#there is no harm reduction at this point I’d argue even for the most privileged ppl who make these points

[moesartblog]

I’m gonna rant in the tags and then delete this but People on this site are starting once again to put WAY too much faith in the electoral college system

[kootenaygoon]

Eric Lawson looked like a frightened child.

A week earlier, around lunch-time on a Wednesday, the beleaguered publisher of a dozen Kootenay newspapers had brought my career at the Nelson Star to an abrupt close with two sentences. He didn't even ask me to sit down first.

"We've decided to take the paper in a new direction," he said. "Maybe we'll get the chance to work together again in the future."

I'd been prepared for this moment, had felt it coming for days, and had Eric fired me that lunch hour I would've been prepared with an arsenal of arguments for why it was a wrong-minded, short-sighted, bullshit decision. But this was a blindside I hadn't expected, like being dumped via text. It gave no room for dialogue, for human interaction -- it was like being expelled from a machine.

The way they put it: "you're being let go without cause".

Now, having arranged a meeting to sign my severance papers, I found myself pitying the dweebish frontman of our paper. He was sweating. He'd been brought into a toxic, chronically mismanaged workplace on the verge of mutiny and had been tasked with cleaning up the multi-year mess left by his sinister, incompetent predecessors Chuck and Karen Bennett -- not a job I would've signed up for.

"The first thing I want to do," I told Eric. "Is apologize to both you, and Bill, for the hideous position I put you in."

Our conflict had begun when my editor Bill Metcalfe deployed me to the funeral of an **-year-old woman named *****, a recent grad of *****, who had died from a suspected fentanyl overdose at the *****. Upon learning that I was there, the bereaved mother sent a bunch of screaming emails to my bosses, funneling her grief and rage in their direction. Now both Eric and Bill were scrambling to throw me under the bus, disavowing any knowledge or responsibility for my actions.

"I'm sorry," I said, words that were met with a tremulous nod.

Sitting across from Eric, I got the sense that he was afraid of me. I'm scary when I'm mad, and I'm sure he'd heard prior reports of my volatility -- especially when it comes to authority figures. Only a year earlier the Bennetts had banned me from their newly acquired coffee shop after I unleashed a tirade on Karen that scared the shit out of her. She hasn't spoken to me since.

But I wasn't there to be angry, I was there to put this whole situation to bed, if possible. My goal in meeting with Eric was to wrest a few more dollars out of him. A local lawyer had informed me that Black Press' severance offer was illegally low, and I was entitled to more. He also said it probably wasn't worth the fight, especially because I was broke now and in desperate need of cash.

"I was hoping you could appeal to someone higher up," I said. "Make them understand my particular situation, and how much work I've put into this paper."

I was just shy of four years at the Star at that point, and had stayed on out of respect for Bill Metcalfe, who had been forced into the editor role after cutbacks. Before that I was on the verge of quitting in solidarity with editor Colin McGarrigle, who had offered me work elsewhere, but I valued the team we'd created with Tyler Harper and figured there was more we could accomplish in the Nelson community. The role had absolutely consumed me, to the point that it was more like a basic life function. Like breathing.

"We can't offer you more money, unfortunately," Eric said, washing his hands of all responsibility. He told me this was Black Press policy and arguing would be fruitless. Repeatedly since arriving in Nelson he'd proven himself to be an empty suit, capable of speaking for minutes on end without saying anything of substance, so in a way I wasn't surprised.

At no point during the conversation did we actually discuss the events that led to my dismissal, and when I searched for answers about "why now?" he was tight-lipped, though we both knew there was a precipitating incident. Was the funeral the straw that broke the camel's back, or was there something more to this? Were they unhappy with my articles? With my workplace demeanor? I'd been fighting with Bill for weeks, and it seemed to me like he was becoming irritatingly fastidious about counting my hours -- a pet peeve of mine, since this job is essentially 24-7 and most of the real work takes place outside the office.

Did that have something to do with it?

Five days before my dismissal, on a Saturday afternoon that typically would've been my day off, I'd attended ******'s funeral following a phone tip that Bill passed on to me. As soon as I learned the woman's name, I looked her up on Facebook and learned we had 15 friends in common. I'd written a story about her graduation, which means I was in the crowd when she walked across the stage to receive her high school diploma.

The information hit me like a throat-punch.

"I can feel this in my body," I told Bill in the newsroom, but he didn't know what to say about that. I printed off her picture and posted it on the wall, though I learned later that Bill ripped it down. Something about my interest in this story annoyed him, and I don't know why. I repeatedly checked in with him during the process, calling him before and after the funeral, and then again when I stopped to talk to the Nelson Police Department afterwards.

At the funeral, I spoke to two people: ********, her godfather, and *********, her cousin. Both of them hugged me, thanked me for the condolences, and promised to get in touch if they wanted to. Bill and I had agreed ahead of time that it would only be a story if the family wanted a story, and I was careful to tell them both that I wasn't working on one -- I just wanted to make myself available, in case they wanted to reach out.

Sitting through the ceremony, I knew how hard this was hitting me when I started weeping uncontrollably during a Nickelback song. I recognized many of the ******** students who were there, wearing mismatching socks in ******'s honour, and I told them how devastated I was to learn about her death. Since their graduation, many of us had grown close. They had trusted me, repeatedly, to tell their stories.

That's a privilege I take very seriously.

"I'm going to continue to work as a journalist in this community," I told Eric, outlining some of my upcoming book projects and ambitions I've got going, including my Kootenay Goon blog, but I wasn't sure that was true. How could it be, when I was barely surviving from paycheck to paycheck and now had lost my job?

To receive the cash, Eric had me sign papers promising I wouldn't discuss their measly severance (which wouldn't last me to Christmas) or the circumstances surrounding my departure. In other words: Black Press felt confident they could purchase my silence for about two weeks' pay.

(In a follow-up Facebook post, I expressed my feelings about this thusly: "Fuck your shut up money, Nelson Star.")

I was too emotionally exhausted, and heartbroken, to keep fighting with Eric. And honestly, having had my first week off, I had already felt a great weight lift off my shoulders. I'd been overworked and over-stressed for too long, routinely working 6-day weeks while moonlighting as a bouncer. Finally getting a break was a huge relief, but I was still reeling from the greatest betrayal of all: neither Bill or Tyler had stood up for me, opting instead to hold on to their jobs while I got tossed under the bus. I received one pithy text message from Tyler, and I was told by Bill to stay away from the office.

It felt like being exiled.

While I sat crying in the interview room of the Nelson Police Department a few days later, meeting with Sgt. Brian Weber, I told him it wasn't Eric Lawson I had a problem with. Not really.

"He's in charge of about 12 papers," I said. "And he doesn't even really know me."

No, the real pain came from a particular phrase, shouted in my face by Bill: "What the fuck were you thinking?" I'd never seen him so mad, and now I can conjure up that moment almost involuntarily. I can hear the words, the way he said them, the way his face shook with uncharacteristic anger, echoing over and over again in my skull. I was confused, mostly, because he was failing to acknowledge that he was the one who sent me on this assignment in the first place. What had he been thinking? What did he think was going to happen?

"Do you think I did the wrong thing?" I asked Sgt. Weber. "By going to that funeral?"

"Oh, absolutely," he said. "We received a bunch of complaints about it. That was a bad move."

Driving back to Nelson on that Saturday, I'd stopped by the police department to talk to Sgt. Nate Holt. He was able to fill me in on *******’s background, on the fact she'd ******************** a few days earlier, and that there had been a ***** with her the night of her death that attends **************. It wasn't Holt's first fentanyl death, and it wouldn't be the last. He was the one who helped carry her out of **********, and I could tell just by how he was sitting in his chair that this experience had deeply impacted him.

He was furious.

"I feel like we've fed the community this harm reduction line, and it's just not working," he said. "It's all bullshit."

I asked him what he thought about the Star's coverage of fentanyl so far, and whether or not he thought it would be worthwhile to write about *****. His opinion was that it was a global epidemic, and he couldn't see what one story would really accomplish. He told me that the hardest thing, most times, is that there's nothing you can do.

"I don't know if I can deal with this, it's too much," I told Nate. "I need to go home and have a nap."

"You do that."

But while my working relationship with the police was solid, I was having trouble at home with Bill.

Our relationship had been breaking down for weeks. Though I respected him as a journalist and as a man, as an editor he had repeatedly failed and disappointed me -- at one point missing an obvious headline typo on one of my stories that made the entire staff look like J-school amateurs.

We'd butted heads over an earlier #metoo article, which he told me didn't have "teeth". When I came back with a much stronger story, featuring two women coming forward about their assaults, he was too busy to meet with them in person, though I specifically requested he be there. Every time I asked him for support or back-up, he balked like I was overstepping somehow.

More and more, it seemed to me like Bill was more interested in being a reporter than an editor, and he was becoming increasingly frustrated by how much of his time I was taking up. I thought I was producing meaningful journalism, while he was there stewing about what an inconvenience it was to have Will Johnson as an employee.

As I walked out of the office the day they dismissed me, I learned that the #metoo story was slated for the chopping block, despite the fact that we'd lawyered it up, edited it, and had killer art. It was 100 % ready to go. I told Bill I didn't care about my job or anything else, as long as that story ran.

"Eric doesn't think it would be appropriate to run after you've been let go," he said.

"These women went out on a significant limb for us," I told him. "Axing that story would be the worst possible outcome, you would literally be silencing sexual assault survivors."

Ultimately I published the story by myself, at home, while making a series of phone calls to everyone involved. I touched base with Selkirk College president Angus Graeme and pleaded with him to talk some sense into Eric, which it seems like he successfully did. The story ran, but in a move so petty it's almost comedic, they ran the stories without my byline or photo credit.

Everyone in the community noticed, but nobody was fooled.

"I'm going to sign these papers not because I think they're fair, but because I'm broke and I don't want to fight you," I told Eric.

"That being said, I want you to know I think this is a huge mistake."

He shrugged at me, a gesture that had become familiar over my many interactions with him. For instance, when I told him I was struggling with my mental health and needed counselling, that was the gesture he went with. Again, he washed his hands of all responsibility and said Black Press didn't have the budget to send me to a counselor. When Bill accompanied me to my desk to collect my things, he stopped me for a moment. He seemed overcome with emotion.

"I feel sick about this," he said.

"Of course you do."  

The Kootenay Goon

[missrosienorris]

The Election that is Bad, Part 3

CW: lots of politics, mentions of ableism, a hint of racism and abusive behaviour, also a little corona at the end

Statement of potential privileges and biases: Translucently white. Finnish, and thus less directly affected by US elections, although I’d argue the whole world should be concerned about them. AFAB enby. Probably a gray ace with no gender preference, but frankly I’m not quite sure wtf I am. Rather far left but haven’t found an appropriate ideological label. University educated. Middle class. Young-ish (is 30 still young?) My mental health is ass.

So, I’ve already made a few posts about the US presidential election and the shit it’s stirring up, which is why I’m now giving the series a name. In this post I’m going to lengthily bitch about some arguments between Biden and Sanders supporters that I’m currently seeing a lot, and I’m already planning another post that’ll be a more personal rant about how I’ve had to make a purge in my parasocial relationships because so so so many of the people I follow have morphed into dicks during this election season (or perhaps revealed themselves to be dicks, I can’t assess which one from afar).

In this post I won’t be discussing Biden or Sanders themselves or their policies all that much, but I will summarize where my allegiances lie here for the record, not that my opinion is likely to surprise anyone who’s read any of my stuff before:

I think Biden’s policies suck, albeit not as much as Trump’s but that’s a low bar to clear. I think he’s a neoliberal and a sleazeball, I don’t like his incoherent speaking style or his proneness to temper tantrums and were I American, I’m not sure I could bring myself to vote for him in the general even for harm reduction purposes (but to make it crystal clear, I would never vote Trump either, it would be third party or blank in that case). I think he will lose to Trump if he is the nominee.

I have a soft spot for Sanders despite being way to the left of him, he’s a socdem at best and I’ve never voted for a socdem in my life. However, in a US context, he would be a major step to the left, his policies are alright, and he’s way more coherent than Biden. Some people on the left flanks say he’s too nice and that’s probably true, socdems tend to be like that, but my lizard brain finds the niceness endearing even though I think it’s politically not ideal. I would vote for him in a heartbeat and I have given him money (funneled through a clothing vendor, so yeah I’m a foreign interference Russian bot). I think his chances to beat Trump would be better than Biden’s. Not great, mind you, Trump has quite an advantage going into the general and I’m not sure he’s beatable, although I sure hope he is.

Alright, now then, onto my long-ass rant about bad political arguments.

So, at the time I’m writing this, it sure looks like Biden will be the Democratic nominee, the race isn’t called yet but it’s looking pretty hopeless for the Sanders campaign. Consequently, the Bidenists are looking for everyone to rally around Biden and the Berners are pissed and/or discouraged and many of them are considering not voting or voting third party (and I guess some are considering voting Trump, but I genuinely think that group is real small and I’m ignoring them because fuck anyone who would do that).

Now, there are arguments for both of these stances that I find understandable. Like, I get the Bidenist argument that Trump is worse and therefore a vote for Biden is harm reduction, and I get the concern for the supreme court. I’m not convinced by these arguments, but I get them. On the flip side, I'm very sympathetic to the arguments that Biden is corrupt and awful, and that while Trump may be worse in the short term, voting for Biden will tell the Democratic party that they can keep putting up shitty status quo nominees and progressives will just take it, and thus the party won’t change and more people will be hurt by that in the long run. This is probably the position I’d take if I were in the US, as stated above.

Either way, these types of arguments from either side are pretty reasonable, but they’re not really the ones I’m hearing the most, at least not on the ol’ internet. What I’m hearing is a lot of crap, and I’m now going to list said crap and bitch about it.

1. Biden has dementia and keeping him in the race is elder abuse.

I want to get this real oof one out of the way first, because I drag Biden a bunch and will continue to do so, but this I don’t like. Yeah, the guy is incoherent when he speaks and lashes out a lot, but we shouldn’t be armchair diagnosing him or accusing anyone of abuse without proper evidence of that. I think it’s fair to criticize him for the way he behaves and to point out that Trump will definitely use that against him, but leave health assessments to professionals. Also, I get that a presidential candidate must be scrutinized more than the general public, but some of the stuff y'all are writing about people with cognitive disabilities is like super ableist and not cool. Don’t call people soup brains, for example, that’s trash behaviour.

2. Not voting in the general/voting third party is a vote for Trump.

Hey fuck off, no it’s fucking not. A vote for Trump is a vote for Trump. I get voting strategically, I really do, but the people who choose not to vote strategically are not voting for Trump. Doesn’t matter what the reason is, if you don’t vote for Trump you don’t vote for Trump and are not to blame for Trump. It’s unbelievably shitty to accuse people of being equal to Trump supporters if they don’t line up behind a particular other candidate.

3. Sanders supporters who won’t vote for Biden in the general are making that choice out of pettiness and/or childishness.

This is some ad hominem bullshit and also kinda contrary to the whole “unite the party behind Biden” thing, you don’t typically woo voters by calling them pissbabies. Especially young people don’t tend to respond well to frumpy people condescendingly telling them to grow up. Also it’s usually not true. Most people I know of that aren’t voting for Biden have well rounded reasons why, typically that they think voting for Biden would make things worse in the end. And unless someone tells you why they’re not voting for Biden, you don’t really know their reasons, so assuming “petty and childish” reflects more on you than it does on them.

4. Anyone who WOULD vote for Biden in the general is either a not a real progressive or a “low information” voter.

Shut up about that. Trump is a nightmare and many feel that four more years of him would be so disastrous that they’d rather take four years of Biden as the lesser of two evils. Being super scared of Trump and going the harm reduction route is not a sign that you’re uninformed or not progressive enough, I may disagree with it but not for that reason. The “low information” thing also seems to be directed at minorities a lot, which is kinda gross. Talk about voter suppression and try to reach out to people, absolutely, but sort of implying that minorities are ignorant is not a good look to have.

5. I was for Warren and now I’m for Biden because Sanders supporters are abusive.

I don’t have as strong an opinion on this one as the other ones, I just feel like it’s a super weird take to jump from supporting (relatively) progressive policies to supporting whatever it is Biden’s got going on because some of the Bernie crowd are kinda dicks (which I’m not denying by the way, I’ve seen them, I just feel like policy is more important). As I stated above, I’m not about to start accusing anyone of being a fake progressive or whatever, I’m just saying it’s a little weird and if there are any Warrenites out there who would like to explain it to me that would be swell. Preferably explain it civilly, since many of the #WarrenToBiden types I’ve seen have been surprisingly abusive themselves considering their stance on the whole Bernie bro thing.

6. Not voting for Biden in the general is a sign that you’re privileged and aren’t that affected by the vote, and that you don’t really care if minorities suffer another four years of Trump. Or the converse, voting for Biden in the general is a sign that you’re privileged and aren’t that affected by a continuation of the status quo, and that you don’t care if minorities suffer in the long run.

This argument can just fuck off whatever side it comes from. It’s another ad hominem attack and super reductive, both the people rallying behind Biden and the #NeverBiden people are a diverse bunch. Some are privileged, some are not, and this generalization helps no one. Especially cringe is when someone who is decidedly not part of a minority of any kind makes this argument, which I’m seeing A LOT of. I’m all for identity politics, but this ain’t it.

7. Sanders has said he will support Biden if Biden is the nominee, so you should too.

Why? Sanders isn’t flippin’ Jesus, it’s completely possible to support him and still disagree with him on occasion. I’m not quite satisfied with his explanations considering his record on guns, for example, nor do I think he should co-opt the term “democratic socialist” when he’s really just a socdem (although it is admittedly very funny to see conservative Americans freaking out over the mention of socialism). It’s not weird to not be a sycophant, personality cults are not a good thing.

You know, I’ll probably come up with like 100 more bad arguments I’ve seen floating around once i press the “Post” button, but it’s 3 AM and this post is already dragging even by my standards so maybe I’ll release another one of these at a later date. Until then, please wash your hands, stay safe if you belong to a risk group, and if you don’t belong to a risk group, don’t be a fuckface and hoard the supplies they need or endanger them by not following recommendations to limit the spread. I’ve had a probably-just-a-cold this week and you bet your ass I haven’t left my apartment even once just in case it wasn’t just a cold and I ended up murdering a grandma. Just don’t be pricks.

[pip-personalispolitical]

𝖋 𝖎 𝖑 𝖑 𝖊 𝖗   𝖖 𝖚 𝖊 𝖊 𝖓

I kind of always knew I’d get a lot of cosmetic procedures. To resist the trend of fillers seemed futile, but I swear I tried. I’d already gotten my teeth straightened and whitened (it took a God-awful amount of time) and had been to various clinics to check out their prices and procedures for breast augmentations and rhinoplasty. Fillers seemed very tame in moderation.

This is my choice, but that’s not to say this choice doesn’t come with certain implications. I’m not here to defend my choices regarding cosmetics, I’m here to explore the topic and be honest about what I’ve had done.

These unrealistic standards of beauty can only be dismantled if we’re honest about how they were achieved. I’m not saying that in stating my intention, all systematic bonds and structures of privilege are disintegrated and that all beauty standards are dropped, no, I just want to be honest. As I type this I know how problematic this is.

But, to me it’s like when some people in the fitness industry say they just workout and eat healthy, when the truth is they’re eating two meals a day, smoking instead of eating, and keying coke until 3am so they don’t deal with the calories of alcohol and their appetite is destroyed for the foreseeable future. I don’t have a problem with that - I just wish people were more honest about how those results were achieved.

So, if you didn’t already know, I have lip fillers. As of last Friday, I also have cheek fillers and fillers to erase my frown lines. And you know what? I feel fucking fabulous.

                                  Shame the devil and tell the truth.

When I first got my lips done, I walked into work with bruising and swelling - don’t get me wrong – it didn’t look cute. (In the beginning, I was too scared to ice it, so I took paracetamol and left it to settle. Now I know icing, in moderation, is fine and greatly reduces the swelling.)

My body quickly became a topic of interest, the change in my appearance propelled my body further into public discourse and served as a welcome mat of commentary. Initially, it was just my appearance that came into question. Not only were the questions rude but they were disrespectful; people’s assumptions were that my self-esteem was so low I felt I needed it (which, if that was the case how awful would that have made me feel?!).

“You don’t need it!” Yes, Barbara, I know. I wanted it.

People’s comments were hurtful, designed to keep me from pursing further work to ensure that their male gaze was considered precedent over my agency and their ideals of beauty were kept standardized.

“You look ridiculous” was common. “I don’t like it” was a close runner up. The implications of both were “I don’t find it attractive therefore it’s a waste of money”.

In my opinion, this was a highly narcissistic move; even when my body changed, in commenting on it and their distaste they still managed to make it about them. I wish I could say this was a rare occurrence. It’s funny how no one brings attention to my teeth whitening – perhaps that is exempt from beauty standards or was deemed necessarily by my peers. * Eye roll * Go figure.

In academic discourse, this is familiar ground. Non-male bodies are often considered part of the “public,” a specimen to be controlled, validated only by heteronormativity and the male gaze, critiqued to ensure their standard of beauty was, indeed, still standard.

Suddenly, I had more money than sense and my choices became a great concern of everyone else (because clearly it affected them so deeply and directly.) As if I hadn’t worked hard for my money and wasn’t highly informed on the procedure.

Yes, not only did my economic status come under scrutiny, but so did my intelligence and agency. It was like a highly-educated woman (I have a master’s degree TYVM) couldn’t undertake cosmetic surgery because that would invalidate both her intelligence and her choices. It was as if within fifteen minutes, as the fillers were injected into my lips, every single brain cell died and was replaced by images flickering from The Kardashians, to lip gloss, and high heels. It was almost as if the space where my cells previously lived became inhabited by glitter and cosmopolitans – my eyes glossed over and I became completely vapid – all of my previous education was erased and I was no longer a feminist.

As if. Though, I do thoroughly enjoy a good dose of glitter.

I think the idea that it wasn’t for the male gaze and was just something that I had wantedto try was incomprehensible, hardly anyone could wrap their heads around it. I can only speak for myself, so my choice to have fillers was because I see cosmetic surgery (as this isn’t particularly invasive) as I view make-up: to enhance beauty that is already there, or to create a little more beauty where you feel you’d like it. But, let’s be real, in this day and age most beauty is created. Dita Von Teese has said it time and time again.

Others may do it because they feel insecure, maybe they don’t. I can’t speak for them, but what I can say is that there is no shame in that. In a culture where non-male bodies are criticised for not looking like the common standard of beauty and then in the same breath chastised for trying to obtain that (through, I don’t know, cosmetic surgery for example) there is no shame in pursuing your ideal of beauty. Jillian Michaels often comments that there is no shame in having a little vanity – what is so wrong in taking pride in your appearance? The trendy, counter-culture cynicism against vanity, selfies, avocados and vintage clothing is just that: trendy. It’s the flipside of the same culture, it’s not exactly original.  

                                              Feminism and fillers?

When feminism has become such a trendy topic of the last year and empowerment is a buzzword swung around on a rope called capitalism and commodity culture, where is the line between agency and a larger, systematic problem drawn?

In this particular time when choices are lauded as empowering, we must be aware of both the muted conversation surrounding objectification of non-male bodies, as well as the distressing similarity between “celebrating creative agency and denying systematic patterns,”[1]Quite simply, the correlation between womanhood and the desire for beauty has “long been upheld by patriarchal discourses” that resigns them to objects to be viewed, enjoyed and consumed[2].The most recent wave of feminism, whatever you want to call it (maybe even post-feminism) is lauding physical transformation as empowering [3].

That being said, condemning individuals for their choices in a culture they haven’t shaped is also harmful, “even if those decisions are ones we regard as medically unnecessary and politically distasteful,” (Angela Nuesatta.)[4]In this sense, this point adds to a complex, nuanced argument surrounding cosmetics and the non-male body. If these procedures aren’t at one with beauty standards or heteronormative desire, does it make them any more or less on par with feminism and agency?

So, let’s really get into it. I have A LOT of privilege. I’m white, I’m able-bodied, I’m a cisgender woman; these privileges grant me opportunities, whereas others who don’t have those privilege might not (and often don’t.)

More to the point, some argue that being attractive is a form of privilege; research confirms that “attractiveness” creates more opportunities, romantically and economically[5].

I wouldn’t say I’ve necessarily had more success in either of those departments after my filler-fun run, but I have felt more confident. It’s not like I didn’t like the way I looked before – in fact the one thing I’m most insecure about I haven’t undertaken, yet (it’s my nose, I dislike how large it is) – I just enjoy how different I look now. One to me is not better than the other. I don’t feel as though I need these procedures, but I want them, I enjoy their results. Just as much as I enjoyed my face before.

The problem, of course, is that as a white, cisgender, able-bodied woman I am upholding beauty standards that can be reductive. Again, I can only speak for myself and I understand that this is problematic behaviour for those reasons and more.  

When I align myself with the third-wave, reclaimational feminist politics[6], myembrace of the femme would mean something completely different than to someone with another positionality. Therefore, it can greatly impact the notion of reclaimational third wave feminism.

Here is where I must acknowledge that the master’s tools will never dismantle the masters house. And I can survive in the master’s house; people who don’t look like me or have my privileges may not.

          Oh my god, you have to give me the name of your surgeon!  

In this particular time, these procedures have become so much more accessible. Nipping in to get your lips done has become the millennial equivalent of popping out for a nail appointment. The procedures that were once only for the rich and famous have become readily available for the everyday, 9-5 worker[7]. In this sense, it gives access and more options to those who may be striving for a visual image that matches their identity. The cost for some maybe off putting or unachievable altogether.

Knowing that I wanted these treatments, I saved up over a few months. Because these fillers last a good 7-9 months, I didn’t necessarily need a top up...but I wanted them. Thinking about it, it wasn’t exactly an extortionate amount of money...to me. My privilege is showing, isn’t it?

My practitioner is Katie Allen. She owns her own company called Alien Aesthetics and if you are looking for work I highly recommend her. Katie has always been welcoming, kind and informative every time I’ve seen her; she has two degrees under her belt and holds down a nursing job at the same time. Balancing the two is no easy feat.

Katie is highly successful, firstly, because she’s amazing at her job, and secondly, because her work ethic is unparalleled. Working with her Mom, Julie and predominantly alongside other women, Katie often stresses the importance of supporting one another in business. Her prices are more than reasonable and she frequently posts cheaper alternatives as part of a modelling deal or prize draw, rewarding her followers and regulars.

The first time I got my lips done, she talked me through everything, the procedure, the aftercare and where to reach her if I needed anything. We started small, 0.5mil. Before each injection she asked me if I was ready, and kept me up to date on where we were during my treatment. She continues to do this even as I approach my 7thor 8thappointment.  

Always checking what look I’d like to achieve, we’ll chat, I’ll show her picture references and when I’m frozen, mid-procedure she’ll ask if I’m okay. I’ll try and mumble something that sounds affirmative.  

After the numbing cream, it’s not exactly painless but what I’d call uncomfortable. Personally, as long as I don’t look at the needle, I’m fine. It usually takes 15 minutes to sink in and you feel like a bit of a boob sat there with white stuff plastered around your mouth (we’ve all been there, amirite ladies?) But to Katie, it’s second nature, she doesn’t bat and eyelid.

My cheek fillers were a little different, it felt like a liquid pressure was spreading onto my cheek bones. It didn’t hurt, it was initially uncomfortable but soon settled down. They’re still a little sore but look absolutely amazing and, as Katie said, create a more structured, lifted image. She also said they’d look better in two weeks, when the swelling completely settled. If it only gets better I can wait to see what it’s going to look like in two weeks – I already adore them.

I hope I’ve addressed some questions that some of you might have about it. But Katie, obviously, is the person to approach when it comes to these procedures. Pixie is the current admin of their Instagram page and is just as friendly and informative as Katie. (Don’t worry, I gotchu, her company is tagged in this post and will be linked at the bottom.)

I know I don’t have all the answers or the perspectives, I just wanted to share my experience. I don’t mind people asking me questions about the procedures, how I felt, what the process is like, who I go to. I do mind invasive and rude questions that place my self-esteem as frail and my now altered look as unattractive. Because that is invasive and rude, who raised you?

I enjoy the look fillers give me, and, why wouldn’t I? I curated it. So, I’ll say it, I’m a filler queen. I enjoy my treatments and love the results, I don’t see myself stopping them anytime soon and will more than likely begin to explore more invasive procedures (hello, new nose). But, until then, I’ll revel in my swollen cheekbones and lips.

References 

[1](Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body: Bordo.)

[2](Under the Knife: Feminism and Cosmetic Surgery in Contemporary Culture: Stephanie Genz)

[3](Television and The Domestication of Cosmetic Surgery: Sue Tait)

[4].” (The Guardian: I’m A Feminist and I’ve had cosmetic surgey. Why is that a problem? Angela Nuesatter)

[5]economically (The Guardian: I’m A Feminist and I’ve had cosmetic surgey. Why is that a problem? Angela Nuesatter).

[6](HarpersBazaar: Is Teenage Plastic Surgery a Feminist Act? Kathleen Hale)

[7](Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body: Bordo.)