#only mad about the things that concern her not the thousands of womens athletes who are missing or have lost their lives

[uncloseted]

https://youtu.be/kJcpTSNWXdQ

https://youtu.be/yIZ8zUOXh2g

Can you watch these when you have the time? Im curious about your opinion on this because I think youre really smart and these are some topics rhats been on my mind lately! Thnk you so much ❤️❤️

Okay, so there’s a lot here.  I feel like I should admit upfront that I dislike Joe Rogan.  I won’t really dig into why because you didn’t ask for that, but I will say that if you want to listen to someone wax philosophical, I feel like it should be someone who was actually a philosopher (like Contrapoints or PhilosophyTube) instead of UFC commentator and former host of Fear Factor, Joe Rogan.  Anyway, let’s dig into these videos…. 

The first one is called “Unattainable Beauty Standard Outrage” and it’s with stand-up comedian Bill Burr.  Frankly, I find it to be frustrating because they’re both average looking white men complaining about an issue that they’re really not subject to in any meaningful way.  Throughout this video, they conflate a lot of different issues-  the beauty standards average men and women are held to, the (edited) beauty standards present in advertisements, and the physical requirements actors and actresses are held to are all the same in this conversation.  They make them seem like it’s all the same when in reality that’s just…. three different conversations completely.  I think that’s a result of the fact that they’re just kind of talking, not making an argument or even really trying to get to a point.

Let’s start out with what they’re saying about the beauty standards that average people are held to.  Basically, their point is that if you cared about how you looked, you can compensate for it in other ways. The point here boils down to “ugly people won’t take the time to develop a personality like the rest of us, and they’re mad that they get treated differently.”  But the reality is that you can have a great personality, but discrimination based on physical appearance will still exist.  Similar to how discrimination based on sexuality isn’t cancelled out by white privilege or discrimination based on race isn’t cancelled out by being male, discrimination based on appearance isn’t cancelled out by having a winning personality.  Ugly people earn less than their attractive counterparts, on average have fewer friends, worse social skills, and less active sex lives, and are seen as less moral, trustworthy, and competent.  Women have it even worse; while men are able to compensate for their looks somewhat (and there are more “acceptable” looks that a man can have) through factors like wealth, social capital, and personality, women are taught from a young age that being attractive is the most important thing that they can be.  Because of that, women suffer more from looks-based discrimination than men do and are more impacted every time the standard for female beauty gets raised.

Moving on, they start complaining that the UK is banning advertisements that feature impossible standards of beauty.  To my knowledge, it’s actually only the London underground that did this, and I believe it specifically concerned advertisements that are digitally altered but selling a beauty product (correct me if I’m wrong here).  Specifically in this episode, they’re talking about products that promise you a “summer body” with a digitally altered image of a bikini model.   It’s false advertising when you show an edited model who supposedly got their body by using your product- and that should be illegal.  False advertising is illegal in lots of other realms.  You’re not allowed to claim that your dietary supplement will cure cancer, and you shouldn’t be able to claim that your “summer body” product will make you look like a digitally altered model.  Joe and Bill comment that people are being overly sensitive, and that these advertisements just make them “want to go to the gym”, but that misses the point completely.  Even if you went to the gym, there’s still tens of thousands of dollars of cosmetic surgeries and digital alterations that went into making that model look like that.  It’s not about work.  Those bodies aren’t achievable with work- the models themselves, who work out for hours a day and follow very strict diets, don’t look like that in real life either.  Pretending that those images are achievable through “hard work” is actually really damaging.  It can lead to people engaging in dangerous diets and exercise regimens, taking untested supplements, and feeling that their lack of results is a moral failing because they’re not “working hard enough” (which decreases self esteem).

Then they start talking about actors and actresses who are asked to lose weight for movies, and one actress in particular who publicly complained that she was asked to lose 15 pounds for a role.  Their takeaway is that the actress who complained is being lazy, that she was hired to be hot, and that she’s being ungrateful for the opportunity.  A quick fact check suggests that the person they’re talking about is Jennifer Lawrence, who said she “was told by producers of a film to lose 15 pounds in two weeks."  That’s a very different story to the one that they’re telling.  To lose 15 pounds in two weeks, 5′9, 140 pound Jennifer Lawrence would have had to burn 52,500 calories.  Even if she ate absolutely nothing and worked out at the level of an Olympic athlete 7 days a week, she would still have only burned 39,354 calories in two weeks.  That’s still 3.75 pounds short of 15 pounds of weight loss.  It was literally an impossible ask.  Upon telling the producer that she thought the weight loss demands were not appropriate, “he said he didn’t know why everyone thought I was so fat, he thought I was ‘perfectly fuckable.'”  And so to paint it as Jennifer Lawrence being lazy is a bit disingenuous.  But I’m willing to accept that maybe they just didn’t have that context, because it seems like their goal wasn’t actually to have a discussion based in research or argumentation- it’s to make the point that people are overly sensitive now and asking the world to cater to them.

Closing this conversation out, I don’t think it’s wrong for studios to ask actors to change their appearance for a role.  A big part of why people get cast for particular roles is their appearance, and as an actor, you have to be willing to adapt your appearance for the role. Just like you may be asked to dye your hair or wear colored contacts, I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong to ask an actor to gain or lose weight for a role (especially since both men and women are asked to do that, and the studio provides them with the support to be able to do that safely).  Those bodies are achievable with work, and I don’t think it’s wrong to show those.  But I think there’s a larger conversation to be had about who’s being asked to change their weight and why.  Christian Bale lost 62 pounds for The Machinist because his character was supposed to be emaciated from his insomnia.  The studio didn’t ask Bale to do that.  He made the decision to do it on his own, even though it made sense for his character to be that thin.  By contrast, Jennifer Lawrence was asked by the studio to lose 15 pounds to... what?  Look hotter in the movie?  Almost every female actress is expected to look a certain way in order to even be considered for a role, whereas men can be fat, mediocre looking, older, balding, and still be cast.  Even when a woman is playing a role where being hot isn’t part of the narrative at all, she’s still expected to be hot.  Even when you’re playing a character that’s “let themself go” or has “hit rock bottom”, the actress needs to look hot.  For men, there’s not that same requirement.  Having hot girls in your movie absolutely do get more people to see it, sure, but the cost is that you’re reinforcing the idea that women must be, above else, hot all the time.

So that’s that.  Let’s move on to the second video,  “No, It's Not "All Men"”, featuring comedian Iliza Shlesinger.  I should say that I like Iliza quite a bit and I’ve seen her perform, so I’m curious to see where this goes.  It’s also important to note they’ve been smoking weed, which... provides some context to this episode, I think.

So again, they start by bitching about this “beach body ready” ad that got “pulled in the UK” (actually just from the London underground) that Joe is so up in arms about.  This time he shows the ad, and it turns out that it was pulled due to “concerns about a range of health and weight loss claims made in the ad”.  The concern is false advertising.  So again, to paint it as, “ugly women are too sensitive because some women are actually beautiful” is disingenuous, and serving the narrative that “people these days are too sensitive”.  They’re also making the assumption that this ad hasn’t been digitally altered, which I find difficult to believe.  

Iliza goes on to talk about how her boobs are real and some people ask her if they’re fake, and she doesn’t like that, and how women shouldn’t judge other women to their faces about how fake they perceive them to be.  I think that’s a fine claim to make on an interpersonal level, but I also think that if we don’t start acknowledging all of the manipulation and work that goes into appearing “effortlessly beautiful”, we’re going to fall deeper into this beauty standard arms race.  Iliza kind of gets a pass on this because she openly admits to having a “fake nose”.  Then she makes a good point about how women will be hated no matter what they do, and so it’s important to remember that when someone doesn’t like you, it typically has more to do with them than it does with you.  She also says that when you don’t like someone, it’s important to do some introspection to figure out where that’s coming from, which is also great advice.  Then they wander into talking about how feminism doesn’t mean that you like women more than men or that you’re asking for special treatment, just that you support the idea of equality, and that’s fine. Joe rogan praises Iliza for being “a feminist, but not annoying”, which is gross.

Iliza then says that feminists who say, “all men” are part of the problem, and I think she’s just missing the point.  When feminists say, “yes, all men”, what they mean is that all men are benefiting from male privilege, regardless of the actions that they’re taking (or not) to better that situation.  People in positions of privilege have to acknowledge that privilege in order to be able to better the situation, and by separating yourself out as “not one of those men”, you’re saying “it’s not my problem because I’m one of the good ones, so I don’t have to think about myself critically or alter my behavior in any way.”  That said, I think Iliza is right that that stance can be taken too far and serve to alienate the men who are allies in the feminist fight for equality.  

Then, Iliza equates the phrases “all men are bad” and “all women are sluts”.  I think this is a bad take; “all men are bad” is a generalization made by a marginalized group about a powerful group that they’ve been victimized by.  Every woman I know has had some type of intimidating, frightening, dangerous, humiliating, or dehumanizing experience with a man during their lifetime.  “All women are sluts” is a powerful group insulting a group that they marginalize, with the intention of controlling that group’s actions (by making them feel ashamed of being “slutty” they’ll stop being “sluts).  “Slut” is also particularly charged in this scenario, because it centers maleness.  What is a slut?  A slut is (usually) a woman who sleeps with men but who won’t sleep with the man calling her a slut.  Which, coming full circle, is why some women say “all men are bad”.  

I get their larger point that generalizations are rarely helpful, but again, they’re making this false equivalency between a political slogan (”all men”), a gendered insult (“all women are sluts”), and random, unhelpful advice, (”women want you to slow down in the bedroom”).  In the first case, the generalization serves a purpose- it’s to let men know that they’re not exempt because they’re a “good guy”.  In the second case, it’s an insult that contributes to a gendered power structure.  In the third case, it’s just shorthand for “the majority of women that we’ve surveyed” because repeating that phrase over and over again will take away from the point they’re trying to make (that maybe you could be better in bed by listening to the sluts, Joe).

All in all, I like this one better than the first one, but Joe Rogan hasn’t grown on me over the course of watching these videos.

[textsfromumbridge]

In a crowd of thousands (JxB)

AN: I don’t think I’ve ever written anything for those two. Not that I’ve finished anyway. But after reading through so many fics on AO3, I just had to. That and the Anastasia soundtrack reminded me of how I’d bang Dimitry like a screen door in a hurricane. WHOOPS?!

... 

Brienne of Tarth had no problems going unnoticed - in fact, she really did prefer it. Anyone who noticed her would only point and laugh - there was always laughter when the audience finally noticed that she was actually a woman. 

She was aware of her unfortunate looks, and she’d learned to accept them. She knew her height made it even more impossible for her to stay unnoticed, was aware that her figure was not particularly womanly. But she was also aware that her lips, although chapped, were full and kissable, and that her clear blue eyes reminded of the ocean hitting the coast of her homeland. 

Her self esteem had been difficult to gain, but she’d grown with every perfectly spiked ball, with every compliment from her coach, and with every perfect grade keeping her on her scholarship. 

Still, those things also made her stand out, and led to unfortunate nights such as this one, attending a gala for King’s Landing’s best college athletes with the other girls. Their coach, the incomparable Catelyn Stark, had made them, reminding them to behave because “opportunities like these come along so rarely for women’s sports”. 

Sansa, the coach’s daughter and their libero, had nodded before pleading with Brienne to please let her and Margaery (their flirtatious setter) do something about her Look. Yes, the capital L had been audible even then. 

And that was how Brienne had come to wear a gleaming gold dress that, while accentuating her long muscled legs, made her afraid to bend over for fear of being even more noticeable than she already was. 

Wearing GOLD, at a party in King’s Landing? When one wasn’t associated with the Lannisters, it was sure to get one noticed. At least, according to Margaery, who kept up with the Kettleblacks and the Lannisters and everyone in between. Brienne? Not so much. Not at all. 

“It must be!” an excited voice behind her. “Who else is that tall?” 

Oh no. Oh no. She did not expect the mocking to begin just minutes after she walked into the expensively decorated ballroom. 

“Brienne of Tarth,” the smirk was almost audible. “I would recognize you anywhere.” 

First, she took a deep breath. Sure, the voice sounded vaguely familiar, but since she could not place it, it could just as easily be a Red Ron (high school nightmare) instead of a Renly (high school crush). She had to be prepared for the mocking, even though she actually felt kind of pretty in this getup. 

The man was beautiful - there was no other word for him. He wore his dark grey suit well, his hair longer than was fashion, but it suited him somehow. His facial hair somewhere between just scruff and a beard, mouth pulled into a smirk that reminded her of times long forgotten, when Mother and Galladon... No. 

“Even in a crowd of thousands, I’d know those eyes,” the man did not seem to see her confusion. 

He lifted her bodily - he was just a few inches shorter than she was in her heels - and twirled her around the crowded room, roaring with laughter all the while. 

“That used to be much easier,” he put her down, barely breaking a sweat. “I guess you were right about me being old.” 

Even now there was something in her that wanted to laugh along, to remember a joke long gone from memory. Another part of her was just concerned about how many people had been able to look under her skirt as he twirled her like a child, and a third part of her was still stuck on how solid he had felt, so close to her. 

“You,” she stammered, trying desperately to connect the dots with her brain still so frazzled. “Old man?” 

Another laugh - how was it that he was so happy to see her and she still had no inkling of who this man was? She had met him before, she could feel that. But how, when and where? There was just nothing. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all about me,” he pressed a hand against his chest, feigning pain. “All those summers in your palace by the sea? Surely you are still as smart as ever, my lady knight.” 

Oh! It all hit her in a flash, the teenage boy chasing her with a plastic sword, her giggles as she tried to keep up with a young man eight years her senior. 

“Kingslayer,” she happily exclaimed, the old nickname coming to her lips too easily after years without it. 

He had fought the mad King and freed her so they could fight together, so they could save the innocent. He was the only one who indulged her love of sword fights and heroic tales - he didn’t even mind being saddled with this kid when he could be out with people his own age. 

“Brienne the Beauty,” he bowed. 

It still looked so regal, as if his father’s tales of them being descended from royalty had actual merit to it. Her responding curtsey was much less fluid - she hadn’t done this in a decade, ever since The Accident, when his father had forbidden him from returning. God forbid something would happen to his precious favorite son. 

“Jaime,” she leapt at him, and he caught her as always. 

“I always wondered where you’d end up,” he spoke, voice low and tickling her ear. “I hoped I’d find you here. You were always better than anyone else on the Island, in this city.” 

Wrapped around him, she was fully aware that it was probably unseemly that she had pressed herself against Jaime Lannister. But it had been ten years at least since she’d last seen him, half a world away on Tarth. 

“I have missed you,” she said the words and realized just how very true they were. 

“No other knights willing to fight for you?” Jaime was still teasing her, much as he used to once upon a time. 

There were no more knights left on the island after he left, no true knights in the Stormlands where she’d gone to high school, and no knights in King’s Landing until now. Not like her childhood friend and idol. 

“No one like you,” the admission came so easily. 

“There are no men like me,” he boasted, the words familiar as an old song she used to know. “Only me.” 

She huffed like she used to, rolling her eyes at his words while she knew they were truth. He had his flaws, even as a child she’d known that, but he’d never looked down on her even though he could have done so very easily. He’d been so very dear to her then, and his response to seeing her again after all this time told her that he’d held her in his heart all this time as well. 

“By the Gods, this dress,” Jaime took her in, eyes dark. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to the poor athletes tonight?” 

Sure, it was a jape, but certainly not at her expense. 

“What you’re doing to me?” he continued. “I’m just an old man, Brienne. Have mercy on me.” 

The look on his face was new - she’d seen it directed at Margaery from a whole host of boys, seen it sent in Sansa’s direction until Brienne had scared them off, but she had never seen someone look at her like this. And now someone was, and it was Jaime. Vain, proud, stubborn, insecure Jaime, who was never sure if he had friends because of his family and wealth, or because of the hero lurking underneath. 

“I’m sure you can handle it,” she brushed it off, smiling all the while. 

His hand has made its way around her waist again, and for a brief moment she remembered the summer he’d broken his wrist so badly the doctors had worried about him ever using it normally again. But the vision from the past was brief - they were adults now. Jaime seemed ever so aware that she was all grown up now, old enough to purchase her own mead or wine. 

Not that alcohol appeared to be on his mind when he looked at her. 

“You made a friend,” Sansa disturbed the electric current running between Jaime’s eyes and whatever part of Brienne’s body they could reach. “I was worried you’d snuck out and left us!” 

Jaime’s response to the intrusion was to pull her even closer to his side, reluctant to share her with anyone after all the time spent apart. 

“Jaime’s an old friend,” she almost winced at how similar she sounded to some vapid socialite. “He used to visit me on Tarth every summer.” 

Sansa knew the stories, had idealized and romanticized them all until it led to some magical, enchanting reunion that in turn led to a happily ever after. It was why her friend’s eyes were wide and almost teary. 

“Sir Jaime,” Sansa smiled tearfully. “I’m so glad you found each other again, after all this time.” 

There was swooning in Sansa’s future, and Brienne was happy to let her friend have those fantasies. In her worst moments, after the bet, she’d dreamed that Jaime would return to set everyone straight and to sweep her off her feet. She couldn’t blame Sansa for doing the same. 

“Have you been telling your friends about me, Brienne?” Jaime practically purred, and she shivered. 

He appeared pleased at the effect he had on her, and that lit the flame of competitiveness that had gotten her in so much trouble as a child. She was not going to let him pretend he was not all that affected by her in return. 

“Sansa, please excuse us,” Brienne smiled to make the message seem kinder. “It seems I have to curtail the old man’s little fantasies.” 

Her words would not offend Jaime - but he was ready to rise to the bait, muttering under his breath about how there was nothing little about any part of his fantasies. It made her flush all over, still getting used to this new awareness of him that seemed to exist inside her. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Sansa, ever polite, chirped before she ran off in Margaery’s direction for a good gossip session. 

She’d be hearing about this for the next few years, she was sure of that. She was also sure that she wouldn’t mind it at all. 

“I dreamed of you,” Jaime pulled her close again, whispering the inappropriate words in her ear. “And I will dream of you in this dress.” 

Oh, she had to learn to grow immune to his words, to his voice, or she’d be blushing for the rest of her life. If only she would be around him often enough to be flushed red for the rest of her days. 

“Dance with me?” he pleaded, unwilling to let her go. 

“Don’t step on my toes,” she teased, remembering footwork exercises gone awry. 

Not even Jaime Lannister was graceful all of the time - but he was ever so graceful now. 

“I wouldn’t dare, my lady,” he led her onto the dance floor and held on tight as the one-two-three of the waltz began. 

They would not get lost in the crowd, they stood out too much. And as a thousand people mixed and mingled, theirs was a perfect beginning.