#what happened to feminism... why am i seeing a man who works as a plastic surgeon

[mishkakagehishka]

"We're old moms, we can't wait to stop breastfeeding so we can get [very excited, shrill even] botooooox!!!"

We are never making it out of the patriarchy.

[wholeanimal]

Quietly Shitty Men

“There is a specific type of person who will siphon the gas right from you because they’ve never learned how to shine their own light.” My ex is engaged.  That shouldn’t bother me, should it?  Oh, but it does.  It bothers me because I saw it coming.  Tell me, what makes a woman “crazy”? Is it when she follows her own instincts? Or is it when she suppresses them? Is she crazy for sensing something is wrong, or crazy for acting like it?  It would be one thing if this was someone new. Good luck and God bless.  It would be another if he said, at any point in the relationship, how he felt. That he was anxious or nervous or angry or scared or hurt or apprehensive or lost. You know, feelings.  I can’t blame a person for having feelings. Had he stepped up and said “you know what, I can’t stop thinking about my ex, I want to give it another try with her.”  That would have been fine. Not in the moment, but nine months later, I wouldn’t be feeling like this. Feeling like I’ve just clicked the last piece of the puzzle into place. 

It wasn’t me. It was, obviously, never me.  I wouldn’t still be putting myself back together after riding the world’s shittiest, least exciting roller coaster.  I wouldn’t be having nightmares that I was somehow still dating him, still subjected to his unfortunately not unique brand of emotionlessness and quiet disdain. Like I was the freak for feeling.  When things were really, truly over, that’s when I learned the most about who he was. I remember sitting at the kitchen counter, having a silent panic attack, wondering where I was going to live, what I was going to do, how I was going to make this all work. The pandemic and riots had hit my neighborhood hard, and I was trying to imagine starting life over when everything else was figuratively and literally crumbling.  Granted, I can’t remember the conversation word-for-word, but this is my best attempt.  “What’s going on?”  “Nothing, I’m just freaking out.” “Why?” “I have to move. I have to start over. I have to figure out so many things.” “Yeah, well...” “What?” “I just don’t know why you’re so upset.” “Are you fucking serious?” “Yeah. I don’t know why you have to have so many emotions.”  “Do you mean now, or in general?” “In general.” I was about ready to fly apart.

“You don’t...understand...why I have EMOTIONS?”  ”Yeah. I guess I just don’t see the point.” I don’t remember much after that. I remember going back upstairs and crying so hard I vomited. So much made sense: it wasn’t that he couldn’t empathize with me. It’s that he saw no value in it. Only his emotions were valid. Anything beyond that was simply not worth caring about. It was chilling, and nauseating, and heartbreaking. My heart broke many times over the course of the month I spent living there after we decided to part ways. I had several conversations like this, where I realized just how long I had been having a one-sided relationship. It also made me feel white-hot, clench-fisted RAGE. How DARE he?  NOTHING about his daily life would change. He would wake up in the same bed, go down the same set of stairs, putz around his merry fucking way. He wouldn’t have to spend a dollar or dime sorting out what came next. Me, on the other hand? I lost my job the same day I found my apartment.  I wanted to claw the paint from the walls I had meticulously restored. I wanted to splinter the floors I had paid to have refinished. I wanted to take all this hard work with me, somehow, to show that I had not truly given up everything. That I had something left. I’m not writing this for you to feel bad about me. I’m more than fine.  I’m not looking for words of encouragement. I don’t need them.  I want him, and other quietly shitty men, held accountable.  Nothing my ex did was actually abusive. It was juuuuust under the line, just enough for him to be able to walk away with his hands up, all “Guess it just didn’t work out!” And I know, I KNOW I’m not the only one.  He made me feel crazy and stupid and weak and small and pathetic. I contorted myself into impossible shapes, trying to make the relationship work. I did things he would never do, that I would never do again. I moved across the country. Twice.  I downplayed all the porn he watched. I pushed the fact that he had an active FetLife account out of my mind. I ignored my dealbreaker about being with a smoker - something he claimed he quit, then started up again in secret, then held against me when I called him out. Making me the bad guy.  It got so bad, I suspected I had R-OCD, or relationship-based OCD. That was my only explanation for how I was always so anxious and he was always so calm. It was MY fault that something felt off. He was aware of my tendency to blame myself, and used it against me. Then, he would get to be the patient, understanding boyfriend while I broke down again and again, hating myself for being so “weak.” I wasn’t weak. He was keeping me in the dark on purpose, because it was easier to do that than to, I don’t know, be fucking honest?! 

Every time I got really bent out of shape, when the little slights and coldness and disdain had built up to a breaking point, he would let me say (or scream) my piece, and respond: “You’re right.”  Wow. Thanks!  I see now that you don’t have to do much work on yourself when you just agree with the person who is upset with you.  I’m also not writing this to paint myself as an angel. Yes, I was frustrated and confused and upset, which came out in outbursts of tears and anger. But the difference is, I was trying to connect with him in everything I did.  He was trying to push me away. it dawned on me, during one of those horrible post-breakup conversations, that he had fully checked out many months ago. I finally asked him to define a phrase I had heard him use during couples counseling (another suggestion of mine). “What do you mean by ‘I’m deeply invested in your happiness?’” “What?” “Well, like an investment, do you mean time, money, emotions? Or do you just want me to be ok?” “Yeah, that.” “Ok. so you just want me to be “okay”.” I’ll take “Performative Allyship” for 200! I’ve told myself I should have known. Should have left sooner. Should-ing myself to death, sparing him from any fault. Remember, he’s the long-suffering partner of an overly sensitive woman. Another wince-worthy excerpt from couples counseling: Our therapist asked us, at the end of a session, to each tell the other something we loved about the other person. I turned, with tears in my eyes, and told him I appreciated how consistent he was. I was always able to count on him being stable and calm.  He told me he liked how nice and clean I kept the house.  Cool! He could have saved himself about six months of this bullshit if he had just spoken his mind. I wonder, now, if he even had the capacity. But no, he preferred to wait and let me figure it out on my own, until I was so depleted that I was having almost nonstop migraines. But, just like the sibling who can’t get into trouble because they’re “NOT ACTUALLY TOUCHING YOU!!!”, nothing he did was exactly abusive.  But it was plenty shitty.  Mr. Social Justice. Mr. Feminism. Mr. Don’t Comment On That Topic Or I’ll Shut Down Emotionally. Mr. We Have To Move Away From Montana For Vague Reasons Including Racial Tension Which I Never Actually Experienced But That’s Reason Enough For Me!  And when we got to Philadelphia, it was Mr. Why Don’t You Take More Walks Outside Even Though You Get Harassed and Followed? You’re In The House Too Much (Yeah, Even Though It’s a Pandemic).  He’d spend hours on the phone talking to the nurses he helped at work. But when a woman in need lived in his own house, ew, gross! Too close to home!  There’s a line in a very funny Chris Fleming song called the “Grad Student Shuffle”, which takes the absolute piss out of white male graduate students. A few of the lines apply, but these especially: Call yourself a community organizer Even though you’re not on speaking terms with your roommates! Stand tall and look mindful Even though you're addicted to porn! C'mon! Now close your eyes Say fair enough "Fair enough" Now you are doing the Grad Student Shuffle I’ve gone back and added to this post a bunch of times since I wrote it. I like having a record, even if it’s one-sided. I realize I’m writing this as much for myself as I am for anyone else. To put my story down somewhere, and not to be too concerned if it’s fair or balanced. What happened to me wasn’t fair or balanced.  Which reminds me of the worst confrontation we ever had.  It was just an hour or two after we decided to break up. It was a sad, but quiet conversation. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. I went upstairs to let the new reality soak in, and asked if I could steal a puff from his vaporizer. Not weird, right? What was weird was that I felt like a guest in his room. We kept separate bedrooms, which I highly recommend to any couple who can spare the space. But there is a difference between having the option of separate spaces, and feeling relegated to separate spaces. I didn’t feel welcome in his room, and he made no secret of it.  So, as usual, I asked to go in.  He had left his laptop open on the bed, and I stared off into space as I waited for the vaporizer to heat. I must note, here, that I am not a person who digs. I will run circles in my own brain, but by and large, i leave stuff alone. So I didn’t go looking for what was already on the screen, which was a conversation between him and his best friend.  I read maybe a couple sentences before realizing, oops, probably shouldn’t. It was enough to see one exchange, less than two hours after we had officially broken up. “That sucks, man. How long do you think til you’ll be back on Tinder?” “I don’t know. Probably before she moves out.”  I’d like to say I don’t remember what happened next, but I do remember. I marched down two flights of stairs, yanked two giant plastic bins out of basement storage, and rage-packed everything I owned outside of my own room in less than ten minutes. 

He, of course, had no idea. Nuanced as a fucking turtle, he told me he was going out for a walk, and then asked if something was wrong.  I let him have it. Everything that had been building inside of my body came spewing out, all at once. I stumbled over my own words, laughing-crying-screaming-asking him what the fuck he was thinking, who the fuck he was, and what the fuck was this relationship? Was any of it even REAL?  He had nothing to say.  And that, my friends, was my main mistake. Thinking anything I could ever do could ever get a reaction out of him. Could ever draw the sort of love or support or attention that I used to get from him, before he decided to turn off the tap. 

I spent another month there until I could finally move out. I could tell he was annoyed that I was still there. I remember telling him people aren’t disposable. They don’t disappear when you decide you’re done with them. Thirty days was the absolute minimum I could manage, and even that was an incredible feat.  He asked me to watch the dog, the one he adopted only a couple of months before, while he went out. I remember thinking, “Am I watching this animal so he can go out on dates? No fucking way.” I still don’t know, and I’m glad I don’t. 

He’s not the only quietly shitty guy. There are many. I’m sure bunches of them are being congratulated on their engagements or promotions right now, by people who have never dated them. Have never had the soul-wrenching realization that oh, this person who told you you were their dream and their angel and their moon and stars actually decided like a year ago that they just weren’t feeling it and didn’t have the balls to tell you.  But, feel free to question reality in the meantime! 

Women reading this, beware. There are men who hold up their hands and shrug and say shit like “I wish her the best” and know to use phrases like “emotional labor” to fake enough self-knowledge to start a relationship that they don’t know how to finish.  I encourage you to ask questions. Find out how much they know about themselves. How long their relationships tend to last. If their friends really know them. If they change jobs frequently. If they move states frequently, and why.  But most of all, know yourselves. Know that you deserve to have your questions answered, your emotions validated, and your opinions heard. There are plenty of quietly shitty men to choose from.  You don’t need to choose one. 

[notesfromthefielddesk]

Episode 5 - Judith Butler

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/6yCPTlFz7uk7nhojByDwRI?si=5fc75b929803458e

John J: I bet you can guess where I am. I concluded that it was probably best for me to come back to London, tail between my legs so I can apologise. I’m up on the fourth floor of the social sciences building. When I came on the open day I saw all these old buildings in the centre of town. But of course the social science building is about twenty minutes walk away in what you might charitably call a “brutalist” building. Other people...might call it ugly. A reflection I am sure of anthropologies perceived value. Look we aren’t the law department you know lots of students and money and career paths and a separate library. But whatever I mean the quality of the education we get in this building is in my view better. I mean laws fine... if you’re into that kind of thing. 

Sorry, I got off track there. My sister studied law. Good for her I guess. Anyway, you’ve seen a hallway like this one before, every few steps there's a pushpin board with some notices for psychology experiments run by undergrads and events which happened two years ago. I’m opposite a display case with books written by people from the department. There is a draft from the window behind me which is one of those single pane deals with that adhesive plastic which I assume is to stop the glass shattering? But it’s peeling away at the corners. It was a nightmare getting up here, the lift on one side of the building only goes up to the third floor, so once I got there, I had to drag the desk to the lift on the other side of the building to get up here. Then Susans office is back on the other side. So I’m sweaty and umm quite nervous about facing Susan. Who I am pretty sure hates me. I should say there is someone else waiting here, What did you say your name was;

Julie K: I didn’t, it’s Julie.

JJ: Hi, umm thanks for being quiet while i did the intro…(awkward) So what’s your research about? 

JK: I’m not sure really, still at the planning phase but something about gender I think… maybe about cocoa farmers.. 

JJ: Like de Beauvoir? (Doesn’t leave room for an answer) But she’s not really an anthropologist? 

JK: So? 

JJ: So… she was a philosopher, an ethicist to be exact, that’s not really anthropology. Is it?

JK: I never even said I was using de Beauvoir. 

JJ: (Not listening) Although…(goes into a spiel about de Beauvoir which I need to research) de Beauvoir did argue that the views of individuals are socially and culturally produced. She said “one is not born a woman but becomes one.” She said women are taught through social interactions three facts; 1. That women need to fulfill the needs of men. 2. Their women’s self worth was built on external validation a.k.a being pretty and 3. They have less influence because they have less legal rights. De Beauvouir said that dolls given to young girls are an example of the way girls are taught to think. She said young girls identify with the doll and through it learn to see themselves as pretty objects without their own agency, which is just a fancy way of saying choice. None of this is innate to being a woman, they aren’t born objects but made into them by society which aims to suppress them. Which is kind of like Geertz and his webs of significance. Except Geertz said you spun your own webs where as De Beauvoir seems to think society spins the webs around women trapping them in certain norms. Women, De Beauvoir said, needed to see these constructs to escape them. Like how, if a fly is in a bottle, it needs to first see the bottle to get out. 

(Smug pause)

JK: Why did you just explain De Beauvoir to me?

(awkward Johnson noises)

JK: And yeah De Beauvoir is a start but like the waves of feminism built up on each other, so did the people who studied gender: so where De Beauvoir pointed out the distinction between sex and gender, Butler makes the line between them a bit fuzzy. Or.. she actually questions it. Sex, according to Butler, is not just the biological one, and gender the socially constructed one. Sex is socially constucted as well. Which people find a tricky idea right? Like, men have penises, women have vaginas, there are biological facts. But what Butler is pointing out is not about biology but about categories, and that we’re not born with sex just as we’re not born with gender. Man and woman are two really broad categories with a lot of variation within them.  Women with beards, men with boobs etc. All these biological features, are features that we have grouped into categories of sexes. Remember Caster Semenya? She was the South African runner who was so fast people complained that she must be a man. She was forced to undergo sexual verification procedures which determined her to be a woman. However, it was later decided that her testosterone was too high to compete as a woman. If the binary between men and women is as clear as we’re socialised to believe then surely that would have been determined the first time around. The truth is, what we call “woman” is a collection of traits which we as a society have agreed make someone a woman. It’s like that shower realisation that maybe what we’re all agreeing is red is being experienced differently by every person! And guess what the way we’re judging whether someone is a woman is not biological, or otherwise you wouldn’t say “hello miss” till you’d seen a DNA test. It’s based on a whole bunch of other assumptions about how a woman acts and looks, which are socially constructed! 

Butler said, influenced by Austin, that Gender and sex are a performance. We behave in certain ways which conform to certain categories but we don’t have a free choice in those behaviours because society has set the stage that forces us all to conform. It’s like that bit in fleabag when she says “Sometimes I worry, I wouldn’t be such a feminist if I had bigger tits.” Maybe she’s right you know like if you conform to society's ideas of femininity, like having big tits, then it’s harder to break out of the performance? So maybe you, explaining De Beauvouir to me, is you, performing your masculinity? The set dressing around you, you know your masters degree, the desk, the books, your tweed suit, Western societal expectations, inform you that you should not only be smart but demonstrate that fact by showing off that intelligence by explaining De Beauvouir. Whereas my set dressing tells me to be quiet and let you explain, despite me being the one who studies gender. Thinking about it this way, and realising the performance of it all, gives women more agency, you know, which means choice. In De Beauvoir women should not act in feminine ways because by not conforming you’re resisting patriarchy. But in Butler’s view if you’re a woman who likes make-up, more power to you, the problem is with the category that says make-up equals female. 

Then, bell hooks came along and recognized that a woman’s race, political history, social position, economic status among other factors influence the way her value is perceived. And that none of these factors can be left out.

She also rightfully pointed out how the feminist movement is dominated by white women fighting for white women’s, upper class, causes. She mentions how this actually kind of imitates the power structure of white patriarchy. So that’s not good.

(Pause this was all said very breathlessly) 

JK: So. I don’t really know how I’m going to approach this at first seemingly small subject of doing research about women who are cocoa farmers in a small town in Ghana, cause that’s what I think I want to do, but then I can’t just look at those women in that small town and their cocoa farms, you know? I feel like I have to think about the whole world and all the thoughts that go in that world before I can even begin to research something like that. Like, for example one part of it for me is that the domestic work these women do isn’t considered work. Which Crawford says is a function of capitalism, like before capitalism, all work which helped make sure everyone could survive, like cooking, was considered work but now work is only labour exchanged for money. She wrote that based on Marx and Engels. So do I need to read Marx now? Am I freaking out? I don’t even know anymore.

JK: I don’t know.. I think it’s important to look at feminism in an intersectional way you know..as if standing on a traffic intersection, with all kinds of different directions that influence a possible accident. The car could’ve come from just one direction, or maybe all of them! This term is coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw, by the way. So you can not really study gender without studying capitalism, or race, or (post)colonial studies. Because they will intertwine and overlap and influence each other and you can’t look at one without the other. You know?!

JJ: uhh that’s a lot. Do you have, like an extract that sort of sums some of this up?

JK: Umm I mean I guess hold on (riffling paper) yeah this…

Starts to play the music 

JK: Did you just put on music to go under me reading?

JJ: uh yeah - do you mind? 

JK: Umm I mean, I guess not - 

Music plays (here we need an extract.)

Okay, so well.. In Gender trouble: Feminism and the subversion of identity (1990) Butler said that “Although the unproblematic unity of “women” is often invoked to construct a solidarity of identity, a split is introduced in the feminist subject by the distinction between sex and gender. Originally intended to dispute the biology-is-destiny formulation the distinction between sex and gender served the argument that whatever biological intractability sex appears to have, gender is culturally constructed: hence, gender is neither causal result of sex nor as seemingly fixed as sex. (…) When the constructed status of gender is theorized as radically independent of sex, gender itself becomes a freefloating artifice, with the consequence that man and masculine might just as easily signify a female body as a male one, and woman and feminine a male body as easily a female one.” 

She then continues to show that sex is just as culturally and socially constructed as gender: “If the immutable character of sex is contested, perhaps this construct called ‘sex’ is as culturally constructed as gender: indeed, perhaps it was always already gender, with the consequence that the distinction between sex and gender turns out to be no distinction at all. It would make no sense then, to define gender as the cultural interpretation of sex, if sex itself is a gendered category (..) As a result, gender is not to culture as sex is to nature; gender is also the discursive/cultural means by which ‘sexed nature’ or ‘a natural sex’ is produced and established as ‘prediscursive’, prior to culture, a politically neutral surface on which culture acts. (p.7)

She goes on about the performance of sex and gender by writing that “(..) gender proves to be performative - that is, constituting the identity it is purported to be. In this sense, gender is always a doing, though not a doing by a subject who might be said to preexist the deed. (..) There is no gender identity behind the expressions of gender; that identity is performatively constituted by the very “expressions” that are said to be its results.’

And then bell hooks, with no capital letters by the way, or Gloria Jean Watkins, wrote in 1981, before Butler, that “It is obvious that many women have appropriated feminism to serve their own ends, especially those white women who have been at the forefront of the movement; but rather than resigning myself to this appropriation I choose to re-appropriate the term “feminism,” to focus on the fact that to be “feminist” in any authentic sense of the term is to want for all people, female and male, liberation from sexist role patterns, domination, and oppression.”

An important thing she then mentions is that “[Our] struggle for liberation has significance only if it takes place within a feminist movement that has as its fundamental goal the liberation of all people.”

This aligns with Crenshaw’s term ‘intersectionality’: “Intersectionality is a lens through which you can see where power comes and collides, where it interlocks and intersects.”(https://www.law.columbia.edu/news/archive/kimberle-crenshaw-intersectionality-more-two-decades-later#:~:text=Crenshaw%3A%20Intersectionality%20is%20a%20lens,where%20it%20interlocks%20and%20intersects.) ��Cultural patterns of oppression are not only interrelated but are bound together and influenced by the intersectional systems of society. Examples of this include race, gender, class, ability, and ethnicity.”

JK: Hey, there are a few of us doing our research in Ghana. We leave in like a month so if you want to do your research there, other people will be around.

JJ: Oh, okay, yeah i’ll umm think about it. 

(door opens) 

S: (in a happy voice) Oh hello Julie, (with displeasure) John. You can come in now John, Julie I’ll be with you shortly. 

JJ: Okay, Umm julie would you help me to move the desk in there? 

S: Leave the fucking desk.

JJ: Can I bring my microphone? 

S: Sure just, quickly yeah?

JJ: Susan

S: Johnathan 

JJ: it’s actually not short for Johnathan

S: What? What else could it possibly be short for?

JJ: Johnty 

S: With a h? 

JJ: Yeah with a H 

S: Okay...I’m going to stick with John. 

JJ: First of all I just wanted to say I did some soul searching in Bali -

S: you and everyone doing a gap year.

JJ: And i’m really sorry, I want to take it seriously now and - 

S: Yeah, I listened to episode 4. Do you think that does it? One episode where you say oops biffed it a bit, i’m a bad academic and maybe a misogynist then you’re done? How has your behaviour changed? Did you reply to my emails? Mark any assignments? Run a tutorial? 

JJ: Well in my defence I had the epiphany after about two weeks so I missed a couple but after that I flew straight back here! 

S: Look here is what is going to happen. I’ve reassigned your students and classes. I want to fire you but the department has made it clear to me that we need your fathers money.

JJ: Grandfather,

S: Shut up. So if you’re serious about taking this seriously here is what is going to happen. I want you to go away, get all this podcast shit out of your system and come back and do your job properly. To make it worth the department's time I want you to make it about Tsing. The students don’t really get what she is trying to say and i guess your podcast will be a good change of pace. And! I want a research proposal, a real one, not just (mocking voice) “desk go in field.” then come back and do your job properly okay? If you don’t you’re fired. You have a month to be back here, two podcast episodes and a proposal. Now get out. 

JJ: Look I get it and I can see you’re angry. But I need you to know that if you look out the window behind you - 

S: No.

JJ: But the guy he’s in the building opposite. 

S: I don’t care 

JJ: He has binoculars! If you’ll look you’ll know I wasn’t completely lying! 

S: Even if there is a man with binoculars over there what does that prove? 

JJ: He’s waving! 

S: Get out. 

JJ: Okay. Bye. 

Credits 

JJ: Okay, umm weird I just found this note in my pocket. It says “stop mentioning me on your podcast. Firstly, i’m not a bad guy just because of that Papua New Guinea stuff. Secondly, I'm meant to be undercover. And third the more you mention me the more you build anticipation for the reveal. You’re creating an untenable situation for yourself. 

Yours,

K” 

What the fuck! 

[szzln]

a hunnid questions

thanks for taggin me bby :) @dacremontgomerylover

1. What is your nickname? siggy, sid

2. How old are you? 19 (i don’t want to leave my teen years)

3. What is your birth month? september

4. What is your zodiac sign? virgo, yeeet

5. What is your favourite colour? blueeee (like my feelings)

6. What’s your lucky number? don’t really have one, but I like 5 and 8

7. Do you have any pets? a stray cat named Pablo and I love her dearly

8. Where are you from? australia

9. How tall are you? 5’7”

10. What shoe size are you? UK 11

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 7?

12. Are you random? with my closest friends, yes

13. Last person you texted? my friend group chat

14. Are you psychic in any way? when i predict things, they are usually wrong so i’m going to say no

15. Last TV show watched? brooklyn nine-nine!!!

16. Favourite movie? the book of life, a walk to remember, she’s all that

17. Favourite show from your childhood? iCarly, victorious

18. Do you want children? yes but later down the track. i can’t think of kids now, i have enough brothers as it is

19. Do you want a church wedding? not a church wedding, but somewhere really nice, maybe at a really nice function hall that looks out to the lake, with a dope ass floral garden – a place that’s got them real aesthetics lmao

20. What is your religion? i believe there is a God but I try to follow the christianity values that my family follows. i definitely know i’m going to hell.

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? um yes, who hasn’t? i was born at one.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? yes (kind of). it was one of those times where i paid for a child ticket when i just started my first year of uni (because the ticket prices for child and student concession are the same) so i thought i wasn’t going to get caught at like 7pm, when all the transport officials have finished. apparently, they hadn’t finished, so i was left with them in front of me asking for my id’s lol

23. How is life? i’m nearing the end of my first sem of second year of uni! i am so relieved that i finished my classes today. i have two essays due this weekend, i’m completely fucked over both and an exam next weekend but i’m okay! i’ve already cried over about them lmao :)

24. Baths or showers? showers all the way.

25. What colour socks are you wearing? black glitter socks

26. Have you ever been famous? if you count people saying hi to you when you don’t know their name, then yes. at school hahaha

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? i’d love to be, honestly. it sounds conceited but i’ve dreamed of being famous. when i get hate comments, i love to be witty

28. What type of music do you like? r&b yeeeet. pop, sad ballads (EXTRA POINTS IF THEY MAKE ME WEEP LIKE A FUCKING BABY)

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? omg no and probably never will

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? i sleep with one with a few rectangle cushions here and there

31. What position do you usually sleep in?  on my back with my arms stretched taking up all the space. and my stomach with my leg folded up with my pillow lying vertically with me

32. How big is your house? to be honest, i don’t like talking about my living arrangements. i feel like it’s a place for me, my own private space. i’m just going to say it’s cosy.

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? whatever cereal there is, or for brunch, i’ll have whatever was last night’s dinner

34. Have you ever left the country? once to new zealand

35. Have you ever tried archery? no but i think i’ll suck at it big time. i can’t even handle a toy archery set, what makes me think i can try with an actual arrow??? lmaaoo

36. Do you like anyone? there’s this cutie, he looks like he’s the same age, maybe a little older, and he does after school care for the children at my youngest brother’s school. we have never spoken and i’d like it that way

37. Favourite swear word? fuck

38. When do you fall asleep? whenever i feel tired. or when i have a headache. or when i can’t be bothered with my school work anymore lol

39. Do you have any scars? if you hadn’t noticed, I have chicken pox scars all over my face.

40. Sexual orientation? straight (but sometimes i can’t help that people of the same sex as me are gorgeous and i wish i could be them)

41. Are you a good liar? i’d like to say so. it’s called acting

42. What languages would you like to learn? i’d love to learn spanish again. maybe italian, greek?

43. Top 10 songs? fall in line – demi x xtina be careful – cardi b drew barrymore – bryce vine 2002 – anne-marie smooth criminal – michael jackson what i need – hayley x kehlani you can cry – marshmello, james arthur, juicy j why – shawn mendes i was never there – the weeknd lovely – billie eilish x khalid

44. Do you like your country? yes

45. Do you have friends from the web? omg yes, i love them dearly

46. What is your personality type? according to the 16-personalities survey, i am an adventurer (not an ad lol)

47. Hogwarts House? according to the official Hogwarts house quiz, i’m a gryffindor but i lowkey want to be a slytherin

48. Can you curl your tongue? side to side, oui

49. Pick one fictional character you can relate to?

50. Left or right-handed? right-handed

51. Are you scared of spiders? i’d slowly walk away from spiders, buT FUCK SNAKES I’M OUT

52. Favourite food? anything that’s good.

53. Favourite foreign food? chinese

54. Are you a clean or messy person? i myself am a mess

55. If you could switch your gender for a day, what would you do? look at my new genitals

56. What colour underwear? grey

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? abouts an hour

58. Do you have much of an ego? i’d like to stay grounded for as long as possible

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? both

60. Do you talk to yourself? yes, quietly.

61. Do you sing to yourself? is that even a question, of course i do.

62. Are you a good singer? i’m decent.

63. Biggest Fears? snakES AND CROWDED PLACES FUCK ME UP

64. Are you a gossip? uni has me wary of what people say and what headlines i see online. i won’t believe it until proven.

65. Are you a grammar Nazi? i sat here for a minute before I answered these questions correcting ‘favorite’ to ‘favourite’ and ‘color’ to ‘colour’. but i don’t think I’d point out something unless it was written on paper in person?

66. Do you have long or short hair? medium. my hair is growing and is a happy lass

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? i can probably name like 10, i’m not american

68. Favourite school subject? music practices was fun af

69. Extrovert or Introvert? introvert 100%

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? probably not, i’m scared of accidentally sucking in the mask for the oxygen or the oxygen tank failing

71. What makes you nervous?   crowded places and cute guys

72. Are you scared of the dark? no. i love the dark and i get pissed when a room is too bright.

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? i question them whether it’s right or not to see if they’d pick up on it or lecture me on said topic

74. Are you ticklish? i hate that i am

75. Have you ever started a rumour? who has the energy to though?

76. Have you ever been out of your home country? yes. i’ve answered this (so basically there’s 99 qs mwuahaha)

77. Have you ever drank underage? omg no. my parents would have whooped my ass

78. Have you ever done drugs? prescription drugs, yes.

79. What do you fantasize about? me being in a relationship

80. How many piercings do you have? only my hears. i would like a nose piercing soon

81. Can you roll your R’s? okurrrrrrr

82. How fast can you type? i don’t even know

83. How fast can you run? bruh. i don’t run at all (unless if it was for the bus, then maybe)

84. What colour is your hair? black at roots, and then brown and then washed out green

85. What colour are your eyes? brown

86. What are you allergic to? nothinnnn’

87. Do you keep a journal? i try to, but like I forget lol

88. Are you depressed about anything? my life? myself?

89. Do you like your age? yes.

90. What makes you angry? slow walkers, people who are closed minded, people who think feminism is a bunch of sexist, man-hating screaming women (although urban dictionary’s multiple definitions on feminism makes me howl of laughter), people who have a chip on their shoulder for no reason

91. Do you like your own name? i’ve grown to like it.

92. Did you ever get a foreign object up your nose? okay so this happened when i was like between 4 and 6. it was either before or after christmas and i was at my grandparents’ house because they were watching me while my parents were out. for me at that age, i was always bored, so i decided to remove the cushions from the single chair i was sitting on. i found these two little plastic balls that must have come off some christmas decorations and i wanted to see if it could fit up my nose. it did. until i decided to push it up further to the point it got stuck and i started crying for my aunty to help me take it out. she didn’t help me and told me that i needed to get it out myself because it was my own wrongdoing LMAAO

93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? why not have both?

94. What talents do you have? i can crack my elbow the way we crack our knuckles, does that count?

95. Sun or moon? moon

96. How did you get your name? my parents had already decided on the name ‘angel’ for me lol. but apparently when i was born, to my mum she looked at me and was immediately was like “sigalu!” (pronounced si-nguh-lou) and so she called my great-grandfather (mum’s mum’s dad) to ask if she could name me after my nana, and voila :) (the name is sacred and can only be given permission to use it).

97. Are you religious? i try to be a good child of God

98. Have you ever been to a therapist? no but i think i should

99. Colour of your bedspread? dark-beige

100. Colour of your room? an ugly off-white colour

[wallstromsexual]

BEACH TOWELL IS ON whoismrrobot.com i cant believe it??

Chapter 4:A Wink Gone Wrong

Jonathan lay there, prone, cheek pressed flat against the asphalt, his mouth filling with the metallic taste of pennies. As his mind re-booted, recovering from the sudden stun, he now began connecting dots, running through all the possible reasons as to why someone should want to assail him in the parking lot of a Publix -- but there were just too many recent developments to draw a reasonable conclusion.

Then Jonathan saw a woman with wildly overdone Smokey Eyes eyeshadow standing behind his assailant. “Oh, her,” he thought. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

And, sure enough, it was. The events leading up to present, Jonathan sucker punched in a grocery store parking lot -- his reusable shopping bag on its side, the chocolate cake he had been instructed to pickup from the Bakery skittered across the pavement in its plastic shell, the SpongeBob depicted in colorful frosting now warped and grotesquely skewed -- could be traced back to a simple, harmless, miscommunicated facial gesture.

A fact that Jonathan tried to articulate as he pushed himself off ground, “This is all a misund--” But this factual basis for a resolution went unheard or unheeded as Jonathan took another blow, slumping back down to the parking lot pavement.

“You been sweatin’ my lady,” he heard the man say as he saw work boots approach. Shit. Steel-toed.

“Can you... just... wait a second?” Jonathan said, pushing himself up again.

Jonathan looked up at the man. Took in his burly, sunburned arms. His eyes unreadable, but intent unmistakeable, behind mirrored Oakley sunglasses. Then again at the tattered steel-toed boots. The story his appearance told was that of a guy who worked outside, a guy who worked with his hands. Meaty damn hands.

Jonathan peered around the man, looking to the woman standing behind him -- her crossed arms and expression saying: GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY. Jonathan wondered if she was not entirely pleased that her honor was being defended in this way, if her impatience hinted at an underlying feminism: don’t use your insecurity as a justification for male violence; I am not an object to be fought over. Or, was she just bored with the proceedings thus far -- a jealous beatdown a commonplace occurrence in their household? In either case, Jonathan could see that she would be no help in intervening.

What a tragic turn -- that all Jonathan had done to get out of his unfortunate situation since getting embroiled in this beach towel business -- that it all might be undone by an unrelated incident. By what was intended to be received as a well-meaning (and not at all sexually charged) wink.

A wink gone wrong. That wink was a timebomb. And now it was going off, right at the most inopportune time, such as it would. Knowing that this misunderstanding might interfere with Jonathan’s time-table, knowing that he had to get that SpongeBob cake to Simon, and if he missed the deadline... well, that would be not good at all. So, Jonathan knew he would have to get himself out of this mess, too. Somehow. Now, while Jonathan’s mind races to find a solution, let’s pause the forward progress of our narrative to fill you in on what happened --

What happened was this: The woman with the over-the-top Smokey Eyes eyeshadow was a waitress at a diner on Las Olas Boulevard, just off the boardwalk. And not the day before we met Jonathan in Chapter 1, the very day before his life was turned flip-upside-down on the beach, Jonathan dined at that diner. Sure, he chatted up the waitress -- as was his wont; we know by now that Jonathan is a loquacious and affable charmer

[whovianfeminism]

Whovian Feminism Reviews “Thin Ice”

Who gets to travel in time and space?

Doctor Who would probably answer that question with an enthusiastic “Anyone!” Perhaps not everyone should travel with the Doctor. But anyone* who has an open mind, a hunger for adventure, and the will to fight the most terrible things the universe can throw at you could travel with the Doctor.

But some fans have always been aware of the asterisk that comes after anyone*. Perhaps anyone could travel with the Doctor, but not everyone would be accepted wherever the Doctor goes. And Bill Potts -- our second black companion, our first (main) queer companion, and a woman -- is especially aware of the risks of traveling to the past. And she’s still not very sure of the man who’s leading her into danger with a cheshire cat grin.

Sarah Dollard’s astounding second episode for Doctor Who tackles both the personal and the political. “Thin Ice” addresses the risks of traveling through time when you’re from a historically oppressed group, delivers a pointed critique of modern pop-culture whitewashing, and also delivers a compelling character piece between the Doctor and Bill as she discovers what kind of person you have to be to travel with the Doctor.

Doctor Who has tried to explore the discrimination and oppression the companions could face while traveling in the past, but the results have often been lackluster. “Thin Ice” makes a deliberate call back to one notable conversation from the “The Shakespeare Code,” where Martha flags the danger she might be in while walking around Elizabethan England.

“I’m not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?” she asked the Doctor.

“Why would they do that?” he replied with clear shock and distress, as if he couldn’t fathom a reason why someone would do that to his Black companion. At best, this comes off as a type of well-meaning (yet still insulting) color blindness, as if the Doctor just doesn’t recognize why Martha would be concerned for her safety because he “doesn’t see” Martha’s race. At worst, this feels like a curious and dangerous blind spot in the Doctor’s encyclopedic knowledge of human history. Rather than engaging with the subject, it feels like "The Shakespeare Code” was trying to hand-wave it away and dismiss Martha’s concerns.

When Martha points out she’s not white, the Doctor’s response is hardly reassuring. “I’m not even human,” replies the alien who happens to look shockingly like a white man. He follows up with “Just walk about like you own the place, works for me.” Of course, that absolutely wouldn’t work for anyone who didn’t look like a white guy. It’s remarkably tone-deaf and dangerous to tell marginalized people to walk around with a sense of entitlement to avoid harassment. In my experience, that approach tends to lead to worse harassment.

"Thin Ice” approaches this conversation with much more respect for Bill’s fears. The Doctor doesn’t immediately put two-and-two together and realize that Bill’s discomfort with wandering Regency England has to do with her being black. But once he understands, he doesn’t try to invalidate her feelings. He acknowledges there may be trouble and lets Bill decide what she’ll do.

In “The Shakespeare Code,” the Doctor tries to put Martha’s fears to rest by pointing out two black woman walking ahead of them and saying, “Besides, you’d be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time.” It’s a another hand-wavey moment to dismiss Martha’s fears, but it’s also the only time we see black women at all. They vanish within seconds, unnamed and without a single line. The remainder of the story is dominated by white characters. 

In “Thin Ice,” black women and people of color are a prominent, powerful presence. Kitty leads her band of street urchins and has a huge role to play in pushing the plot forward. If there was a Bechdel-style test for whether two women of color talk to each other without mentioning a white man, Bill and Kitty would pass. People of color are also prominently visible in the background of Regency London, and Dollard uses that as a way to make a critique of whitewashing in our modern pop culture. History has always been more diverse than our movies and TV shows have cared to admit. 

In the midst of all this, the Doctor and Bill are wrestling with their evolving relationship from professor and pupil to Doctor and companion. And as Bill learns more about just how alien the Doctor is, their morals and values come into conflict as well.

The Doctor seems to be finding it difficult to step back from his role as a lecturer. Throughout “Thin Ice,” he treats every conflict with Bill as another opportunity to teach her a lesson. When she’s disturbed by the death of Spider, he treats her like she’s throwing a tantrum and tells her that he’s “never had time for the luxury of outrage.” When they are about to confront Lord Sutcliffe, the Doctor orders Bill to be quiet while he interrogates Sutcliffe and lectures her about her temper, confidently saying that “Passion fights, but reason wins.” But Bill’s not here for the Doctor’s lectures or for his posturing about reason vs. passion. 

Which brings us to the truly incredible moment that the Doctor punches Lord Sutcliffe.

Narratively, this moment is absolutely earned. Viewers know that the Doctor is absolutely full of it when he says he’s never had the luxury of outrage. As Bill later says, he’s never had time for anything else! This moment puts that false choice between logic and passion in sharp relief. One is not inherently better than the other, and there are just some situations in which logic cannot win. There’s no reasoning with someone who’s that deeply, confidently racist. At a certain point, they just need to face the consequences of their actions and then be silenced.

“Thin Ice” was written and filmed long before Richard Spencer was punched at Donald Trump’s Inauguration, and yet it has managed to land squarely in the middle of the “Is It Okay To Punch Racist Assholes” conversation. The Doctor seems to fall firmly in the “YES” column. But the punch definitely seemed to touch a nerve with some. One troll on Twitter went so far as to say the episode was anti-white and that Doctor Who had been taken over by “SJWs.”


First of all, if this is the first episode in which you think that Doctor Who is advocating for social justice, I have to wonder if we’ve been watching the same show. Second, I find the assertion that the episode is “anti-white” for portraying an accurate -- even relatively muted -- racist attitude by a white person is truly ridiculous. But I did find his discomfort with showing white people’s racism to be interesting.

Science fiction fans love their allegorical or metaphorical racists. Stormtroopers and Daleks are some of our most popular and enduring pop culture characters, and both are based to some degree on Nazis. But we like our villains to be larger than life figures obscured in costumes, and our heroes facing these villains to be overwhelmingly white. The evils these villains represent can then be a few steps removed from the real world. But there’s something to be said for pulling the racist out from behind the plastic mask or metal suit. Lord Sutcliffe’s racism is very human; it’s practically banal. Our TV shows shouldn’t just address racism allegorically or metaphorically, they should show the actual perpetrators and victims in our own world.

And, for the record, I’m totally in favor of the punch. If Daleks and Cybermen and all the rest should fear the Oncoming Storm and the Destroyer of Worlds if they attempt to harm others, then racists should be afraid that an angry Scottish man with attack eyebrows will punch them in the face if they spew their venom at anyone else. 

Ultimately, this episode comes down to the value we place on human life. Lord Sutcliffe is the obvious villain because he places no value on any life besides his own. But for most of “Thin Ice,” Bill isn’t sure how much value the Doctor places on human life either.

Twice in “Thin Ice” the Doctor fails to look even remotely disturbed when people are killed right in front of him. His focus is more on retrieving his sonic screwdriver than saving their lives. And when he’s confronted by Bill he confesses that he can’t remember how many people he’s seen die -- or how many people he’s killed. Emotionally, this feels like the inverse to the moment in “Smile” where Bill realizes that the Doctor is the man who saves people. In “Thin Ice,” he’s the man who doesn’t always save everybody. Sometimes, he’s the man who kills them. He’s the man who makes the hard choices about who to save and who to sacrifice. And it’s his casual attitude towards the lives he can’t save that disturbs Bill more than anything. 

But Bill and the Doctor find their equilibrium when they come together to solve the problem. The Doctor invites Bill to participate in his deliberations rather than telling her how to think, and leaves the final decision up to her. Logic and reason are both invoked. Risks are analyzed, lives are weighed, and a judgement is made on the value Bill and the Doctor place on all the lives at stake. They both make each other stronger when they work in tandem, a pattern I hope carries through the rest of the season.

[neomikey]

DashCon

Some years ago, I frequented the convention circuits, mostly in the American midwest.  Anime Central was a common staple, but thanks to a cadre of friends and contacts, I went to a whole host of others, such as JAFAX, Anime Crossroads, Youmacon, Anime North, and a bunch whose names I’ve forgotten over the years.  I’m incredibly grateful that I was given the money to attend all these different conventionss during that time in my life, and nowadays, my time, money, and interests are diverted elsewhere (though mostly to paying bills).  I was even a cosplayer that people remembered from con to con -- Samurai Pizza Cats, the Supreme Catatonic, Soldier A, and Death.

With all the recent talk of the travesty of Fyre Festival, comparison to a similar event has been making the rounds.

DashCon....

I was still something of a Tumblr neophyte at the time, both interested and curious about the culture in general.  I mostly stuck to my humble corner, following a couple artists I knew and being happy about it.  Occasionally I would hear talk of how huge Benedict Cumberbatch or Supernatural or whatever would be elsewhere, but I thought nothing of it.

Then, some way down the pipeline came talk of a new convention there in the Chicagoland area, catering to general nerdery, but also was tailored specifically to Tumblr fans.  Glancing through their panels, there were the usual fandom things (such as Sherlock and online roleplaying), but there were other panels too, including battling depression.  I thought it all sounded great!

What really clinched my decision, though, was this man.

Doug Jones was a convention guest.

Known for portraying Abe Sapien in Hellboy, various creatures in Pan’s Labyrinth, Silver Surfer in Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer, and a bunch of other stuff...and he was gonna have a panel on Saturday!  What particularly interested me was that I remembered reading that he had my medical condition of Marfan syndrome, something that makes people lanky, bendable, and a bunch of other stuff.  He would later tell me he didn’t have it, but I didn’t know that starting out.  For a good deal of my school career, I’d been labeled a freak for how I’d looked, so to get to meet someone like me and go to a convention?  Sweet, I’m in!

I invited my good friend @spazztasticxairhead to come along for the Saturday I was going to be in attendance, and while curious, she had to decline.  However, as I did my Friday evening work shift of delivering medicine throughout Indiana, she sent me something odd.  There’s only so much you can say in text message, but she told me that she had heard news that the convention was asking people for money.  Well...c’mon, of course they would, we live in a capitalist society!  Commercialism!  Et cetera!

I wasn’t going to press her for details, since I was busy driving all over the state (plus texting and driving kills), so I finished my shift, got home, and had a couple hours sleep.  And then...it’s go time.

...oh.

So I’m driving in this rainstorm of nigh biblical proportions, the highway is backed up, and I’m barely moving.  I thought about how I had to work another shift that night and how I’d only have a couple hours at the convention, but there was something inside of me telling me it was going to be important that I go to this thing.  I had to meet Doug Jones.

Eventually the rain eases up and I get out to the hotel.  It’s a bit farther out than I usually go in Chicago, but at least I’m at the right place...or at least I think I am.

The thing with conventions is that generally, you see a lot of attendants (a lot of them in cosplay) milling about, including the parking lot.  There?  It was...like....

I had to drive a bit to find two girls walking by the hotel to ask if that was DashCon.  They confirmed, I suited up in my Death cosplay, and headed on in.

It was...quiet.  Abnormally so.  I later on found out that it was mostly because right then, everyone was in the main event hall waiting for Welcome to Nightvale to perform.  I went to the hall where there was registration, and holy criminy was it gigantic...and empty.  Emptiness was a recurring theme during the convention.  It took me virtually a full minute to cross from one end to the other to the completely open registration table.  I remember thinking that while the badge was pricier than I wanted, dangit, Doug Jones.

I had good timing, because it was directly after Night Vale that Doug Jones was going to have his panel.  I decided to kill time by first checking out this bouncy house they had going, because...come on, free bouncy house.  There was also...the infamous ballpit.  No, nobody urinated or had sex in it.  It seemed to me like a small inflated raft with just some plastic balls thrown in and it was also very, very tiny.  When I first came upon it, there were a cadre of Homestuck cosplayers jam-packed into there with absolutely zero room for me to join them.

I then meandered into the artist alley, where...there was nobody.  I mean, the artists were there, yeah, plus a bunch of vendors, but I think there was next to nobody else.

I imagine that it didn’t paint the best picture for those in attendance for me to be walking silently down the empty aisles.

(pic not from DashCon)

Eventually, it was about time, so I found myself a seat in the back of the Welcome to Night Vale panel, where noticeably nothing was happening.  It was about time for the “panel” to end when someone came up to the front and announced that they would not be performing, due to the financial whatnot.  There was an instant rumbling of despair and disappointment from those in attendance.  It was also announced that Doug Jones was coming up next and people were welcome to stay for that, but about 4/5 of the room was having none of that and just headed out.

Sweet, I get good seating!  :D

After things thinned out, Mr. Jones took to the stage.  The first thing I noticed about him was how freakin’ articulate he was.  He jovially sat on the table onstage and kicked his legs about, and it was controlled.  I know that’s a weird thing to say, but he was doing it!

From there, the panel was pretty awesome.  He talked about his history with Guillermo del Toro (including a hand-made business card that del Toro held onto for years), adventures in make-up with Hellboy (his favorite quote was, “If there’s trouble, all us freaks have is each other”), perfecting moving like specific creatures in a gym’s studio, working on Pan’s Labyrinth, and a bunch of other stuff I can’t remember these years later.

The dude is super cool.  After the panel, he had an autograph session in another room.  It turns out where I sat in that room was rather fortuitous, because I was the third in the room who got to meet him.  As soon as he sees me, he breaks into a big grin.  “A fellow guy who’s tall and skinny, eh?”

We make brief smalltalk, I mention that he met my wife @ryukodragon at another convention, I ask him about Marfan syndrome, and he tells me doesn’t have it (but that this actor did!).  He signs the picture I chose from his table (his role as one of the kangaroo people in Tank Girl), and then just like the two people before me, he gives me a big hug.  Something I didn’t expect?

“You’re beautiful.”

When he let go, he told me to keep being skinny and awesome, and that was that, on to the next person.  I’m sure he said that to all the people he met there in the autograph session, but...I was a 32 year-old man then, and to my recollection, no one had said those specific words to me, especially in reference to me being irrevocably skinny (”freakishly so,” some would say).  Simple words, I know, but I still walked away utterly stunned...and honestly elated.

I meandered about the convention a bit more, checking out things here and there.  I don’t like Ed, Edd, & Eddie at all, but I was utterly blown away by the best Ed cosplayer that I’ve seen (even had a spatula).  There was also a phenomenal Maleficent cosplayer who found my in-character Death banter with her to be utterly hilarious.  There were also some dwarves I encountered....

Spoiler: They don’t survive the third movie.

During this time, I notice that the hotel is also setting up an area for a wedding...and it looks like it’s going to be a big one.  Bless whoever was in attendance for that, because I’m sure they left with plenty of stories and pictures.  I hop into a couple panels, a lot of which are surprisingly empty.  I then see that there’s a panel going of which I’m rather curious....

FEMINISM.

So for those not in the know, Tumblr can be known for having a particularly...misandristic attitude.  I needed to see this panel for myself, to see if that was going to be on display at this panel.  And on the way there, I ran into a friend of a friend.

So this guy cosplays as Jesus.

Granted, he wasn’t cosplaying then, and I believe that was the first time I had actually seen him wearing normal clothes, but either way, he wanted to hang out.  I told him I’m on my way to the feminism panel and he was so in.

All right, there were two highlights to my time there at DashCon -- meeting Doug Jones...and this panel.

Because.

DUDE.

REAL HEROES.

I cannot say enough good about this panel, and ladies, whoever you are, you were amazing.  The folks who ran this panel were incredibly even-keel, they were definitely not the “kill all men” types that so many associate with Tumblr (though I suspect a couple in the room were, including a lady in front of me), were well spoken, and were very knowledgeable.  Granted, I got in towards the end of the panel, but what I was incredibly impressed by what I heard in there, including the ramifications of the then-recent Hobby Lobby ruling.  All brands of ladies were represented in there, including a hijab-wearing lady who reinforced that feminism is about having the freedom to do with your life as you like.  At one point, a guy had a question about why birth control is so important, the forum-holders quickly quelled the mild room eruption, and answered his question in full.

I’m a feminist myself, and to see in-person social justice portrayed intelligently and knowledgeably, and in a well organized forum (instead of the sometimes cartoonish, stereotypical “SJW’s”) was amazing to me.

Seriously, whoever you ladies were that held this, I wish I could shake your hand.  Thank you for doing what you do.

Anyways, after that, I meandered about a bit more, and word was getting around that things were pretty shaky at the con.  I had heard about the craziness of the previous night’s fundraiser, plus there were plenty of signs around me that were symptomatic that things weren’t going well.

I have to stop and give kudos to the staff here, because despite everything...they pressed on.  They were running a convention that was falling down around them, they knew it, but they held their ground.  Props to ‘em.

Anyways, I found little else that really interested me (aside from finally sitting in the now-empty ball pit, just to say that I did it), and decided to head out a bit early, so I could have a nap before that evening’s work shift.  The sun had come out by the time I had hit the road, and...that was that.

It was only later that I learned that the convention had garnered the infamy that it did.  I’m happy that I got to go and I’m very thankful for what I experienced.  It was far from a well organized convention, but that mess has been well documented plenty of other places online.

Anyways, so that’s my experience with DashCon.  I just wanted people to know about the good that was there, instead of just its reputation of...well....

[elizabethleslie7654]

Modern Men: Shells of Their Former Glory

all kinds of cool jewelry and no shipping or getting mobbed t the mall

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Check out Part One in the series if you haven’t read it already.

Men in the modern age retain some of their previous glory of times long past, but only in small, isolated, and largely separate (think completely outside of or only retaining tangential connections to) current society. These men are the infantry and special forces troops, loggers, factory workers, etc in 90%-plus male professions that retain (by necessity) some of their masculine traits and culture. These are often lower paying jobs, or at least jobs that aren’t cushy six-figure air-conditioned office (re: soul sucking) jobs. However, men as a whole aren’t so lucky.

Men are largely trending in a negative direction in many ways. Firstly, it has been a recent topic of discussion that men indeed are becoming bigger and bigger pussies over time. It isn’t just your Dad being a hardass. Recently discussed on Tucker (Fox) and throughout other sources, men’s testosterone levels have been dropping steadily for decades. If you’ve seen the “try guys” at Buzzfeed, who I would argue adequately represent a large swath (plurality?) of our current western society (and other developed nations, re: Japan, etc), had testosterone levels that are lower than that of men near death at age 80. In fact I have a family member near 70 who had total T levels near 100 ng/dcl higher than the highest Buzzfeed guy. Fucking degenerates. But also it’s unclear if any of the blame lies with these men. Do they lift weights? Are they vegan (faggots)? Do they have any masculine influences that may help them raise their T? Were they fucked at birth due to genetics? I am unsure on this issue, but am sure that the blame that lies with them is not 0%. However I do know that the advent and almost inescapable use of plastics is also not 0% to blame. Plastics are everywhere and are undoubtedly responsible for some of the decline in T because they have chemicals that cause a disruption in the natural testosterone levels of men. Soy production has largely increased in recent years and also shares some blame (not 0%). I would also argue that a failure to eat meat by some men or families may also contribute to the problem. The increasing difficulty of men to succeed in increasingly feminized schools (more on this later) is also contributing to this problem, as it is shown that men who make less than their partners (which is more likely as women continue to be lifted up in school, college, and corporate America) mark a drop in their testosterone. I would also argue that a loss of the male competitive (re:masculine) spirit is to blame as well, via competitions between men raising testosterone. If men were encouraged to compete via inter and intra-group competition, I whole heartedly believe we would see less of a decrease in masculinity and testosterone, and as a result a much healthier society in many ways.

Because men are trending in a negative direction both biologically and culturally (via castration of the masculine spirit) many are no longer able or willing to resist the more destructive elements of our society that warp perceptions, traditions, and allow for subversion of 100s of years of success and 1000s of years of breeding and family lineage. This may be due in part to the failing polarization of women, creating women that are more androgynous or even masculine presenting than many men. As women become less of a prize and motivation to conquer foes, explore the unknown, and risk it all, we see less men willing to do so (and as a result, women further become less polarized creating an awful feedback loop). And I honestly don’t blame them. I encourage all to fight against it, revolt against this modern world. But needless to say I understand if they choose not to. It is very difficult to fight for and prepare for a person, situation, or moment that, with every passing day, seems less likely to come. However, we must not lose hope and must continue to re-forge a path that was lost or forgotten well before we took our first breath.

Men have lost their ability to express affection for other men for fear of being called gay through a conscious and concerted effort. While I do not support homosexuality, I do feel as though masculine friendship, which is capable of bonding on levels that women are incapable of comprehending, is beneficial to both the individual man and society in ways that are so long lost they are difficult for someone like me (who has only seen a glimpse of what I imagine it was like) to truly comprehend. I once read a biography on Lincoln, and he was cited as consistently expressing literal love for one of his pen pals. I do not long for this time again but rather wish to illustrate that efforts have been made to limit the bonding of men into groups (specifically white groups) from forming because an atomized (see lonely and addicted to drugs) society is easier to control. Make no mistake, some of this is by accident, but largely it is by design.

There has been a concerted effort to feminize, delegitimize, and biologically castrate (re: dropping sperm counts) men at both the societal and individual level. When this started is unclear, but at the very least it began in part when men allowed (yes, they allowed, as they were the only ones who could vote at the time) women to gain suffrage. This was truly the beginning of so many woes of our society. A very easy, non-controversial point that can be made about this is that government spending immediately ballooned (and hasn’t stopped since). The problem that women’s suffrage caused is that it has plunged our country (and the world really) on a journey that is being steered by radical and suicidal empathy. Men are naturally more rational and more logical, as well as more capable of handling the stresses of the world. This is the way God designed them. He designed them to provide, protect, to project the future and plan for it. He designed them to be hard and heavy handed (when needed) and to keep his children and women in line to ensure their safety and the continuation of the generations after generations of knowledge that had been earned through blood and sweat. Because men (most of them) do need to exist in society they have had to conform to the newly ingrained standards that are largely feminine (re: care based morality). This blue-pill conditioning starts at a young age.

Many men are largely even unaware of their conditioning, but make no mistake, they are under the guise of it. Even those well down the red-pill rabbit hole are still undoing the conditioning they’ve endured through largely feminized schools (both in structure, culture, and literal composition with approx. 70% of school teachers being women) and an over-emotional, feels-based society. But sadly even those who have begun their deconditioning will find that society writ large will actively fight and punish you for simply noticing. Notice that men are usually better at certain things? Sexist. Notice some races commit disproportionate amounts of crime? Racist. Heaven forbid you mention race and IQ you white nationalist.

These listed problems are problems with men because men have traditionally been and are designed to be the arbiters of frame (a dictation of reality) both in the micro and macro. Men have truly lost the frame on nearly every level. The only acceptable masculine sphere allowed anymore is that of hookup sex in which men are still allowed to measure their manhood via any yard stick (notch count). However, if you desire to step into a relationship (re:marriage), have kids, and want your daughters to be better than the 10’s of Stacy’s and Becky’s you (or another Chad) ran through, you’re suddenly a controlling misogynist for desiring to limit their degeneracy. Women used to be dismissed, and rightfully so, as hysterical (the root of the word was from Greek meaning uterus) and hyper emotional. We used to acknowledge that women had different (not always bad) ways of thinking and reasoning. It used to be obvious that a man was better for work and battle than women. And conversely, we fully acknowledged women’s clear advantage in regards to infant and child rearing (and homemaking). Why would women give up a free ride (re:stay at home mom) for the corporate grind? I am convinced that this has also been a concerted effort. But regardless I see men as responsible for retaking the frame because they are intended to be the leaders and are less susceptible to the propaganda that is bombarding people at all levels of society. If we are to have any hope moving forwards, it must be men that lead the charge. However, this process won’t be easy and it won’t happen quickly.

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[theexistentialistdancer]

The Qawa

If you drive around anywhere in Egypt, you will see small cafes literally everywhere. These could range in size between a few plastic chairs on the street with a table between them, or even a trash fire with a teapot on it, to a full scale operation that takes over the whole street and the median as well. Despite the size range, a few things are consistent between all these coffee shops, or “qawas” as they are called: they are 99% all male spaces, they serve tea and coffee, and they have shisha. Occasionally you may see a stray female in qawas, but this is extremely rare.

 Qawas also operate all night long. Here in Egypt, it is unusual to see groups of females out without their husbands after 2 AM, but men have the freedom to hang out in the street all night long - and they do. The fact that men are out in droves like this is part of the reason women are not; it becomes a dangerous place at night when there are no other women around, and with a population of over 20 million in Cairo and Giza, young men will take advantage of the cover of darkness and high population to harass and sometimes assault women.

 So what happens at qawas that make them so appealing to men? First, they get to be out and spend a very small amount of money. Second, they get to play games and be social, and backgammon and dominos are extremely popular here. Third, the night air and hanging out with so many other men means that business meetings can be very productive in this environment; everyone can brainstorm together, talk about what other people are doing to make money, and generally plan all kinds of schemes that may or may not ever actually happen. Finally, there are no women allowed.

 The bit about no women being allowed at qawas is the part that drives me mad. Coming from the USA, having a MSW with a focus on violence against women, and being a feminist, I want women to be able to freely move anywhere they wish. We have mostly banished the days of the “He-Man Women-Haters Clubs” in the USA, and women have fought long and hard over the years to gain access to most spaces. Why do the women in Egypt put up with this? Why don’t they make their own qawas that are all-female spaces, don’t women in Egypt want to be out all night as well? I know I do. I love sitting at cafes all night, and I love midnight brainstorming sessions. I am naturally a night owl, so I get all kinds of benefits from hanging out with other people into the wee hours of the morning. So let’s explore this cultural norm a bit further.

 What I Have Learned about Feminism in Egypt

 Traditionally, Egyptian culture is set up where men are the sole money-makers. Women will get college degrees and whatever, but culturally, Egyptian men feel like they should be able to earn enough to fully support the family 100%, and any extra money the wife might make is hers to spend. Families with daughters ensure that the future husbands can do this too, by requiring that they provide a large amount of gold, a flat that is completely finished, and providing evidence that he can support a family. This actually makes it very difficult for Egyptian men to get married, but that is a topic for another day. Since society is set up to make the women completely free from outside work, Egyptian women have lots of time for themselves aside from raising children and taking care of their house (in an ideal situation, she will hire a live-in nanny who may be be a divorced woman, and/or have a house cleaner as well). These women also have LOTS of time for interpersonal drama and discussing the community. I like to joke that if you pass gas in your sleep, the whole city will know about it before you even wake up. This set-up is the culturally expected dream for women: acquire a husband who can pay for literally everything and anything you want and makes your life easy. The thing that throws me off as a intensely independent, driven, educated women is that a large percentage of Egyptian women LIKE society this way. They DO NOT want to work, and are perfectly content with their husbands doing everything for them. A lot of them do not even want to leave the house to get groceries or anything else, so they just order it delivered. Many women in local areas wear some level of the hijab, and they would also rather be a home where they can wear whatever they want rather than having to put a ton of clothes on to go sit in what is essentially the street, so they have parties in their homes instead. While women in the Western world have fought long and hard for the right to work, Egyptian women appear to not want to be bothered by it. If they divorce, their ex will still have to support them and their children, and they still have their parents to help them. The family structure here is generally very strong.

 This is not to say that women do not ever work here, it just means that it gets to be a personal choice. In local areas like the one I live in, it is rare for a woman to work and additionally, culturally it is embarrassing for a father if his daughter works because it means he cannot provide for her. This puts a lot of stress on men, since Egyptian women are socialized to be obsessed with money. It also means that men have to be constantly searching for ways to make more money, since they have a ton of demands on them, and so they have to go meet with other men to find extra hustles.

 With so much free time on their hands, women have lots of opportunities to imagine that their husbands are cheating on them (often they are, but that is another topic). If their husband goes to a community space that allows women, like a regular cafe, then chances are they will encounter women who are working in prostitution or looking for sugar daddy relationships, and the wives know this is reality. On the same note, the wives don’t want to go to cafes with their husbands; there is a huge culture of pretentiousness here and wives often act like they are too good to be seen out in public in a “low class” place like a cafe. Husbands also play a role in this, as they want everyone to believe their wives are the goddess Isis incarnate and therefore cannot be seen out in public. There is an extra layer of childishness here too, as wives often “tattle” on their husbands to their fathers. Once the couple fights, the wife will run to her father and tell her father how her husband took her to a nightclub or a cafe, thus making the divide in the relationship bigger.

 Therefore the qawa is the perfect spot for men. It is empty of women, as there are no women working in prostitution there for their wives to get mad about. It is often a semi-open space in the street, so at any time the wife could go check on her husband simply by having a driver pass the qawa and look for him. Men can hang out there all night because it is open all hours, and they get a reprieve from work by playing games but can also handle business meetings there. It is cheap and there are many of them around, so there is almost certainly one right outside their house. Egypt is a boy’s club, and the qawa is the epitome of it all.

 As a result of the culture differences, my anger at not going to the qawa is justified from an American point of view (what do you mean that men cannot behave while being around women?), but does not change the reality that I will likely never go to one. In fact, as an American, I automatically have a reputation in Egypt as a sex-obsessed woman, so if I go with someone to a qawa I will definitely get harassed and I will disturb the carefully-achieved balance that Egyptian men and their wives have established. Suddenly the qawa will not be a safe place for men where their wives trust them, but instead, my presence will mean that low-class women have invaded a previously safe space and remember, these women do not know me.

 That is the qawa situation in Egypt in a very large nutshell, as interpreted and explained to me over the course of many months by many people. This was a hard one for me to wrap my brain around, as it is absolutely ridiculous from a Western worldview as it sounds. I also want to note that my significant other does indeed take me everywhere else in Egypt, even places that men do not typically take their wives. I am extremely grateful that he is not one to conform to the rules of the culture here, but I will say that it is very difficult to have a best friend who is the opposite sex in a place that is gender-split in so many ways. There have been many times since I have been here that I have been enraged at the way that men and women cannot go some places together, or even sit together. I will cover those topics later, but this is the deal with the masses of men sitting in the street drinking tea all night long, and why exactly there are no women there.

 I do have a dream that at some point the masses of Egyptian women in local areas will realize that they can dream bigger, and hope for more, and they have it inside them to accomplish so much. However, I cannot and will not force Western feminism on to anyone, and until they decide they want something different, this is how it will remain. I am sure that Egyptian feminism would be uniquely theirs as well.

 *Disclaimer: this is not meant to be a perfect cultural explanation of every area, nor am I assuming that I am an expert on Egyptian culture or qawas. I am simply putting into English words the explanations and information I have been give by many men and women I have talked with since my arrival in Giza. I am sure that life in Egypt varies by social class, province, and region, and I recognize I am a foreigner in a place that has their own ways of living and adapting. I have my own biases and ideas and I work hard to recognize them.

[vent-and-lint]

Why I need Feminism

Trigger Warning: Rape, Self Harm, and Suicide.

At the age of 4 my father allowed his brother and his brother wife to stay with us. My father said ‘Family is family, we can’t turn eachother away’. I don’t rememebr much from that age but I remember this day vividly. My father, mother, and aunt were all at work. My fathers brother was unemployed. My three siblings were all at school. I was in my room I shared with my sister, innocentallly playing with my dolls. My fathers brother walked in the room, shiutting the door and pushing my ‘book shelf’ in front of it. He said it was just incase my dad came home early. He cornered me in the room and told me this is how uncles love their neices. I was four years old and I was too afraid to tell my father cause I didn’t want to make him mad at me and ruin my uncles life. I was four years old when my uncle raped me.

A few years pass and I’m now 6. My best friend at the time skipped school for two weeks. When he came back, I asked why he was gone. He broke down crying on the playground. On the blue swirly slide that the kids didn’t like playing on because it was directly under the sun and it got to hot during the day. My friend told me that is baby sister said he loved him a lot. He said he loved him so much, he wanted to play a game. He told me how he bent him over his knee and touched him in places that made him hurt real bad and he started bleeding. He told me that he made him touch him in places he didn’t know could look like that. My best friend that was older then me by five months, was molested by his babysister at the age of 7. He told his parents, and they told him he had an over active imagination. He stayed home for so long because he thought if he went to school, everyone would know and laugh at him.

I’m 8 now and I still haven’t forgot. I still feel dirty and I still hate looking in a mirror. I haven’t touched a barbie in four years, and I hate the smell of a freshly vacuumed carpet and cheap laundry detergent. I’m laying in bed asleep one night, when I’m woken byy a cold body pressed against my warm one. My Polly Pocket pj pants are no longer on my body and my face is pressed into my Hannah Montana pillow. I try to pull away, to look at who is violating me, but a hand presses my face down and groans. I lay limp and afraid as my brother pulls his pants back on and leaves the room. I specifically him tunring out the hallway lights and walking back up the stairs. The next day, I’m hesitent tto tell my mother as we get rid of some of my old clothes. Once I tell her, in perfect detail, she tells me that’s impossible. She tells me, he wouldn’t do that, I shouldn’t even know what the word rape means. This happens about twice a night, every week, until I turned ten years old. The brother who was supposed to protect me, the brother I wass supposed to trust, betrayed the one thing that should come natural for him. He sstill acts like it never happened. And I’m to scared too approach his 6'2, 185 pound self about it.

I just turned 11 when my sisters best friend came crying to me that her boyfriend held her down on the bus ride home and forcfully put his hands inside her. She triedd to get someones atttention, but they sat at the back of the bus, where no one could see, because he conviced her that thats where all the cool kids sit. I held her while she cried and told her my story. Shhe told me by brother would never do that, and I’m lying to try to one up her. I went home and cried myself to sleep because I thought It was my fault.

I’m 13 now and my new best friend got drunk and woke up naked in an unfamiler bed. She had bruises up and down her body and called me to come pick her up. I had to ask my eldest brother to drive me there, lying about why I had to pick my best friend up at 5 am on a Sunday morning from the bad part of town. Two week past and we skipped class to take a bus to Plannned Parenthood, where she has to get tested. We sit in the plastic waiting chair, praying to god she isn’t pregnant, because she would never get an aborton, and her parents would kill her. She was raped, and she was too scared to tell her parents, because they would ground her for going to a party in the first place.

I’m 14 now and my adopted sister who went off to college is home for the weekend. I’m having yet another nightmare, when she wakes me up, tears in her eyes. She tells me she had a bad dream and begs to sleep by me. I ask if she was okay, and she broke down in my arms. She went to a college party, refusing to drink. Until she was offered a soda. She accepted. At 3:37 the next morning, she woke up in a strangers arms and she couldn’t find her dress. I held her while she cried until 5 in the morning, then she spent two hours in the shower, scrubbing her skin till it started bleeding. She was raped by a stranger, and they couldn’t catch the guy. He got away clean, while she was left with Herpes.

I’m fifteen, I’ve look in so many rape victims eyes that It makes me cry. I’ve applied make up to girls eyes to cover the dark circles from the nightmares and bruises. I’m to scared to walk around the mall alone and I’ve tried to kill myself 7 times now. I can’t be near lavender, or Old Spice body spray. I still get nightmares and anytime old loud noise makes me jump. I can tell which family member is which by the way they come down the stairs and I start to panic when my dog pushes my dor open at night, making the door squeak. I get panic attacks when I’m catcalled, or simply trying to pay for my McDonalds and a man is standing behind me in line.

I’m a feminist for all the people without voice around the world who can’t speak up. For the little girls that haven’t had their first period and are already married to a man. For the little boys and girls who get beaten and raped everyday. I'mm a feminist because I don’t want to look into another friends eyes, and see them mirror the same pain as mine.

[theconservativebrat-blog]

Just some thoughts

Sometimes I feel like I was born to be a loner. I know I have my family and what not, but when it comes to making friends, I have a hard time. They either turn out to be fake, or we don't really have much in common at all aside from us both having kids or something. Like most women love to shop and wear makeup, etc. Where as I don't really ever wear makeup except maybe once in a blue moon, and I hate shopping, it is actually really hard for me to spend money unless I have to or it is on my kid. Shopping for myself is really hard, although I have met some other Moms that are like that as well. I just don't feel I can relate to most people. Maybe I am cynical, or too judgmental about things, I don't know. What I do know is most things that people talk about being into I don't really have an interest in. Or my views on politics or some other things are very different. Maybe I am just not meeting the right people, I mean I see stuff online and on YouTube that show a lot of people do think like me, it's just actually meeting someone in person who does seems to be difficult for some reason. Some of my view and beliefs are hard for some to swallow, although I don't judge how others believe, nor would I shove my views down their throat; I just wish I could meet more people like me. A lot of the people I have met can be really nice people, great hearts, all around good people; I just have a hard time relating to them on some things. Maybe by posting this someone will read it and say hey we think a lot a like and I can meet someone of like mind. here are my views: Against abortion..... ( But I don't judge those who have had to make that decision provided they didn't just do it to do it and was careless when they knw better.) I think you should work for what you want in life and not expect handouts Modern day feminism is not for me, it no longer holds the truth behind feminism and what it use to be about now it seems to be a man hating fest. I think you should punish your kids bad behavior, and reward their good so they learn right from wrong from an early age. (Not beating your  kid that is just wrong) I feel if one person is working and the other is staying home the one staying home should keep the house clean, I work my husband stays home with little one and he cleans, and if you both work you should share the house work equally. Meth is bad,drinking and driving is bad, but pot is not dangerous and more lives would be better off smoking weed then drinking honestly. marijuana has a lot of benefits to health, it calms anxiety, it helps people have an appetite, when they are going through  chemo, and again is much safer then a lot of the shit out there that is legal like alcohol for instance. I don't smoke personally cause I hate the smell but I know people who do and they are good people and it helps them. never put off tomorrow what you can get done today, something I need to work on sometimes but strongly believe in. I don't hate trump, not a Hilary fan, and i don't understand why people can't just accept that he is in office and move on. I don't think it's right we deny 18 year old military hero's the right to have a beer, if they are old enough to fight for our country they are old enough to drink a beer. Now not all 18 year olds should be aloud to drink some are way to immature to handle the responsibility that com with drinking, and I know you can't have one 18 year old be aloud to go in a bar and not the other but on base where the solider lives and works it should be aloud; either that or raise the military joining age to 21. I do not believe anyone should be abusive to anyone, but I do believe if you throw the first punch, (like a really good one) then you should be prepared to get punched or hit back, weather you are a man or woman. we see cases of women being beat by their partners all the time and yet we fail to realize that it does happen to men as well, they are just less likely to come forward cause they feel no one will believe them or its a pride issue. We need to take a stand against all domestic abuse not just on the kind towards women but towards men too, because you may not hear about it but it does happen. I don't think the color shirt you wear defines your gender, a color is just a color. I don't think you should be able to get a sex change just because you feel you are not what you were born as. It has been proven that not feeling you are the gender you in-fact are is a mental health condition called gender dysphoria. I get not liking who you are or feeling uncomfortable in your own skin, but to go to the extremes as plastic surgery without at least getting some kind of help from a professional to help you better accept yourself is not a good idea. Not to mention all the health issues you could have later on because of such a surgery. We all have things that we would like to change, but if we learn to love ourselves and accept the things about us we shouldn't be able to change or can't change, we would all be a lot happier for it. This fat girl pride stuff I think is annoying, and I am a fat girl saying this. Loving yourself is great, knowing your beautiful no matter your size also great, but refusing to loose weight or try to get healthy isn't good. so many risk to our health come along with being a bigger person. Back pain, shortness of breath, not being able to have as much energy or stamina as we would like because we are out of shape, heart problems or blood sugar issues and blood pressure. there is a lot of risk in being over weight. Losing weight is hard believe me I know been trying for awhile now, but not trying to loose it at all is not a good idea. giving up on getting healthier is like giving up on your life. Now I don't think anyone should bully you over your weight, bullying alone shouldn't even exist in my opinion, but don't get hurt or mad when someone who genuinely cares about you or if your doctor suggest you try to get to a healthier weight. They are just looking out for you I promise. My weight is a sensitive subject for me as well so I get it, and sometimes I just want to say fuck it, but in the end I know I will feel a lot better once i become healthier. I think all these you tube challenges are getting ridiculous and stupid. I love general hospital, I watch it religiously lol. i use to love once upon a time but it has gotten boring on the new season for me I am kind of a home body and prefer to chill out to Netflix with my daughter and husband then go out and party. Well that is all if I think of more I will add more thanks for bearing with me and reading hopefully someone who reads this feels the same on some of these so we can become friends :)

[andfeminism-blog]

Happy #womancrushwednesday everyone!

This is Mackenzie and it’s my absolute honour to introduce you all to her today! Her passion for everything she loves is completely inspiring. She is smart, strong and open minded. She’s madly in love with all things spooky, musical, and her two ridiculously adorable nephews. She cares so deeply about others and the love she has for those around her is so obvious and heart warming. Take a peek into her life below! You can follow Mackenzie on Instagram here.

Tell me something you’re grateful for, what makes life good? I have always reveled in the simple things in life. A movie night with my family, a fresh new day planner, sitting on my deck in the morning with a hot cup of coffee, or even clean bedding can make me feel thankful and grateful for the life that I have. I like to think that my heart is wide open and I have so much love to share. Like everyone, I have my bad days- but I let myself feel those raw emotions, practice self care such as meditation or deep stretching, and jump right back into my positive mind set. I have been practicing mindfulness recently, and have learned that taking a moment to stop, reflect and slow my breathing can do wonders for my attitude for the rest of the day. In summary- I love the life I am living!

Who or what inspires you? People inspire me. One of my favourite things in life is learning about people and their passions. I could listen to someone talk about their life for hours- even if I don’t know them on a personal level. I have always identified as an empath and connect very deeply with humans and animals alike. A lot of the things that make me feel inspired I have plucked from other people, to be honest! For example, my boss had my coworkers and I pick one word for 2018 that represented some goals we wanted to obtain this year. My word was “Accountability.” I began to realize that everything I was saying when I presented my word also correlated with things I wanted to work on in my personal life. I have that same word hanging from a bulletin board in my room at home to remind me of my goals for the year.

What makes you feel safe? The easiest way I could explain this would be with one word: confirmation. I have diagnosed GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) and tend to worry about and over think almost every situation that happens to me. I double and triple check I have my personal/work schedules correct, that I have understood conversations correctly, and that I have explained myself correctly as well. Sometimes I’m sure it may be a bit annoying to be on the other end of me saying, “So you promise I didn’t offend you when I said that?” 3 or 4 times, but it helps me feel safe and sleep soundly knowing that I have been as thorough as I could, and outside of that there is nothing else I could of done differently.

What are you passionate about? I am passionate about so many things. I am passionate about my career and the crucial work I do (early childhood education), I am passionate about the human race and progressing forward while recognizing our mistakes in the past, I am passionate about music, I am passionate about saving our mother earth and limiting my plastic usage and buying local whenever I can, and I am passionate about the people I hold dearly and strive to lift them up and celebrate their successes.

Do you have any regrets in life? It may be a bit cheesy, but I don’t think so. You can always turn those “not so smart” choices into teaching moments and learn and grow from your mistakes. I don’t think I would be the woman I am today without a few road blocks and “bad” decisions!

What is something you’ve struggled with in life? What has it taught you? Until recently, I really struggled with having close friends who weren’t an open book like myself. I have two close friends who are quite private and do not share much about their personal life. For years I took it as a slight against me, that they didn’t trust me enough to open up. I began to close up myself and we inevitably drifted apart. It took me up until this past year to realize that not everyone is as comfortable sharing as I am, and I need to stop taking it personally and reach out to them. Since then, both of those friends have opened up to me in their own ways, and all it took was less prodding and guilting and more of “I am an open door if you need it.”

You work with kids, what made you decide to get into that? What’s the best thing about it? My mother ran a daycare in our home from the late 80’s until 2000. She decided shortly after to go back to school to obtain her Early Childhood Education Level 3 Degree. She took classes and worked in the university daycare while having 3 kids at home. After graduating, she worked at numerous centres, holding positions like floor lead, room supervisor and assistant director. In June 2017, she took over the director position at a daycare and had reached an important milestone in her career. Throughout her journey, I observed and learned how important the work she did was to the families in our neighbourhood, at the university and in those centres. In 2013, she asked me (knowing I was not happy at my current job) if I would like a summer position at her daycare. I hopped on it, but never thought it would lead into a career. In those 5 years I have also obtained my Early Childhood Education degree, worked as a nanny, worked in daycare centres and early learning centres, dabbled on the admin side of a daycare, worked at an emergency receiving home, worked as one-on-one support for a child with special needs, and now at my current position I supervise and operate a before and after school program at one of Regina’s biggest elementary schools. Building a bond with the children and their families is the fire that ignites my passion. Hearing things like, “my child has grown so much since they have been here” or “we can’t thank you enough for your dedication to our child” is the sole purpose I do what I do. I plan to continue educating how important those first 5 years are, and lifting up myself and my fellow ECEers to a higher standard- #weareNOTbabysitters !

What does a typical day in your life look like? If you asked anyone around me, they would probably laugh and say I am super busy and live out of my car. They are half right- but I hate the word busy! I try to use “productive” in it’s place. I work from 6:30-9am at an elementary school, and then depending on the day I either head to my work’s central office to do a few hours of admin, or take care of my nephews and get some much needed hugs in! I head back to my job for the after school program which runs from 3:00-6:00pm. In the evenings I work casually for a home builders company and sit in show homes from 7:00-9:00. Sometimes I work every day a week for the builders company, and sometimes I work once a month. I really enjoy it, as it gives me time to catch up on any computer tasks I may have. If I don’t work the show homes, I usually make plans to see my family or friends, or head back to my home that I share with 2 great roommates. On weekends I start my days off slow, drink lots of coffee, watch movies, listen to records, thrift shop and hunt for garage sales. I love all things vintage and previously loved.

Are you a feminist? Why do you think that word weirds people out? I believe in this day and age, there is no reason for anyone to not identify as a feminist. Equal rights and empowerment for all women? Sign me up! I would absolutely define myself as a card carrying feminist. I think it weirds a lot of people out for the same reason that religion or mental health can. Unless you’ve got your finger on the pulse or are really passionate about something, you may tend to only see the extremist side of things online or in the news. Some people seem to tie the word “feminist” with malicious man hating, which at least in my definition, is not the case. The more we can educate and spread awareness that we ALL need feminism, the more progressive steps we can take as a whole to support our mothers, sisters, friends and daughters.

You go to Calgary Comic Expo every year (and never visit me), what’s it like? Why do you go? Who’s your fave person you’ve met there? I absolutely love going to the expo, but in all honestly it is incredibly draining. Tons of people, tons of visual stimulation and tons of loooong lines! I’ve learned my lesson the hard way and only go in small chunks throughout the day rather than spend the entire day there. It is all very exciting, don’t get me wrong. I love the panels and meeting some of my pop culture idols. My favourite person I have met so far would have to be the grandfather of zombie flicks, Mr. George A. Romero. He was so gracious and genuine, and we had such a motivating and inspiring chat. He told me it was because of people like me that he never stopped making movies- the hardcore horror junkies. I’ll never forget his warm handshake and thoughtful words. I was heartbroken to hear of his passing last July, and to honour his memory I have began my own Halloween tradition that I actually borrowed straight from him- making chili for Halloween supper. I hope my recipe can hold a candle to his!

You love music a lot. What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to? What made it the best? Oh boy, do I ever. If I could take road trips to see bands every single weekend, I would! Chalking it up to my favourite though? That’s a tough one! If I really had to choose, it would be when I saw Matthew Good in his own stomping grounds (Vancouver) on November 13th, 2015. A few hours before we were set to see Matthew perform, our news feeds were flooded with headlines about the Paris attack when another favourite band of mine was playing, Eagles of Death Metal. I was upset, furious, and heartbroken. How could I go to this show tonight after hearing what had happened in Paris? How disrespectful would that be? I just saw EODM play 2 months prior to this. After some serious consideration, we headed to the venue dragging our feet. We drove over 18 hours for this show in snow storms, we have to go.. right? Matthew put on the best show I had ever witnessed. This was my sixth time seeing him, and it was like the first time. I cried for the first two songs, which happened to be two of my favourites. Before he went into the third, he stopped and talked about the Paris attacks. He said that we are here tonight to mourn and acknowledge what had happened, but we are also here to stand up and come together as music fans and not let some disgusting people take that away from us. And you know what? He was right. I danced the rest of the night away with an aching heart for the music fans in Paris. That night forever changed me.

What is your ultimate goal for your personal and professional life? Both professionally and personally I want to never stop learning and growing. I want to use my brain, my hands and my words for good. I don’t want my mental illnesses to define me. I want to sleep 8 hours a night and splash my feet in every ocean and watch the people around me succeed and bloom along with me. As cliche as it may seem, my goal is to be happy.

Thank you Paige for letting me open up both creatively and eloquently. You picked some fantastic questions!

                  #yyc #yycliving #calgary #alberta #canada #canadianblogger #canadianblog #calgaryblog #interview #wildwomen #wildwomenseries #girlpower #strongwomen #smartwomen #inspiringwomen #womensupportingwomen #supportwomen #girlgang #coolgirls #girlclub #earlychildhoodeducation #inspire #life #canadianwomen #canadiangirls #lifestyleblog #lifestyle #momblog #personalblog

          Wild Women: Mackenzie Happy #womancrushwednesday everyone! This is Mackenzie and it's my absolute honour to introduce you all to her today!

[junker-town]

NFL Dad, Week 16: Pay it forward

On Christmas, SB Nation’s RedZone diarist looks back on a season of football and parenting

Christmas is difficult, even if you like it. As the days grow shorter, the responsibilities mount. You need to buy more gifts than is financially responsible. Buy and decorate a tree. Purchase and send Christmas cards. Arrange travel during the most difficult season to travel. And if you’re a parent, there’s a whole other slew of things to be bought and baked and dropped off at school.

Perhaps you are the kind of person who buys gifts throughout the year, then labels and stores them in a logical place. Maybe you can come home after a long day of work and crank out 30 Christmas cards while listening to Bing Crosby. I am not that person. I abuse my Amazon Prime membership to get gifts delivered in time, and I still end up shopping on Christmas Eve, which is also when I wrap gifts. The holiday cards we send — kids smiling, bullet points about the family — inevitably get mailed in the days after Christmas. (They say “Happy New Year” for a reason.)

On Friday, my grandmother had a massive aneurysm near her heart. She survived surgery but lost a kidney; the doctors said that similar conditions are fatal 90% of the time, and of the 10% who survive, 90% never leave the hospital again.

And of course I hadn’t sent her card yet. I dashed off an attempt to be positive, commending her toughness through the ordeal, which wasn’t over. I dropped it in the mail, and she died 12 hours later.

She never met my kids, but that didn’t stop her from lavishing them with gifts on their birthdays and Christmas. I called infrequently and visited less. And because of who I am, a bullshit deadline artist who can’t work ahead of schedule, a nice old lady didn’t get to see a couple more pictures of her great-grandchildren before she died.

I woke up to the news on Christmas Eve morning. My wife asked if I needed a few minutes. “I think so?” I said, and she went to get the kids up. But they were attuned to my absence. My son caught a glimpse of me in the doorway, and he ran to me yelling, “DADDY! DADDY!” with my daughter in hot pursuit. I gathered them in my arms and told them that I loved them, and if they didn’t see my tears, it’s only because they don’t yet understand that I’m fallible, flawed.

I wept because I can never repay the love I’ve gotten. I wept because I can only pay it forward.

In lieu of play-by-play of Week 16 RedZone action, this week’s NFL Dad is a retrospective on the season so far.

Week 1: Tony Romo’s announcing debut

Football: Tony Romo in the announcing booth is “like breathing pure oxygen after YEARS of Phil Simms leaking carbon monoxide into my home.” Elsewhere, Tom Savage gets mauled by the Jags for six sacks in the first half, and Bill O’Brien accidentally discovers that Deshaun Watson is his franchise quarterback.

Parenting:

Quick story from the kids’ birthday party. One of the dads there had a thick orange cast on his hand. He was a bookish guy: slim, glasses, graying hair and gray beard neatly trimmed — a Brooklyn Dad like many other Brooklyn Dads. One of the other dads gestured to his cast and said, “What happened?”

He sighed. “I smashed it pretty bad at Burning Man.” A long pause, and none of us interrupted it. He added: “... as one does.”

Week 2: Sick kids and dog vomit

Football:

In Pittsburgh, Sam Bradford is a late scratch due to his knee rejecting last week’s touchdown implant. Case Keenum will start, and if I had a bookie I would put my salary on the Steelers today.

Parenting:

My daughter broke her clavicle last week. It’s a common injury for young children, not just Tony Romo. She fell out of a chair a few minutes before we had to leave for her second day of preschool, and I didn’t think it was a serious injury at the time. “We have to go! Can’t miss the second day of school!” was my thinking. I should be an NFL team doctor.

So she’s in a sling for Week 2 of the NFL season (and for the next four weeks) while my son happily toddles around the house. Just kidding! My son is battling a 102-degree fever and an ear infection. Ha HA! Let’s watch some football!

Week 3: Protests, Naps, and Guacamole

Football: The 0-2 Saints start doing wild stuff like playing defense in their win over the Panthers; the insane ending to first half of Steelers-Bears deserves revisiting; Deshaun Watson’s brilliance isn’t enough to overcome the Pats in New England; the Eagles need a 61-yard field goal at the end of the game to beat the Giants.

Parenting:

My son’s other obsession tonight — besides smashing his face into the couch — is the hokey-pokey. He’s no good at putting his hand in and shaking it all about, but he DOMINATES at turning around. He spins around in circles until he careens left and crashes into the credenza. He thinks it’s hilarious. He is correct.

Week 4: Disney Princesses are a scourge

Football: Antonio Brown gets angry and flips a Gatorade cooler; the Dolphins get shut out in London while Jay Cutler’s no-effort Wildcat play goes viral; Dalvin Cook’s season ends with an ACL tear; the Jets beat the Jaguars in overtime; the Bucs defense is so bad that Eli Manning scores on a 14-yard scramble.

Parenting:

With the exception of Moana and maybe Frozen, the rest of the Disney princesses are a scourge on parenthood. The Disney Princess Industrial Complex essentially operates like the anti-vaccine movement. No matter how many parents want to raise their daughters to be action-oriented, independent problem solvers, there’s always a nanny or a grandmother who’s pushing Sleeping Beauty or Snow White (which are the SAME DAMN STORY), and that shit spreads like the plague.

And regardless of your feelings on feminism, the message isn’t a great one to send your kids. “Got a problem? Just go to sleep and someone will take care of it.” That only works if your dad owns an NFL team.

Week 5: Apple picking season

Football: Myles Garrett gets a sack on his first NFL snap; the Browns finally get their first lead of the season (it doesn’t last); Ben Roethlisberger throws five INTs, including consecutive pick-sixes, in a blowout to the visiting Jags; Odell Beckham suffers a season-ending injury; HOOOOO-WEEEEE look at this Cassel-Cutler shootout at the half.

Matt Ufford

Parenting:

My son is up from his nap. He sleepily staggers over and throws his arms around me in a big hug. I know that doesn’t really pop off the screen as anything special, but trust me when I say my brain is FLOODED with dopamine from his carefree smile and chubby arms.

This is the bone that human biology throws to parents. “Oh, is every day with a young child the hardest thing you’ve ever experienced? FINE, bathe in the warmth of infinite love.” And all of us stupid parents are like, “Oh, yeah, that’s good. This is worth surrendering my house to childproofing measures and chiming plastic bullshit.”

Week 6: Daughter’s birthday party; Aaron Rodgers injured

Football:

The Falcons were 11.5-point favorites at home, and they lost to Jay Cutler. Gonna have to fumigate the whole stadium after that one.

Parenting:

My daughter runs into the room wearing a pink cape. She eats a tortilla chip that my son discarded on the couch. “I’m a superhero!” she says.

“What’s your superhero name?” I ask.

“HMMMMM.” She has obviously not done the groundwork on her origin story.

“Are you the Pink Crusader?”

“Yeah!” She runs out of the room, then runs back in. “I’m a superhero!”

“What’s your superhero name?” I ask again.

She yells, “The Pink Crusader!” Again, she runs out of the room.

She runs back in and stops in front of me. She casually leans an arm on the couch and says, “I’m the Pink Crusader.”

Week 7: Pumpkin flavored everything

Football:

The Bears earned zero first downs in the second half and became the first NFL team to win with fewer than five completed passes since ... the last time John Fox coached in the NFL. I’d rather have a block of cement coach my team.

Also, Joe Thomas tears his triceps :(

Parenting:

My sister had kids years before I did, and I was the typical ignorant drunk uncle when it came to her devotion to the kids’ naps and schedule. “What’s with the schedule? Why can’t the kids just power through this one time?” Because the schedule is GOD, man! The schedule is all powerful. It is the weather; it is the earth beneath your feet. Reject it and your life will be untethered from reality, a nonstop maelstrom of tears and tantrums.

Week 8: Halloween is my daughter’s Super Bowl

Football:

The Texans-Seahawks barnburner owns the late afternoon games. And while Deshaun Watson and Russell Wilson will rightly be remembered as the stars of the game, I’d like to point out that at one point Pete Carroll challenged a Wilson incomplete pass, claiming it was a fumble. The challenge was successful, and the fumble forward was good for a first down. That game was WILD.

Parenting:

MIRACLE: Both of my kids are eating their dinner without complaint or hesitation. They ignore the TV to pay attention to the Halloween book my wife is reading. Years from now, when their grade school teacher praises their attention spans, I’m gonna get up in the middle of the parent-teacher conference and do Mick Jagger’s rooster strut.

Week 9: Daylight Savings and Football Fights

Football: Julio Jones drops a wide-open touchdown in the end zone on 4th down; Tyreke Hill scores on an end-of-half Hail Mary that was 40-plus yards short of the end zone (the Alex Smith special); A.J. Green and Jaelen Ramsey are both ejected after Ramsey provokes the normally calm Green into an MMA takedown.

Parenting:

I want to make it clear that when your 18-month-old child usually naps for 2-3 hours in the afternoon, then circumvents that with a 25-minute doze before noon, you don’t just have an awake kid instead of a sleeping kid. You have a walking tire fire instead of two hours of silence. I will run for office and/or lead a revolution to eliminate seasonal clock changes.

Also, this memory would be lost forever if not for this dumb column:

[My daughter] brings over a small bowl of cashews, climbs onto the couch, and sits next to me. I say, “Oh, you brought me cashews!” as I take one, because Stock Dad is the role I was born to play. But then she feeds me a cashew, so I feed her one. And we go on that way until the bowl is empty. There’s football on TV, I guess.

Week 10: Poop. Poop everywhere.

Football: In the fantasy crime of the year, the Saints score six touchdowns on the ground while Drew Brees throws for none; rampant stupidity at the end of Chargers-Jaguars leads to overtime; John Fox challenges his team having 1st and goal at the 2, resulting in a Bears turnover. Coaching Move of the Year.

Parenting:

It’s weird the different stages kids can be at despite being similar sizes. My daughter, at age 3, is capable of having a conversation and expressing her feelings with words. My son, 18 months, understands everything we say, but is less a human than an organic chaos engine. The kid does forward-facing trust falls off stairs.

Week 11: National Interception Day

Football: Jay Cutler throws three interceptions in the first half, Alex Smith throws two against the Giants (including one on a shovel pass), Shane Vereen and Travis Kelce both throw picks on trick plays, and Nathan Peterman tosses FIVE on 14 passing attempts in a single half against the Chargers. Also, this Brock Osweiler interception is my favorite play of the year:

PICK-6-OHHH NO! Dre Kirkpatrick nearly has a 101-yard PICK-6... But fumbles inside the 5. Wow. #CINvsDEN http://pic.twitter.com/zUyPI5Q0xZ

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

Parenting:

My daughter is 3 years old and has still never seen Moana (or any movie), but frequent exposure to the soundtrack and a couple of plot points — “Moana has to save her people” — gives my daughter enough information to guide her body language, and we can see it in the way she play-acts.

When she’s Cinderella, I have to pretend to put a gown on her, and we dance together at the ball. When she’s Rapunzel, she flips her hair around; Ariel, and she holds up a scarf as a bikini. But when she’s Moana, she throws her shoulders back, struts with purpose, and thrusts her fist into the air — something she’d only previously done when saying, “I’m Batman!”

Week 12: Things fall apart

Football: Alex Smith implodes (again); Julio Jones destroys the Bucs; Broncos-Raiders is barely underway before the main event, Crabtree-Talib II: The Re-Snatchening.

Parenting:

I’m familiar with the schools of thought that say you shouldn’t incentivize potty training, and that’s how we started off, too. Then my daughter started holding in poops for several days before struggling to crank out the hardened rock in her butt, and we implemented a multi-tiered system of bribes that would put FIFA to shame.

Week 13: Christmas season!

Football: Tom Brady yells at Josh McDaniels; Eli Manning’s ironman streak is snapped by McAdoo-induced self-benching; the Jets-Chiefs shootout ends in Marcus Peters throwing a referee’s flag into the stands.

Parenting:

The kids play Ring Around the Rosie, and at the end of the song, only my daughter falls down. She looks at me from her back. “I just scored a touchdown.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

“I’m the Seahawks!”

My wife cuts in. “If you were the Seahawks, you wouldn’t get in the end zone so easily.” HARSH, WOMAN.

Week 14: SNOWBALL!

Football: LeSean McCoy carries the Bills to an overtime win over the Colts in a blizzard; Cam Newton single-handedly defeats the Vikings; the Browns choke away a two-touchdown lead against Brett Hundley’s Packers to keep their winless record intact; the Eagles-Rams heavyweight bout lives up to its billing, but Carson Wentz is lost to a torn ACL.

Parenting:

Before I had kids, diapers were the thing I feared most about parenthood. Which is stupid, because the thing you end up fearing most in the entire world is your own mortality. Diapers are fine.

That said, I just changed a diaper filled with the scent of death and campaign promises.

Week 15: Get used to disappointment

Football: Aaron Rodgers returns to save the Packers’ season, but the Panthers win to kill their dreams; Nick Foles coolly throws four touchdowns in his first start in relief of Wentz; catch rule shenanigans continue, with the ending of Patriots-Steelers the most pear-shaped; Teddy Bridgewater retakes the field to throw an interception.

Parenting:

Two- and 3-year-old kids have moods like the weather: Sometimes a thunderstorm hits, and there’s not much you can do but hole up and wait for it to pass. Eventually, the sun breaks through like nothing happened. As a parent, you feel your child owes you an explanation or apology for the 30 minutes you just lost, but you’ll get none. The weather has changed. You may as well shout at the sky, demand an explanation from the passing clouds.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Thank you for dealing with me and my kids this season. NFL Dad will be back with an especially loaded Week 17 edition next week.