our bodies. We deserve to be marketed to, thus our faces and our bodies need to be represented in the media and models between size 2 (runway) and size 12 (plus-size) must exist.

Please and thank you,

Sarah

Don't Tell Me To Smile.

Piles of men who harass women on the daily justify their actions with claims that their intent is to simply compliment such women. Okay, why then, do men rarely "compliment" women accompanied by other men, and most commonly "compliment" women traveling alone? And why then, if this behavior is as innocuous as a compliment, do men grow angry when another man "compliments" his female significant other when she walks alone and/or accompanied by him?

The fundamental purpose of a compliment is to acknowledge your appreciation and to flatter someone else; brighten their day a little. So, if these men are attempting to acknowledge their appreciation or provoke flattery, why do they fly away in their cars, or turn the corner, as soon as they spit out their so-called compliments? Aren't such speedy runaways halting the very purpose of a compliment by disallowing the complimenter from viewing the reaction of the one complimented? Street harassers have no intention to be complimentary, they harass women to exert their power that, as a man, they have the right to publicly evaluate a stranger, as long as such stranger is female, and they may even please their friends and provide entertainment along the way.

So, what's the best way to respond to street harassment? As tempting as it is to respond with a middle finger and a big ol' "Fuck you douchebag!" such responses only encourage hostility and leave the perpetrators entertained. Instead, assume ignorance is to blame and give the man in question the benefit of the doubt. Then, educate him on why his behavior makes women feel uncomfortable. You may try something like "From early ages, women deal with men on the street yelling, staring, even following them. I realize you may not have any harmful intentions, or may be trying to be complimentary, but it makes many women feel unsafe, targeted, or victimized. It would be great if you could stop making women feel this way."

Sure, there are many men out there who are just 100% beyond repair skeeve-balls, who may even use this information as momentum (hey, my actions have the power to make others feel less than and that makes me feel powerful READ:BULLY), most of the men will respond with apologies, and even embarrassment. See, most men have no desire to be horrible to women. Sadly, they're victims of a patriarchal society that teaches women exist solely for male entertainment. In affect, men fail to comprehend why women don't want to be perceived and treated as such. Again, most men do not have the same experiences as the women do with street harassment. Rather a muffled catcall from a pick-up truck, or a "Suck my dick bitch" accompanied by some crotch-grabbing, most men never have these experiences. Thus, as man cannot comprehend the female experience within a patriarchal society, man struggles to understand the offensive nature of his unwanted attention and conversation or why women aren't flattered by his public catcalls.

This is exactly the reason why what Tatyana Fazlalizadeh is doing is so kick-ass revolutionary. Her street art project, "Stop Telling Women to Smile" provides a counter-voice to street harassment precisely where the harassment occurs, the streets. Tatyana's images work so well because they manage to be informative, yet straight-to-the-point and easy to digest (meaning one can understand their message regardless of age, race, ethnicity, education, or class). Where Fazlalizadeh's work differs from her peers is in that it is displayed in the same environment as the "enemy" hunts his prey. Instead of being presented as an academic theory to a limited demographic of individuals within a stuffy college classroom, the directness of her work has the power to honestly change how men treat women.

Fazlalizadeh's website (http://stoptellingwomentosmile.com/) mentions a handful of our nation's biggest cities that she plans to attack using the money she raised through Kickstarter. However, we all know street harassment happens in our hometowns (rather big city or rural townships), so why don't we spread Fazlalizadeh's message, by either printing out her project's portraits via her website, or creating our own from either our own experiences, or from the experiences of the women we love and care for, and utilize public space putting them around our hometowns wherever street harassment takes place. Get your friends, both female and male, involved. Why do they think street harassers do what they do? How do your male friends and female friends experiences with street harassment differ? Do the experiences of your friends differ due to race, class, and/or sexual orientation/identity?

Pride & other less important reasons I have the privilege of calling myself a feminist.

Feminism does not resonate with me the same way it does with one of my colored fellow feminist sisters living on government assistance or a single mother of four, nor does feminism affect my daily life the same way it affects a homosexual feminist man’s daily life. My ancestors, the feminists of the second wave, cannot define my feminism for they do not fully comprehend the demands of my time. The definition of what it means to be a feminist varies by social-economic class, race, sexual orientation, and generation, however we, as feminists, are bond together by a common goal to end exploitation, prejudice, and oppression that occurs as a result of one’s sexual and/or gender identity and/or orientation; my desire to redefine the word “feminist” itself, my belief of gender as an essential aspect of one’s human identity, and the extent to which feminism plays a role in my daily life allow me to rightfully credit myself as a feminist.

Ani DiFranco once said, “You are either a feminist or a sexist/misogynist. There is no box marked ‘other.’” It is both ignorant and misogynistic to not identify as a feminist.  We must not allow bigots, like Rush Limbaugh, with their sexist definitions of feminism as a movement “established to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream” or the poisoned and “patriarchal mass media” the privilege of influencing what modern society considers feminism to stand for and consist of (hooks 1).

By declaring oneself a feminist, and then leading a positive, successful, and progressive life, one accomplishes two things. First, identification as a feminist implies that feminism is something one should desire to belong to and be proud to declare, instead of something to be ashamed of or something to be avoided. Secondly, by leading a positive, successful, and progressive life, one continues to dismantle the stereotype that feminists are somehow nothing more than hostile combat-boot-wearing misandrists, but instead highlight the reality that feminists are people of all religious beliefs, racial backgrounds, sexual identities, and genders, linked together by their goal to “end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression” (hooks 1). It is we real self-proclaimed feminists who get to decide what feminism means to us and the societies in which we live, we, who share the responsibility of taking back the word and educating the public about how feminists think and live.

Furthermore, when we identify with a particular political party or as partaking in a particular dietary lifestyle, we make a conscious decision that this is part of who we are as people. Just as political parties and dietary lifestyles are conscious choices we make, so too is identifying with or without a particular gender. Thus, as gender is a choice, it should exist as a conscious and empowering aspect of our identity. This focus on the importance of gender and how humanity uses it both to understand themselves and as a means of socialization is common debate within the feminist movement.

            Lastly, my LGBTQ+ and end rape culture activism, together with my devotion to writing a blog focusing on feminist news and women’s rights issues, further emphasize my identity as a feminist. As a senior in high school, I founded my high school’s first Gay Straight Alliance, and spent much time focused on LGBTQ+ activism.  Additionally, I have participated in Cleveland’s annual SlutWalk protests, a demonstration with the goal of ending rape culture.  That is not to say that showing up to a weekly club meeting, or simply walking in a march makes one a feminist. Neither does staying current with global news and popular culture and writing opinion pieces in response. I only use these examples to show how feminism exists in my daily life and how feminism significantly affects how I chose to spend my time. These three examples highlight how feminist objectives are a profound passion of mine, as essential as water to my very functioning and well-being.

Overall, my belief for the advancement of women, men, transgenders, intersexuals, and all those who do not identify, to no longer be oppressed and restricted due to what lies between their legs, or more simply put, their sex, allows me to label myself a feminist. The contents of the essays I chose to read, and the blog posts I write, along with my LGBTQ+ and end rape culture activism, constitute my feminism, but must importantly, my pride in my identity, as a Caucasian, middle class, bisexual woman, make me a proud feminist.

Works Cited

Cochrane, Kira. "'I'm considering a Revolution'" The Guardian. The Guardian, 9 Oct.

2007. Web. 02 Sept. 2013.

Hooks, Bell. "Feminist Politics: Where We Stand." Feminism Is for Everybody:

Passionate Politics. Cambridge: South End, 2000. 1-6. Print.

Limbaugh, Rush. "Study Confirms Undeniable Truth of Life #24." Rush Limbaugh.

Premiere Radio Networks, 16 Apr. 2012. Web. 02 Sept. 2013.

Miley's VMA performance, and how yet again, white feminism has completely ignored our sisters of color.

Perhaps I'm a little late in contributing my commentary regarding Miley Cyrus' Sunday, August 25th Video Music Awards (VMAs) performance, but upon reading article upon article in response to her actions and overhearing the news circulating college classrooms and dormitories, I have been left revolted and disappointed. Allow me to tell you why.

Somehow, not surprisingly, in our discussion of Miley's right to explore her sexuality, and the slut-shaming young Miley's performance has aroused, we have silenced the discussion of the racist nature of her performance. Instead of discussing the tightness of her apparel, or how stupid her hair looked, can we discuss her use of people as literal props (her back-up dancers, all black, wore Teddy bear costumes), or the fact that Miley's newfound sexuality can only emerge in the presence of black female bodies? How about the fact that her performance perpetuates the notion that black women are somehow inherently more sexual than their Caucasian counterparts; hyper-sexual, animalistic. Let us discuss the fact that her performance mimicked aspects of blackface minstrel shows? Not a single black person won an award last night, yet Miley mimics black culture and music all she wants.

As feminist media is saturated with financially stable white women, instead of discussing these issues, they have instead written piece upon piece about slut shaming. Now, don't get me wrong. Slut shaming is an important issue that deserves attention, but what I'm so disgusted by is the fact that the mainstream feminist media, has successfully ignored the racial implications of Miley's performance.

From slapping her dancer's ass, to her implication of rimming, Miley has turned black women's bodies into a good, a product to be devalued, sold and traded for entertainment purposes. Her only interaction with any of her dancers was her repeated slapping of one bootilicious black woman's ass, thus implying that a colored woman's only worth is the extent to with she can be sexualized, because ya'know what else does an African American woman have to add to a VMA performance besides her voluptuous behind?

Additionally troublesome, Miley's explicit attempts to belong within black culture, and then running off and performing in the manner in which she did, suggests that black culture is all the same, or simply put, that all black people twerk and listen to a similar musical genre. Miley, there is much more to being black than a style of sexualized dancing. Note how Miley declared her desire for a "black sound," but did not explore Afrofuturism, or the blues, or jazz, she headed straight for an urban sound. Urban music is not the entirety of black culture, and it does not resonate with the entirety of an entire group of people. You want a more urban sound for your next album? Fantastic. Don't squeeze all African Americans into one generalized genre in the process.

I have heard two major defenses regarding Miley's performance, each equally problematic. First, that Miley's only twenty, and therefore, "just a kid," that we're all being too hard on the poor girl. But the thing is, Miley isn't just a kid. She's a multimillionaire teeny-bopper phenomenon well aware of her influence and she knows exactly what she's doing. Just a kid? No. She has been quoted saying her new album has "a black sound." Her attempt to further her career and break free from her good girl image by submerging into traditionally black aesthetics is clear. Secondly, I have heard journalists defend Miley by stating her performance was just an attempt to explore her newfound sexuality. Okay, that defense is so troublesome it stings. That implies that in order to be sexual and express one's sexual being you need black bodies. This suggests that to be sexual is to be black, and to be black is to be sexual.

So Miley, you want to be down with colored folk? Then you need to get your fucking shit together and start treating them like actual human beings, not objects to be broken down into sexualized bits and pieces. Secondly, crack open some history books and get yourself a tutor, because you clearly know nothing about the culture in which you demand to borrow from and so desperately wish to belong. You can celebrate Black culture without perpetuating all the stereotypes and without contributing to the rhetoric that black women's bodies aren't their own.

I'm not saying we can't borrow aspects from cultures that are not our own. That'd be ridiculous and regressive, but when you borrow something, you treat it with care, you know it's history and significance. You do not fling it on and off and get rewarded with praise and career advancements in response. African Americans, Native Americans, the LGBT community, etc, etc, do not have the privilege of taking that identity on and off, thus if you are to borrow from such a culture, you are to respect such culture. We must all work towards a borrowing that empowers and celebrates, not isolates and offends. When we borrow from another culture, we must not put it through our culture's individual filter, as Miley did with black culture.

On a lighter note, I bet Miley's little latex panties gave her a mad yeast infection...that shit's unbreathable.

To be woman.

To be woman is to exist within the grasp of a culture in which from birth your body is so intimately tied to your value as an individual that regardless of the encouragement Mama and Papa bestowed on you, or the immeasurable positivity and support your role model kick-ass feminist teacher poured atop your developing mind, or the overwhelming self-confidence blossoming within your soul, you are perpetually bombarded, from all angles, with the devilish reminder that your body defines your entire existence.  A reminder that as a female, you are burdened with the tangible weight of the male gaze. Not only from your male peers, but from the people you are told to trust and respect, rather the father of your best friend, your history teacher, or your soccer coach. From childhood on you are forced to swallow a pill, the pill of inescapable self-consciousness that your body contains the potential for both danger and shame, and that it is your responsibility to disguise it, hide it, in a way unoffensive, unenticing to the outside world. 

So tangible are the female bodily conduct rules they need not be verbalized. The walk to the principal's office for the sliver of belly that reveals itself when you raise your hand in Spanish class, or the youth group leader's declaration that the unintentional sight of a blossoming woman's cleavage is to blame for men's fall from grace. You learn that your body stands as a center of public debate, open for everyone's opinions, from your male lab partner declaring your jeans make your ass look fine, to the male-dominated congress dictating the parameters of "legitimate" rape.

To be woman is to live within a woman's body, held to a set of paradoxical standards that leave you to consistently doubt your instincts, and hurdle over dozens of truths in pursuit of a unattainable perfection.

To be man, true, honest man, is to admit you can not comprehend what is it to be woman.

Pure Misogyny in a Dollar Store Disguise.

Personally, I find one of the most hauntingly sick images of misogyny to be the women who proudly proclaim they aren't like most women and don't like/get along with other women. Not only do statements like this place women into a mass generalization of sameness, but it implies as a sex we are something negative (as in, if we were something valued, why would a woman, someone of our own kind, want to distance herself from identifying with us?). What do statements like that even mean? Some women watch NFL on Sundays, some go shopping with their children, some of us kiss men, some of us kiss women, some of us wear eyeliner, some of don't shave a single hair on our bodies. One can not rightfully claim that she does not act like a woman because women do not adhere to some defined list of actions and behaviors.

These women are not rare anomalies. They are perpetrators of misogyny and causalities to the vast destruction of preconceived gender norms. 

I kinda always knew I’d end up your ex-girlfriend.

When men proclaim that their ex-girlfriend was "crazy" or "psycho" what they oftentimes ought to be saying is that the woman had emotional, mental, or physical needs he was either unprepared or unwilling to grant her. Perhaps she cried when he touched her a certain way, or got a little paranoid eating junk food in front of him, or always liked to know when he was on his way home from his dangerous job in a city known for its gang activity. Maybe she preferred kisses and cuddles over sex, maybe the thought of taking a shower alone sans shower sex seemed foreign to her. Regardless, the fact that a woman has musts outside of some sick undemanding agreement concocted by some jerk of a man, does not make a woman "crazy" or "psycho." It makes her a human being, and part of that human package includes emotions, life experience, and flaws. On the other hand, defining any behavior inconvenient to him as insane does make a man a complete imbecile.

To all the women who fancy themselves so stable, so ideal, so unlike that dreaded ex your partner speaks of, you're not so special. For when a man prefaces your worthiness with statements like "Most women are crazy/psychotic, but..." what they are saying is that they have already placed the entirety of womankind into a generalized category of insanity. You are no exception for you too will do something outside of his pleasant agreement. You too will be cast aside as mad.

I am looking at you.

I am looking at you who 

snickers at the Subway employee, who happens to be female, as she makes your sandwich

in your Two in the Shirt (T.I.T.S) brand t-shirt.

You, the white teen who greets his friends with the N-word

only to proudly chant "I raped you, faggot" upon winning a series of video games to dehumanize your heterosexual buddies

who's eHarmony profile declares him a "quality guy."

He's just grown tired of being "friend-zoned," because sexless relationships with women are just oh so meaningless.

To all the men who bubbled in yes to the following questions

Are women obligated to shave their legs?

Do some women asked to be raped?

Is it okay to have sexual intercourse with a woman under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol?

Would you "force a women" into having sex with you?

I am looking at you.

To every man who responds to the fact that one third of the planet's female population will be raped in her lifetime by declaring that the statistics are mere lies, and the wage gap a myth.

To the men who believe the "pimpwalk" was a clever response to Slutwalk, a protest aimed at deconstructing victim blaming.

To the men who declare rape "surprise sex."

To all those who equate believing in the value of your gender to invading Poland by dismissing all self-proclaimed feminists as "feminazis"

To all the men who have banded together to play the collective role of the devil's advocate in response to a young woman's Facebook status concerning domestic violence

To every boy

guy

man

who has dismissed feminism because it "doesn't involve him"

To every boy 

guy 

man

who has ever

beaten

raped

dehumanized

a girl

gal

woman

To every male who justifies his behavior by declaring it's all just a joke, or that he isn't like that dude

To every boy

guy 

man

who is genuinely confused why feminists are 

angered 

upset

enraged

you're part of a culture

that perpetually chokes us 

girls

gals

women

but tells us 

to just breathe.

The Essential Wrongness of Complimenting Physical Beauty.

Yes, there is something essentially wrong about complimenting another woman on her physical appearance. If you're already flailing about in disagreement, let's take a look at a few of the most heavily trafficked social media sites. If there's nothing damaging about females praising each other's physical appearance, why then, are scores of young girls reblogging the same images of frighteningly skinny women and saying "I wish I looked like this!" or why is it that the young women with the most "likes" or "Omg! You're so pretty!" comments on Facebook commonly feature a similar facial structure, body type, and ethnicity? Not to mention, phrases like "I'll be happy when I'm skinny" or "I need to stop eating." that appear all over young women's twitter accounts.

Firstly, society's definition of physical beauty is far more exclusive than it is inclusive. With the majority of women left out of this narrow ideal, a cycle of pursuing unobtainable goals, and the failure that follows such unrealistic desires traps many women into a series of low-self esteem, lack of self-confidence, and even self-hate. Compliments on the basis of outward physical beauty place a heightened importance on physical appearance. If it is the women who happen to fit into this narrow perception of beauty that are repeatedly praised and admired, where does that leave all the women who don’t adhere to this ideal, rather it be due to size, race, sexual identity, etc., etc. Not only are these women not seen as beautiful, but they are not seen as something society has deemed of utmost significance.

Women’s complimenting other women on their looks perpetuates a notion of women as objects of beauty designed to satisfy a male-dominated culture. When beauty is for what women receive acknowledgement, than beauty is what women will strive to obtain, instead of developing intellectually, artistically, or emotionally. Rewarding women for their appearance feeds into a culture that asserts a woman's value is determined by her looks. As women, it is our duty to dismantle societal pressure to adhere to one standard of beauty.

If we are going to focus on the concept of beauty at all, in order for it to be a positive message that does not leave masses feeling less than, it needs to be an all inclusive movement. That is, humanity, as a species, is praised as beautiful, not a specific set of ideals in which one may fit into due to dumb luck or strive to achieve. Imagine a world where a size 14 transgender African American women who prefers to wear her hair natural and does not usually wear make-up has the same worth, and is seen as equally beautiful, as a size 4 blonde 20 something with long mermaid-esque blonde hair, perky breasts, killer abs, and a wide-eyed appearance perfected by MAC cosmetics. Imagine a world where models can have wrinkles, scars, tattoos, and cellulite. Imagine a world where pop stars can be post-menopausal, a billboard woman proudly sports her hijab, and the commercial actress attempting to sell you the latest gotta-have-it product is a plus size Asian with acne.

'Tis much more beneficial to be part of a movement that reminds us, both male and female, of the subjectivity of beauty and disarms the construct that society has too long brainwashed mass culture into worshiping and adhering. As no one chooses the arrangement of their facial features or the thickness of their bone structure, we should pride one another on all that we can control. Instead of reinforcing the idea that the most valuable thing a woman can be is “pretty,” we should appreciate qualities of strength, such as intelligence, humor, courage, talent, and creativity in each other, preferring to possess such character traits ourselves over being “pretty” or “hot.” Our appearances should be something to have fun and playfully experiment, but little more.

If Only.

If the average straight white male

grew as disgusted with slut-shaming as he does Taylor Swift's new single or teenage girls setting their profile pictures to "duck-face" selfies,

was as enraged with men who think having sex with intoxicated women is perfectly legal and justifiable as he is with his hometown's star athlete upon signing with another city's team,

or turned his back to rape jokes as quickly as he does overweight women,

spent half as much time as he does fixated on sports educating his friends on how to respect females,

were as eager to participate in protests addressing the consequences of victim-blaming as he is to lose his virginity, 

were as humiliated to belong to a sex in which 58% would "force a woman to have sex" if they could get away with it as he is when someone suggests he is homosexual

viewed treating women as his equal as "manly" or "masculine" as he does guns, fishing, and hunting

or associated sexual violence and assault with the same weakness he transcribes to crying in public and "chick flicks"

the perpetuation of rape culture would cease to exist. 

Note: Statistic taken from Margo Maine's Body Wars.

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.

If we can handle childbirth we can handle mosh pits.

Could someone do me the favor of locating the source of the notion that females are somehow incapable of moshing? I should not be subjected to comments such as “Not to be sexist, but girl, are you okay? or “Wow, you’re one tough cookie” whenever I attend a Japandroids or Joyce Manor show. Gentle reminder: the female body was designed for childbearing. We can physically hold our own at concerts.

I have long ago grown sick and tired of finding myself entangled in a pit surrounded by men, wondering where all the women are, only to realize majority of them are standing far behind me, increasingly distancing themselves from the stage. I encourage all you women who enjoy such events to put a halt to this male domination. Share the experience amongst us hormonal, commonly intoxicated, and highly excitable young people in the glory that is high contact.

Choice is the power of feminism.

“It’s so funny that Sarah is a feminist because she dresses like such a slut.”

What would be truly ironic is if, as a feminist, I allowed others to dictate what I chose to put on my body. Feminists, simply put, are people who believe in equality between people of all sexual identities. Thus, as people, feminists come in all the variations that people come in. We are the last people to be found guilty of slut shaming. What one wears or does not wear on his or her body is not a direct reflection on his or her sexual history, and secondly, one’s sexual history does not grant them slut status.

Not that I should feel any obligation or pressure to defend myself, but even from a conservative stand point, I do not dress provocatively. A typical Sarah outfit consists of some 1990's wannabe maxiskirt / lil' frock, opaque black tights, vegan leather or denim jacket, and Creepers.

Oftentimes, men thrust the term “slut” upon women who emit some sort of sexual prowess or cause them to feel some sort of sexual desire. I can’t control what your mind turns to when you look at me, nor would I let that have any influence over how I dress. I can however exert my freedom and wear whatever I want.

As I became enlightened about the above comment I was instantly reminded of the second wave's sensible show debate. Uhh, hello? It's 2012. Are people still so ignorant that they think feminists do not wear make-up and high heels? Have we, as a society, still not moved passed the stereotype that all feminists are fugly butches forced into a life of angsty misery because no guys want to be with them? 

"Feminism is not a dirty word. It does not mean you hate men, it does not mean you hate girls that have nice legs and a tan, and it does not mean you are a 'bitch' or 'dyke' ; it means you believe in equality." - Kate Nash