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I'd love to see feminists placing women in the role of "default human" from now on as a way of centering them, using feminine pronouns when speaking of people generally. Men have done this for themselves for more than long enough. I want to take maleness out of our language as much as possible, at least in English.

"To each their own" >>> "To each her own"

"Every person should be able to do what he wants" >>> "Every person should be able to do what she wants"

"God in His infinite wisdom..." >>> "God in Her infinite wisdom..."

Etc.

Just speak from the female experience as much as possible. Wash maleness out of your speech, and you'll wash it gradually out of your way of thinking.

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vintage dyke pins ⚢

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For anyone who needs to hear this: being attractive ("to men" is the part that isn't said out loud) is NEVER going to make you happy! Truly, never. Being "hot" is not going to fill your soul. Trends and standards will always change, and rapidly. Your pleasure in it will always be superficial. You will drain away your money at Ulta, at the salon, at the cosmetic surgery center, at the clothing and accessory stores that are popular this month. You will endure blistered feet and razor burn and soreness and itchy clothing that sticks to your skin every time you walk outside and it's above 70 degrees. You will not be able to live in the moment because you are too busy checking the mirror, pinching your natural healthy fat, wondering if they can see this or that "flaw" on your face or body, touching up your hair, reapplying makeup, adjusting your clothing so it sits *just so* and doesn't reveal that there is a real, natural, human body underneath.

None of this will bring you happiness. Being desired, even just blending in, is a pitiful reward for so high a price - financially, mentally, spiritually, physically, and emotionally. Have you ever added up the money you spend on your appearance each year? Each month? How many wonderful outings and hobbies could you have if you set aside the eyeliner and the brand name lingerie and the razor and the 17 skincare products you have (but no man does). How much mental and emotional energy and freedom might you have if you never thought about your appearance in daily life, as unconcerned with how "hot" you are as when you were a child? How much more present would you be with those you love when you are entirely focused on existing with them rather than whether they have noticed the way your stomach looks in this outfit?

This is among the most liberating feelings I have ever known, if not the most. I had spent so many years brainwashed and trained like a show animal to groom myself into a beautiful doll. Whether I told myself it was for approval or just "for myself" made no difference on the impact it had. I was conditioned to see a ghoulish alien creature in the mirror when the layers of makeup and flattering, constricting, merciless clothes were stripped away, my own face - my FACE, the first thing that tells a stranger who I am, the face only I have - a "problem" to be constantly tinkered with and never solved. I could not, would not dare to conceive of abandoning these costly crutches. Certainly, there is nothing worse than ugly, is there not? Surely I will fade away into an unlovable irrelevant pariah if I go outside with my natural body hair in shorts on a 95 degree day, forsaking makeup to permit my skin to breathe.

For a long time, I was not even conscious that I felt that way. I was unaware of my fears, telling myself comforting lies about my choices being utterly my own and uninformed by the world in which I live. It was hard to accept that these were lies; as I said, they brought comfort. It was harder still to choose to leave my home bare-faced, hairy, and comfortably dressed at whatever size my body likes to naturally be. It was not something I felt like I wanted to do "for myself" as my beauty rituals had allegedly become, but something I had come to realize I had to try for the sake of my health, self love, and well-being in all areas.

Much like adapting to drastic life changes to cut short the progress of a disease, these changes were initially painful and undesirable, but they were entirely worth it. Some time later, my face became me, a vessel for communication and expression of my emotions, rather than a canvas on which to stuff full my pores and suffocate my skin. My body shape and its fat became neutral things I tend not to consider at all unless choosing a size in clothing - no more of this constant distress and self-monitoring. My comfort has increased as I abandon the chafing and tight straps and sucking in my stomach and tweezing and shaving in favor of comfortable, flexible, weather appropriate clothes and the body and face born to me. My truly debilitating hatred of my nose evaporated entirely over time; where I used to cling to my covid masks and contouring and consulting with plastic surgeons, I now have only my sniffer. It does what it's meant to well enough, and that's as much as it crosses my mind.

Body positivity and loving how you look may feel like an impossible ideal. Part of that is social conditioning, but another part is that it's an illogical goal. Did you love your body and face as a child? Or were you simply blissfully unaware of the idea that how you are shaped might matter? In all my years of playing the beauty game to varying degrees, I had tried body positivity/love several times, typically with no result at all, but occasionally even with a backfire. Body neutrality was much more realistic and sensible, and more attainable as well. I believe it to be healthier. There will always be a problem if we are committing much of our focus, attention, and energy to our appearances, whether it be to hate them or adore them. It is by definition self-centered.

On the other hand, body neutrality has delivered me the freedom to do whatever fun activity I want without worrying about whether I'll mess up my hair or makeup, or whether I'm wearing the right shoes or if my clothing is too constricting or revealing for said activity. If I should want to climb a tall and beautiful tree, I will not be concerned with an upskirt peeker or what to do with my heels. Most importantly, though, I have noticed drastic changes in my life I did not expect. I have become much more even-keeled and internally at peace overall, not just about my looks. I have noticed myself engaging much less with my phone and much, much, much more with the people around me. I am far more focused on and attentive to others, more equipped to be present in shared moments. I am never looking for a stopping point in a poignant conversation so I can excuse myself to the restroom and adjust my concealer.

My favorite part is that I am so deeply connected with myself in a way I had believed impossible. I am entirely me - not a mind in a body, but a mind and body as one. I do not wear my body like a suit which must be measured and altered; I am my body, and my body is me, and I am suddenly in love with being vividly alive.

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i think the part of a room of one's own i think about the most is the description of charlotte brontë's anger seeping into her work.

"it is clear that anger was tampering with the integrity of Charlotte Brontë the novelist. She left her story, to which her entire devotion was due, to attend to some personal grievance. She remembered that she had been starved of her proper due of experience--she had been made to stagnate in a parsonage mending stockings when she wanted to wander free over the world. Her imagination swerved from indignation and we feel it swerve."

like. gd. me too.

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i wonder if part of the trad-wave is about being the first generation growing up more or less entirely with working mothers (as we know the concept), i.e. post the 'traditional' nuclear family.

this idea these people are perpetuating isn't that of someone who grew up seeing these family dynamics - it's of a distant ideal. they didn't grow up with miserable homemaker mothers, so they lack the perspective of the downsides and the hard work. they're literally only seeing the idealised post war images.

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Olga Suvorova (Russian,b.1966)

Untitled

Oil on canvas

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anyway I love things like having independence, being intelligent, taking pride in my skills, not feigning incompetence, referring to myself as a woman instead of a girl, aging unapologetically, having pores, stretch marks, grey hairs, wrinkles and body fat, listening to my body's needs, eating as much as I need to satisfy my hunger, being bare-faced, wearing comfortable clothes, etcetera

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whoever came with the big titty goth shit should be executed by firing squad and thrown in a ditch. same with the mommy whatever shit for muscular women. and also whatever the fuck that 5’2 latina shit was

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Misogynists HATE her! Local woman is woman

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sorry i do think it's pretty funny that men for thousands of years were like "women just aren't very smart... :( their poor brains can't handle real education" and now women are doing better than men in all levels of schooling to the point where it's some kind of crisis that boys don't learn good... sucks to suck

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never forget the name of our sister Varisheh Moradi, a Kurdish women’s rights activist who was just sentenced to death by the regime in Iran‼️‼️

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'what are you straight guy traits' i dont have any. all my traits are dyke traits. goes double for the things about me that men think belong to them.

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“The sound of water says what I think.” ~ Chuang Tzu (Chinese philosopher, 369 BC-286 BC)

The Child Talks to the Drops of Water ~ 1913 ~ Frank Cheyne Papé (English artist, 1878-1972) ~ in “The Story Without an End”, adapted by Sarah Austin from the work by Friedrich Wilhelm Carové  

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Furniture makers at work. The business is solely owned and operated by women. Tradeswomen Magazine

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wait omg does tumblr think i'm like a dyke or something?1? wowww