Angry face

One of the consequences of street harassment I hate is that I can feel myself tensing up and putting on my "angry" face when I'm walking down the street and passing a man (or group of men) that I'm afraid might say something harassing to me. I hate that I do this. I hate that I can't just say "hello" back to someone because I am afraid of showing any acknowledgement (or God forbid, interest) because then I'll just be opening up myself to more harassment (because as always, it's my fault. Right?).

Speaking of it being my fault, I am sure I'm not the only woman that after being harassed on the street thinks "Well, maybe if I weren't wearing my tight jeans that wouldn't have happened." Or "Maybe my lipstick makes me look like I'm trying too hard and is drawing too much attention." And I FREAKING HATE THAT I QUESTION THIS AND BLAME MYSELF. Luckily, I can catch my blame and think "No, this is not my fault at all. I deserve to walk down the street WEARING WHATEVER I WANT TO and still feel safe and respected."

Street harassment has really been on my mind lately, because it impacts my life almost daily. And it leaves me feeling completely powerless with no idea how to change it. My plan at this point is to come up with a stock response, like "Your objectification of me is completely inappropriate and offensive." Again though..... I hate that I have to think about what to say to street harassers. And honestly I'm angry that men don't have to worry about this (and please don't misunderstand me to be saying that I wish street harassment would happen to men - I just really wish it wouldn't happen to anybody). I think that's gotta be part of why some men don't think it's a big deal, because they don't understand how unsafe and dirty it makes women feel.

What do you think? Women, how do you respond to street harassment? Men, have you ever been with another guy and seen him harass a woman? What did you do and how did it make you feel?

"Get some self-respect!" AKA why I am a buzzkill at Sasquatch

Recently I was at the Sasquatch Music Festival at the Gorge Ampitheatre. I am continually surprised by how many women think it's totally appropriate to wear a bikini just because it's over 70 degrees out, even though they're at a concert festival and there is no chance of being able to swim in the river. Alas, I digress.

There were a couple of times when women (actually, I might as well just say 'girls' because I'm quite sure they were all under 20) were shown on the big screen and decided to pull their shirts up and show their breasts. While some other people are wooing and cheering, I'm the buzzkill up on the hill yelling "Get some self-respect!"

I posted a quick comment on Facebook about the situation and my response to it, and had a friend send me a message asking me if I've read the book I Am Not a Slut by Leora Tanenbaum. Part of this books' summary on Harper Collins reads:

"Young women are encouraged to express themselves sexually. Yet when they do, they are derided as 'sluts.' Caught in a double bind of mixed sexual messages, young women are confused. To fulfill the contradictory roles of being sexy but not slutty, they create an 'experienced' identity on social media - even if they are not sexually active - while ironically referring to themselves and their friends as 'sluts.'"

As a disclaimer, this is my blog and only represents my opinions :) And I am still trying to figure out my own opinions so if I say something that you disagree with or want to dialogue on more please let me know. I am just trying to figure this stuff out too. 

Here are some of my thoughts:

Part of the reason why girls/women that show their boobs on the big screen at a concert bother me is I don't think they're doing it for themselves. They're not doing it to feel good about themselves; they're doing it to show their bodies to other people. And to a point I think these girls feel like it’s expected that they do so, and that we are only to be judged on our bodies. If the crowd didn't hoot and holler at women who lift their tops, I think there would be much less encouragement to show one's breasts to thousands of strangers. And that’s why I think that some of these girls have a lack of self-respect. They’re brainwashed by our culture that sexually objectifies women, and they are self-objectifying to the point that the only thing they have to show is their body, namely their naked breasts. They don't respect themselves or anything that they are beyond what they have to offer sexually. 

I do wonder in the summary for I Am Not a Slut where this encouragement for young women to express themselves sexually is coming from. My biggest guess is that pressure comes from the friggin media that glorifies porn stars and half naked (actually WAY more than half naked…. more like 95% naked) pop stars that are supposedly the epitome of how a young women is supposed to look and behave. Which of course I have to call BS on all that… but that’s a whole other blog post. And the whole “young women referring to their friends as sluts” thing – yeah, we need to move past that. I will admit that, along with many women of my generation, I thought it was hilarious in Mean Girls when Regina says to Karen “Boo, you whore!” I also may have used that line with friends in the past. BUT I do think it’s time to for women to support and encourage one another, and calling someone a slut or a whore (even in jest) tears us all down. It makes men think it’s okay to call us that too, or for women we aren’t friends with to call us those things as well (and for us to do the same).

I do have to call out some of my own inconsistencies, though. My argument in this blog has been that women need self-respect and a woman that respects herself will not show her boobs on a jumbotron and that if she has the desire to do so it’s because she is being sexually objectified and objectifying herself to fulfill the media’s “expectations” of her. Okay, yep, that’s all well and good. However, I know that I fall prey to this in other categories. For example, I wear makeup. Do I wear makeup because society tells me to? Or do I wear makeup because I like it? OR, even more confusingly, is it impossible to separate the two? Would I even think about makeup or liking makeup if it wasn’t socially expected?

At the end of the day, I think part of the key to feminism and female empowerment is women truly knowing themselves, at the deepest part of their souls. When we are true to ourselves and act in a way that is in accordance with our hearts, and we encourage other women to act the same, that is a step in the right direction. And we should continue to sharpen our minds and strengthen our hearts by reading, volunteering at a food bank, caring for our friends and strangers.... all these things will remind us that we are indeed more than our bodies and we are holistic, beautiful people regardless of the clothes we were or the makeup we cake on our faces. 

What do you think? Would you read a book called I Am Not a Slut? Would you yell at girls showing their boobs on the jumbotron? Would you show your boobs on the jumbotron?

Let me know what you're thinking. 

For lack of a better title: Street harassment sucks

I would be willing to bet that you could ask just about any female you know (especially if she is under 50 years old) if she's ever been the victim of street harassment, and she will say yes. I unfortunately can say yes to that question as well. I've been the victim of street harassment more times than I can count. Usually I get pissed off, text a bunch of friends about it, receive their support, and then slowly move on.

Last week I was harassed walking from my car to my workplace. Not that it matters, but to paint a picture for you: it's Friday morning, 8am, and I am exhausted. So exhausted I was ready to break down at any moment. Exhausting week, lots of stuff going on and little sleep. I'm walking past a parked black car and there's a man in his 50's sitting in it. "Hey there good lookin'!" he says. I slow down and literally stare at him in my tired daze, thinking that maybe I know him, in which case this exchange will be funny. "Excuse me?" I say. I realize that I indeed do not know him, and he says "Lookin' good today!" As I was processing what was happening, all I could say was "I don't know you!" He looks at me, a little confused. "You are being incredibly rude!" I say. He still seems confused and sits there for a moment looking at me, and then he speeds off.

I'm left, continuing on my walk to work, super pissed and now it was my turn to be confused as I'm trying to process what just happened. As any twenty-something would do, I post about it on Facebook when I get into my office. I have many amazingly supportive friends (men and women) who respond with comments like "Sending good thoughts your way!" and "Thanks for calling him out!"and probably my favorite response from my co-worker, a guy in his 40s: "Sorry you have to endure this and all women endure this disrespectful and disgusting behavior. Thanks for posting and letting folks know - we need to correct this as a culture."

I have to admit that for some reason, this instance of street harassment has really stuck with me. Maybe it's because it was only 5 days ago. Maybe it's because I'm just really freaking fed up with all this bullshit. To be honest I think a big part of it is that I was harassed while walking from my car (where I frequently park) into my workplace. This is a stretch of road I walk multiple times per week, if not multiple times per day. And I'm realizing that I'm kind of freaked out to walk that stretch of road, like he's going to drive by again and recognize me. That makes me so angry that this guy, with literally 8 words coming out of his mouth, has made me feel unsafe and uncomfortable not just in that moment when he harassed me, but EVERY TIME I'VE WALKED THAT STRETCH OF ROAD SINCE. To be honest this experience pales immensely in comparison, but has made me think about the women I've sat with at the hospital as an advocate after they've been sexually assaulted, and how many of them were assaulted in their home, in a friend's home, at work, etc, and not only do they have to revisit those places but many of them were assaulted by MEN THEY KNOW, men they'll have to see again. Men who are their bosses. Men who are their brother's friend.

It tears my heart apart to know that people's actions can have such a life-shattering impact on others. That many people who are sexually assaulted are never able to trust again, are never able to feel comfortable in certain situations, are never able to fully LIVE again. Just my small experience with street harassment has opened my eyes further to what these amazingly brave survivors are dealing with.

So? What do we do? I think so much of it starts with how we treat women and value them, or how we mistreat and don't value them. When are we all going to stand up and say this is not okay? When are we as a culture and as individuals going to stop objectifying women? And women, when are we going to stop objectifying ourselves? We are all worth so much more, and deserve to feel safe and valued in ALL SITUATIONS. I hope, pray, and work towards a day when that is true for everyone. Until then, I am grateful for my friends and colleagues - these amazing women and men I am honored to know - that are working for change, that are having tough conversations. I value all of you and am so glad to have you as my partners on this tough road.

Fifty Shades of Masochism

Fifty Shades of Masochism

Masochism:

1.     The deriving of sexual gratification from being physically or emotionally abused.

2.     The deriving of pleasure from being humiliated or mistreated, either by another or by oneself.

(www.thefreedictionary.com)

I was recently at my monthly Crisis Response Advocate meeting, and we were talking about the continuing education we are all required to complete for the year. (For those who don’t know, as CRAs we answer a 24/7 sexual assault crisis line, including meeting someone at the hospital after they have been sexually assaulted) One of my fellow volunteers jokingly asked if she could count reading Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James as continuing education hours. “It’s full of sex, rape, power, everything!” she said, a little too excitedly for me. Hearing an advocate peer say that made me even more curious about the whole Fifty Shades of Grey phenomenon. When a book becomes that crazily popular, I am usually skeptical of it (except for The Hunger Games… those are actually pretty good), but especially with the erotic nature of the Fifty Shades of Grey series, I was super skeptical. So I thought I’d do a little research online and see what it was all about. Below is the excerpt I found and base this blog entry on (excerpt from http://darhkportal.com/2012/04/frisky-friday-fifty-shades-of-grey-excerpt-with-giveaway/).

“Oh dear, Anastasia, you moved," [Christian said]. "What am I going to do to you?” I’m panting loudly. All I can concentrate on is his voice and his touch. Nothing else is real. Nothing else matters, nothing else registers on my radar. His fingers slip into my panties, and I’m rewarded with his unguarded sharp intake of air.   “Oh, baby,” he murmurs and he pushes two fingers inside me.     I gasp.

“Ready for me so soon,” he says. He moves his fingers tantalizingly slowly, in, out, and I push against him, tilting my hips up.

“You are a greedy girl,” he scolds softly, and his thumb circles my clitoris and then presses down.

I groan loudly as my body bucks beneath his expert fingers. He reaches up and pushes the t-shirt over my head so I can see him as I blink in the soft light of my sidelight. I long to touch him.

“I want to touch you,” I breathe.

“I know,” he murmurs. He leans down and kisses me, his fingers still moving rhythmically inside me, his thumb circling and pressing. His other hand scoops my hair off my head and holds my head in place. His tongue mirrors the actions of his fingers, claiming me. My legs begin to stiffen as I push against his hand. He gentles his hand, so I’m brought back from the brink. He does this again and again. It’s so frustrating… Oh please, Christian, I scream in my head

“This is your punishment, so close and yet so far. Is this nice?” he breathes in my ear. I whimper, exhausted, pulling against my restraint. I’m helpless, lost in an erotic torment.

“Please,” I beg, and he finally takes pity on me.

“How shall I fuck you, Anastasia?”

Oh… my body starts to quiver. He stills again.    “Please.”

“What do you want, Anastasia?”

“You… now,” I cry.

“Shall I fuck you this way, or this way, or this way? There’s an endless choice,” he breathes against my lips. He withdraws his hand and reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. He kneels up between my legs, and very slowly he pulls my panties off, staring down at me, his eyes gleaming. He puts on the condom. I watch fascinated, mesmerized.

“How nice is this?” he says as he strokes himself.

“I meant it as a joke,” I whimper. Please fuck me, Christian.    He raises his eyebrows as his hand moves up and down his impressive length.

“A joke?” His voice is menacingly soft.

“Yes. Please, Christian,” I beseech him.

“Are you laughing now?”

“No,” I mewl.

I am just one ball of sexual, tense, need. He stares down at me for a moment, measuring my need, then he grabs me suddenly and flips me over. It takes me by surprise, and because my hands are tied, I have to support myself on my elbows. He pushes both my knees up the bed so my behind is in the air, and he slaps me hard. Before I can react, he plunges inside me. I cry out – from the slap and from his sudden assault, and I come instantly again and again, falling apart beneath him as he continues to slam deliciously into me. He doesn’t stop. I’m spent. I can’t take this… and he pounds on and on and on… then I’m building again… surely not… no…   “Come on, Anastasia, again,” he growls through clenched teeth, and unbelievably, my body responds, convulsing around him as I climax anew, calling out his name. I shatter again into tiny fragments, and Christian stills, finally letting go, silently finding his release. He collapses on top of me, breathing hard.   “How nice was that?” he asks through his gritted teeth.    Oh my.

I lie panting and spent on the bed, eyes closed as he slowly pulls out of me. He rises immediately and dresses. When he’s fully clothed, he climbs back on the bed and gently undoes his tie and pulls my t-shirt off. I flex my fingers and rub my wrists, smiling at the woven pattern imprinted on my wrists from the tie. I re-adjust my bra as he pulls the duvet and quilt over me. I stare up at him completely dazed, and he smirks down at me.

“That was really nice,” I whisper, smiling coyly.

Mind you, this is all I’ve read of the book. I don’t know the characters or the entire context of their relationships with one another. However Wikipedia is a pretty great resource for the synopsis of the book (which is where I gathered all of the following quotes). I’ve gathered that Christian Grey is the boss of the main character, Ana. Before Grey will engage in a relationship with Ana, he plans to have her sign two contracts: one is a non-disclosure agreement forbidding her from discussing anything they do together, and the other is a contract of “dominance and submission” which also states that “there will be no romantic relationship, only a sexual one.” The contract “even forbids Ana from touching Grey or making eye contact with him.”

The relationship between Grey and Ana is one characterized by BDSM…

BD: Bondage and Discipline

DS: Domination and Submission

SM: Sadism and Masochism

…..equaling BDSM.

Of course a relationship based on beating and bonding can’t be all sunshine and rainbows, and the tension between Ana and Grey “eventually comes to a head after Ana asks Grey to punish her in order to show her how extreme a BDSM relationship with him could be… Grey fulfills Ana’s request, beating her with a belt.”

To be honest I’m quite bothered by this book being so crazy popular. I’m bothered that my fellow Crisis Response Advocates not only read these books, but also enjoyed them and joked about them being a guilty pleasure. I’m not trying to argue that Ana was being raped, because from what I can gather she was a willing participant in these sexual activities with Grey. Whether or not she was coerced and brainwashed is another story (interestingly, she was a virgin before her first sexual encounter and contract signing with Grey).

What really bothers me is this: most of the women I know (yes this is a generalization) are, or strive to be, independent and successful; they long deeply to know themselves and to love themselves; they want to find someone (or perhaps multiple someones) to be connected on a deep level, to share in that sexual experience together and to be empowered by it (sex is a pretty empowering thing…. I’ll do a blog post on that later).

I’m not trying to just shut down anyone who reads and enjoys this book series. However, I feel that it is so important for both men and women to be filling their minds with stories that build us up, that bring us closer together and help us understand one another, helping us see each other as real human beings and not just genitalia and hormones and a means to getting off.

 And yet…. Here are the housewives, young professional women, and moms of America, reading a book about some handsome powerful asshole who thinks it’s okay to use a woman just for sex, and a woman who is not only okay with that but who longs for more. More physical abuse, more humiliation, more spanking, more blindfolding…… When does this end? What about her soul? What about who she is? What about Grey’s sexual objectification or her? What about Ana’s sexual objectification of herself? As women we seem to be fighting for equality and fairness, but when it comes down to it do we just want to be spanked and told what to do?

The Women's Room by Marilyn French

I was assigned to read TheWomen’s Room about five years ago in a Gender, Politics, and Law class. Istarted reading it and enjoyed it, but I never finished it. It was always muchharder for me to read a book because I was being assigned to read it, not justreading it because I wanted to. Over the last five years I’ve prettyconsistently been trying to read it all, and this summer I finally accomplishedit! The book itself is pretty heavy and dense, and even though the languageisn’t hard to understand, there are so many concepts that hit close to homethat it takes a while to work through it all. The parts I am going to highlightas the ones that stuck out to me the most are mainly towards the very beginningof the book. I think that is because the book starts out with her as a child,and then details some of her experiences in college and as a young woman. Iidentify with that part of her life the most because that’s where I’m at. Therest of the book is definitely thought provoking and made me think of otherwomen in my life – my mom, sister, grandma, older friends, etc. But for mepersonally, this is where The Women’s Room really hit home….

“She saw her choiceclearly as being between sex and independence, and she was paralyzed by that.Since she always risked pregnancy, which meant dependence, a sexual woman livedwith Damocles’ sword always over her head. Sex meant surrender to the male. IfMira wanted the independent life, she would have to give up being sexual. Thesituation was a terrible incarnation of her masochistic fantasies. Women wereindeed victims by nature.”

This part really stuck out to me because I’ve never thoughtabout sex in this capacity. In Mira’s situation, she is dating a guy namedLanny whom she will not have sex with. In the paragraphs before the abovequote, Lanny tells Mira that because of her he was forced to resort to datinganother girl described as “the campus prostitute.” Mira’s reasoning for nothaving sex with him is that she was too scared of sex to risk it with himwithout having a sense that he would be there for her. So that’s the capacityin which Mira sees sex and independence as being mutually exclusive: sex is a riskthat she will not take if it’s not with someone she can trust. That makesperfect sense to me. A little later in the book, Mira talks about herrelationship with her husband Norm after she finds out she’s pregnant:

“She thought she hadescaped, but all she had done was to let the enemy into her house, let him intoher body, he was growing there now. He thought in the same way they did; he,like them, believed he had innate rights over her because he was male and shewas female; he, like them, believed in things they called virginity and purity,or corruption and whoredom, in women.”

In the situation with Lanny, Mira was scared of dependenceon him if she got pregnant. Even if Lanny had stuck around if she got pregnant,she wouldn’t just be dependent on him, she would be dependent on others to helpget them through it. I wonder if Lanny thought about it that way, if he had anyfear of what would happen if he got Mira pregnant. Maybe because it didn’tphysically affect his own body he didn’t have to think about it. In Mira’srelationship with Ben at the end of the book, he tells her he wants to have achild, which is not really what she wants: “Thechild would still be hers, although he was the one who wanted it.” Itdoesn’t seem to matter to her who the man was: whether it was a boy shecasually dated in college, her husband, or a man whom she deeply loved. Herthoughts on pregnancy and dependence, and also the lack of independence, seemto always be with her.

I’m not completely sure what I think about this. In all ofthose relationships, Mira seemed to lack a sense of partnership. Her relationshipwith Ben was the closest to that, but it was still very much about what hewanted. What he wanted was a child, which Mira knew would mainly be herresponsibility. In many ways she had passed that point in her life, as a 39-year-oldwoman who already had two children. Initially I was a little bummed (spoileralert!) when Ben left without Mira and they never saw each other again.However, if Ben wanted kids and Mira did not, that’s definitely a deal breaker.Ben did assume that Mira would want to have kids, just like he assumed that shewould pick up and leave her life in order to go to Lianu with him. She respondsreally passionately to that. Perhaps the main reason for that is she thoughtBen was different; she didn’t think he was like all the other men in her lifethat had tried to control her. Then in some ways she blames herself for thathappening: “She felt smaller than he, sheflattered him, sincerely, because she found him more important, larger, betterthan herself. That was what he had been led to expect.” She is justifyinghim thinking that his plans are more important than hers by blaming it onherself. Why did she find him more important than she found herself?

When I think about having children, I think of it as anexciting time for my husband and me. I’ve never connected pregnancy withsurrendering myself to a man, or to just letting go of my dreams and goals.Maybe that’s because I’ve assumed the man I would want to have children withwould be my partner, that as much as possible we would be equally responsiblefor our children. Why did Mira not have that expectation? I’m not willing tosay it was just because of the generation she grew up in, because I thinkthat’s crap. Was it her upbringing? Was it just chance that the men she was inrelationships with were not true partners? I don’t think so; it seems to bemore widespread than that. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations, but I don’tthink that’s the case either. Perhaps Mira had internalized through herupbringing, her experiences, and what she heard from other women that she waslargely responsible for raising children on her own. And perhaps some of thatwas the generation. But how much of that is present in our time now? How manywomen are expected to be the ones who take care of the kids, becoming dependenton their husbands? What’s really missing here is a sense of interdependence.Why are the men not dependent on the women? And it seems like even though theyare dependent on the women in some ways, those ways don’t seem important, mainlybecause the women seem interchangeable to them. They are dependant on the womenfor taking care of the kids and household duties, but beyond that there’s noconcern over who the women actually are, their dreams, their thoughts… Thusmaking them interchangeable.

Hmmmmm. What do you guys or gals think?

Here we go again... for real this time!

When I decided to start a blog this past spring, I was feeling pretty gung-ho about it.... Gung-ho meaning that I made a list of all the books, movies, TV shows, and other subjects I wanted to delve into from a feminist perspective. Then it kind of fizzled. Some of that is because my computer doesn't work and I'm at the mercy of my boyfriend to borrow is. Another part is that now I don't have wireless internet at my apartment. For whatever reason, the person whose network I've been using doesn't have it open to the public anymore. So selfish. :)

Anyway, I am going to try this again. I think I was also a little discouraged that I know people are super busy and if I don't have time to be writing a blog, my friends sure as heck probably don't have time to read it. But even if no one is reading I know these are topics that are very interesting to me, and are things I want to write about. So if you have time to read, awesome! If not, no worries. I will be learning either way. Of course I always appreciate input and thoughts from others, and love being challenged by you and your views, whether they align with mine or not.

Cheers!

First things first.....

I have decided to jump on the blogging bandwagon. This might be a total failure, a total waste of time, or it might be pretty sweet. Let's hope it's the latter. I have a few friends that have blogs, and when I thought about writing my own it didn't take me long to figure out what I wanted to write about. I have always been fascinated by the unique bonds women have with one another, what we think it means to be a "woman," what we value, what we long for, how we differ, how we're the same, etc.

A quote I have loved since my years at college is "Well-behaved women seldom make history." According to the internet it was coined by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, born in 1938, who was a professor at Harvard. I believe I first heard that quote in my Gender, Politics, and Law class. I was struck by what I heard it saying to me: screw sticking within the norm, forget doing what is expected.... live loudly, be yourself and fight for what is right. It felt like a great title and intro to my blog.

The issues I plan on delving into in this blog include exploring mediums such as books, TV, movies, ads, the media, etc, and exploring topics like spirituality, economics, sexuality, expectations, and discuss how all of those things affect women, how we see ourselves, how we're portrayed, how we live, how we love, how we thrive.

Thanks for being along for the ride. Please post, respond, and challenge myself and others so we can learn and grow together.

K