I know the feeling...

I read a post today about a young girl's experience in a classroom, discussing how to prevent rape (as if there is any answer other than "don't rape"), where she felt overwhelmed by the reactions of her peers to such a sensitive topic.

It reminded me of my own experience of leaving the classroom to cry.

I was in an acting class, Actually, it was the last class of the course and we were performing our final scenes.

My scene was from the play - later made into a movie - Closer. I was the female lead and my scene partner was the male lead. If you haven't read the play or seen the movie, it contains very sexually explicit material and language. The scene we would be performing was one that contained very graphic language.

I'm not gonna lie, it was a challenge. My scene partner and I had discussed the scene to a great extent - how we viewed the characters/broke them down, their history, why they were saying these things, etc. etc. etc. We noted how we thought normal people would not talk to each other like this and, if in real life, someone spoke to us in that manner we would simply walk out.

The way the class worked was you performed the scene, the teacher would critique and give notes to assist, and you would perform it again.

We performed the scene how we would have rehearsed it. It was a very intense scene and I thought we did a great job with our interpretation.

Our instructor told us that we needed even more intensity. She wanted the argument to go beyond simple communication and she would like us to take it to the next level. She told my scene partner that, if he felt the urge to grab me, then that's what he should do.

I said "okay" wearily, even though I wasn't exactly comfortable. "That isn't what we rehearsed," I thought. But decided to go with it anyways.

We started the scene again and the intensity level grew. The instructor kept shouting things out at us while we were performing - to go to the next level, more intensity, more more more.

I began to get frustrated. And not the angry kind of frustrated. The uncomfortable, "shut the hell up while we are trying to do this" kind of frustration.

She stopped us as we were approaching the end of the scene. She jumped up and said that it still wasn't enough.

"She is pissing you off. You are getting so angry that you just want to throw her on that bed and rape her," she said to my partner.

Everyone in the class started laughing and I think someone even said "Ooooh ya!". I, however, was not laughing. Nor my scene partner. My breathing starting getting heavy - the kind of breathing where your chin starts to quiver and you know you are about to cry. But I held it in.

"Let's do it one more time." she said.

We did. We had intensity. The "throw her on the bed and rape her" kind of intensity that she was looking for.

When we finished, I stood there with a cold look on my face and my arms crossed. She could tell something was up so she asked me if there was a problem.

"Yes I have a problem," I said. "I'm uncomfortable. That was not how we imagined the scene and we did not rehearse any of the physicality that you sprung on us. Also, everyone was laughing when you mentioned the idea of rape."

At that point my chin started to quiver and my voice got shakey. "Everyone was laughing and I don't find it funny. I don't find rape funny."

At that point I could feel the tears start and I turned and walked out of the room. I left and went and cried in the bathroom.

The teacher came and found me to apologize. She said she didn't realize how that might make someone feel like that and if I was uncomfortable with the material, I should have spoken to her about it. I told her it wasn't the original material, it was how she forced her "rapey" version of the scene on us like that. Other students in the class also apologized for laughing and told me that they don't really truly think rape is something to laugh about.

That was one of the worst feelings ever. Mind you, now that I look back on the incident I think it is fair to say that some people simply laughed because they were uncomfortable - a common reaction. I know I have laughed at inappropriate things because I was uncomfortable and didn't know what else to do at the time. I don't hold it against anybody. But, like I said, I still felt shitty about it.

I was also pretty ticked that the instructor had thrown that at us. I still to this day don't see how our interpretation of the scene could be wrong. It was just different than hers. I also don't think that any sort of physicality (especially one of a violent nature) should be improvised on the spot. That shit needs to be rehearsed so that everyone involved feels safe and comfortable.

Sadly, this isn't the only experience I have like this - where people laugh about rape or how women are raped because they dress like "sluts". I have cried on multiple occasions following discussions about rape and victim-blaming. I share the same frustrations as Jamie - why don't people "get it". It's a simple concept: women are in no way responsible for their own rapes. They are raped because someone chose to rape them.

Girls Inc. of Durham is screening Miss Representation next Friday November 4th at The Regent Theatre in Oshawa!

Eeeeee! I reeeeeeeallly hope I can make it out. I am dying to see this documentary. 

Well Said!

So I came across this woman named Jaclyn Friedman quite a while ago and I love her writing.

A little bit about this woman (according to www.amplifyyourvoice.org):

"Jaclyn Friedman is a pop culture junkie and the editor of the hit book Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape.She is a survivor of sexual assault who has been a pro-sex, anti-rape activist for over 15 years, and she's become a popular speaker about sexuality and safety issues on campuses across the country. Friedman is also an award-winning writer and performer whose work has been published in outlets including The Huffington Post, The American Prospect, Bitch, AlterNet, and DoubleX. She spends her days working as the Program Director of the Center for New Words, and is co-founder of WAM!, CNW's conference on Women, Action, & the Media. Friedman is a charter member of CounterQuo, a national leadership coalition challenging the way we respond to sexual violence. You can follow her on Twitter at @jaclynf."

I have been reading her blog "Yes Means Yes". Not only is she hilarious and well-spoken, but she hits the nail on the head on many of the issues that I am interested in/care about/struggle with, etc.

So, go and read. No doubt you will enjoy.

Here is a quote from her blog entitled "Why It Matters" that I think is very insightful and just...so fucking spot on!

"Those of us who write about pop culture get accused, on occasion, of being frivolous. After all, there are more serious problems in the world than the lyrics of Lady Gaga, or the meaning of Eryka Badu's new video. But the truth is, art is one of the main ways we understand our own emotions, and connect with each other across whatever differences we think we have. And so, I for one think it matters what kind of art we have access to. Does it affirm our lives, or erase them? Does it celebrate our bodies, or judge them? Does it increase pleasure and safety, or pain and fear? If art matters, then these questions do, too."

Although I am no Jacyln Friedman, or any other pop culture analyst, I still firmly believe that the media plays a giant monstrous role in how we view ourselves and others.

A lot of the reading I do discusses media literacy. I recently read an article about actress Geena Davis and how she is trying to get the Healthy Media for Youth act passed. Levy's Female Chauvinist Pigs talks a lot about the portrayal of women in the media. And I cannot wait to see the documentary Miss Representation.

 

"In one week American teenagers spend 31 hours watching TV, 17 hours listening to music, 3 hours watching movies, 4 hours reading magazines, 10 hours online. That’s 10 hours and 45 minutes of media consumption a day."

I strongly feel as though media literacy is something that should be taught from a young age. People need to learn to question the images they are bombarded with everyday. By teaching youth to analyze and critique the negative myths that the media feeds us, they will be more aware of the effects these images have on themselves, others, their relationships, and their futures.

Imagine a world where a woman can hold a powerful position without someone mentioning the possibility of plastic surgery or the potential for PMS to get in the way of her doing her job?! In my ideal world, it would be blasphemous and unheard of to even make such commentary. If little girls start questioning the hypersexualized and unrealistic images they see at a young age, perhaps they will grow up firmly believing that they don't have to take off their clothes to be considered sexy, that they don't need to be a size 0 to be considered beautiful, or that they don't need male attention/acceptance to feel any self worth.

Maybe then we will be able to make the distinction between what we are doing for ourselves versus what we are doing for the attention or entertainment of others.

All in all, I definitely think media literacy is something that should be a part of every school's curriculum. Media affects everyone in the long run.

....could be an interesting project to delve into....

"Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. . . ."

Last week I finished reading Ariel Levy's Female Chauvinist Pigs. Legit read this book in 2 days. 

AMAZING READ. 

Loved it. It perfectly depicted the internal struggle that I feel personally as a female. 

Is this sexual liberation that I feel truly of my own accord? Or have I been fooled into believing it is for myself when really I am just a product of this media-driven misogynist culture? Is this empowerment I am feeling or do I merely feel good getting some sort of male attention?

......how would I even be able to tell? 

It's hard. I think it's very human to have a need to feel desired and receive attention. It's also very hard these days to distinguish negative attention from positive especially when we are bombarded with the message that attention to our appearance is of the utmost importance. 

If hypersexuality is seen as "anti-feminist" and hiding our sexual desires and limiting our sexuality for fear of slut-shaming is also not a good thing, then....fuck...what is there?  What is the solution? 

How do we ever know if we are doing things truly for ourselves? It's not like we stop and reflect before every action we choose or every decision we make.

Sigh. 

Anywho...read this Great Review in the NY Times.

Advice from a Fish...?

Blarghhhh.

Moving in a week and a half. Not too thrilled about it. Packing? Sucks.

The next couple of months are kind of up in the air pour moi.

Job? Do I stay or go?

Waiting on some big(ish) news for the new year *crossing my fingers*

If all goes to shit then I definitely need to sit down and fo serious re-evaluate what I am doing with myself. 

....I hate not knowing. Really grinds away at ya.

So much for that degree I spent 4 years on. Seems to me it doesn't hold much worth as it once did.

Experience? Oh, right. Experience. Hmm...Well....riddle me this...how is one supposed to gain  experience without opportunities to gain experience?

.....Just keep swimming, swimming swimming....

Bliss

"Intuition is our most basic and reliable survival skill"

I've experienced a lot of what you would call street harassment in my short life. What girl hasn't? You know - guys in cars honking at you as they drive by, whistling as you walk past, gawking and ogling you on your way to school, work, the store, FUCK just about anywhere. But on Saturday night I experienced something quite a bit different...

I was heading from my apartment uptown to downtown to meet a friend for dinner and a movie. I was somewhat dressed up (not like it matters what the hell I was wearing anyways), was feeling good, and headed into the Davisville subway station.


I walked down the steps to the Southbound platform. The platform was pretty empty. The only people I saw were at the most Northern end of the track. I had my phone in my hand and I was texting my friend to let him know I was on my way. I saw in my peripherals that a person had joined me a few feet down on the platform but I didn't look up from my phone.

Texting away, I could sense that the individual had gotten closer to me. I looked up and saw a guy standing there starring at me. He was in his mid to late twenties. It made me a bit uncomfortable but, not wanting to make him aware of this, I shrugged it off and kept looking down at my phone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the guy was doing something but still starring in my direction. Out of habit, I looked up and saw that he was still starring at me. But he had his hands down his pants.

I quickly looked away. I was in a  bit of shock and my first instinct was to walk away. So I quickly turned the corner to where the stairs are. I stood there for a moment processing what I had just seen. Maybe I was mistaken and he didn't have his hands down his pants. "Who does that out in the open?!" I thought.

I took a few steps back towards the platform and the individual turned the corner almost right into me. And guess what? He STILL had his hands down his pants. I kept my eyes on my phone in my hands, trying to make it seem like I hadn't noticed, and walked abruptly down the platform towards two men standing waiting for the train. My hands were shaking.

I stood and waited for the train but I could still feel his eyes on me. As the train approached and sped by, I could see him slowly making his way down the platform towards me. All I could think was "Holy shit please don't get on the same car as me."

The train came to a stop and I hopped on. I looked down the platform and the guy didn't even get on the train. As it sped away, I tried not to make eye contact with him as it went by.

I felt so....dirty and scared. But I was also grateful that the situation had not escalated.

And as much as I feel justified in my feelings, I can't help thinking that maybe I should have taken a different approach. After relaying this story to another person, I was told I should have shouted and called him out on it, made other people aware of what was going on, called for help. You know, kinda like that lady on the subway in NYC when that guy whipped his dick out. But...I didn't. I was frozen. I was in shock. I didn't think to do those things at the time. It's easier said than done. I always thought I would be the type to do that but when it actually happens to you, who knows how you will react. Telling some guy to fuck off as he drives past you and shouts "NICE TITS!" on the street is way easier than saying that to some masturbating pervert on an almost empty subway platform at night.
You never know what could happen.

What gets me the most about this is that I got a bad uncomfortable feeling about this asshole the minute I caught him starring at me. But I didn't want to seem rude. I didn't want to seem rude. That's fucked.

We are constantly finding reasons to excuse our instincts. "Oh I'm just being silly", we think. We put other people's feelings before our own in potentially dangerous situations. Why?! It makes no sense. Why would I care if this weirdo stranger who is giving me bad vibes thinks that I am rude? He is the one being rude by invading my personal space.


Gavin de Becker writes about this in his book The Gift of Fear. A little synopsis:


"Author Gavin de Becker says victims of violent behavior usually feel a sense of fear before any threat or violence takes place. They may distrust the fear, or it may impel them to some action that saves their lives. A leading expert on predicting violent behavior, de Becker believes we can all learn to recognize these signals of the "universal code of violence," and use them as tools to help us survive. The book teaches how to identify the warning signals of a potential attacker and recommends strategies for dealing with the problem before it becomes life threatening."

He writes that we need to trust our instincts because it never fails us. The case studies in this book are horrifying and when he talks to victims of violence, they never fail to mention that they felt  in their gut that something wasn't quite right but hushed that voice inside their heads and told themselves they were being ridiculous.


We gotta learn to trust ourselves instead of trusting complete strangers. You're feelings are justified because you are feeling them. No question about it.

Bon Iver @ Sound Academy

 

And I said I know it well

That secret that you knew
But don't know how to tell
It fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that its good girl
Cos its running you with red

Oh Ani...

Manhole - Ani Difranco

I'm holding here a book
Notable, but not the greatest
Stolen for me by the latest
In a long line of thieves
And I'm just about to drop it
Down that manhole of memories
When I realize it doesn't bother me
Like love's mementos usually do
And I look up to see who's different here
The latest me or the latest you

Course, you're the kind of guy who doesn't lie
He just doctors everything
Chooses some unassuming finger
And quietly moves his wedding ring
Who rewrites his autobiography
For any pretty girl who'll sing
But you can't fool the queen, baby
Cuz I married the king

And maybe it was I who betrayed his majesty
With no opposite reality
Like a puddle with no reflection
Of the sky or the trees
But after my dreaded beheading
I tied that sucker back on with a string
And I guess I'm pretty different now
Considering

I kissed you on the street that night
On the far side of four
But I didn't like the taste
In my mouth or yours
And ignoring the persona you wore for my benefit
For once I had the balls to call it
Just call it
But a lesson must be lived
In order to be learned
And the clarity to see and stop this now
That is what I've earned

And maybe it was I who betrayed his majesty
With no opposite reality
Like a puddle with no reflection
Of the sky or the trees
But after my dreaded beheading
I tied that sucker back on with a string
And I guess I'm pretty different now
Considering

I'm holding here a book
Notable, but not the greatest
Stolen for me by the latest
In a long line of thieves
And I'm just about to drop it
Down that manhole of memories
When I realize it doesn't bother me
And heartache not so dire
Cuz I looked up to see integrity
Finally won over desire

"I can feel his breath on my neck"

The Stupid Jerk I'm Obsessed With

Maggie Estep

The stupid jerk I'm obsessed with

stands so close to me

I can feel his breath

on my neck

and smell

the way he would smell

if we slept together

because he is the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with

and this is his primary function in life

to be a stupid jerk I can obsess over

and talk to that dingy bimbette blonde

as if he really wanted to hear about her

manicures and

pedicures and

New Age ritualistic enema cures and

truth be known, he probably does wanna hear about it

because he is the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with

and he's obsessed with doing anything he can

to lend fuel to my fire

he makes a point of standing
looking over my shoulder
when I'm talking to the guy who adores me
and would bark like a dog
and wave to strangers
if I asked him to bark like a dog
and wave to strangers
but I can't ask him to bark like a dog
or impersonate any kind of animal at all
cause I'm too busy
looking at the way the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with
has pants on that perfectly define his well-shaped ass
to the point where I'm thoroughly frantic
I'm just gonna go home
and stick my head in the oven
overdose on nutmeg and aspirin
and sit in the bathtub reading The Executioner's Song
and being completely confounded by the fact
that I can see
the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with's face
defining itself in the peeling plaster of the wall
grinning and winking
and I start to yell,
Get the hell out of there
You're just a figment of my imagination
Just get a life and get out of my plaster
and pass me the next painful situation please
but he just keeps on
grinning and winking
he's the stupid jerk I'm obsessed with
and he's mine
in my plaster
And frankly, I couldn't be happier.

My Future Child

Eliza Sayers is my new hero. And she is only 10 years old.

Her editorial addressed to Boys from around the World is...just...fabulous.

I can only hope that my future children will be as cool and kick-ass as she is.

Women in the Arts VS. Women in Mass Media

Elena Rossini 's short experimental film Ideal Women.

Check it out. Pretty fuckin' sweet. 

Hmmm....

The other week I was having a low point. You know those kind of days - you are in a sad, foul, depressing mood and you sit there rethinking everything about your life, everything you've done and everything that has happened to you up until this point. You listen to sad music even though you know it's only going to make you feel worse and you cry so hard you sound like a wounded animal but you can get away with it because no one is home and only the neighbours can hear you but you don't care because they are strangers and what the hell do they know about your life? You need someone to talk to so, out of desperation, you call your Mum who can't make out what you're saying through your sobs and the sounds of sniffing the snot back into your nose. She thinks something really awful has happened or that you are physically hurt but calms down - a little - once she realizes it's just your heart that's hurting.

Yeah, one of those moments....

So, there I was. Questioning myself as a person, my relationships with others, the whole lot. 

I sat there wondering if my feminist views were actually hindering my relationships with people - friends, acquaintances and, more importantly, lovers or boyfriends.  I have been struggling with the mentality that I need to change people's opinions on certain issues and that if they could just see things in a different light then all would be well with the world. "Isn't that what activism is all about?" I thought. If people didn't listen to me or tried to make the issue into a joke I would get overwhelmed and upset. I took it personally. How could I not? These were things I so strongly believe in. To have someone laugh in your face when you discuss issues so personal to you is like a slap in the face. It felt like someone was laughing at my own pain. I would walk away feeling frustrated and angry at the world. And this feeling would linger for days.

As I sat there questioning all of this, I happened to open a newspaper and flip to the horoscope section. And, in all honesty, here is what it said:

"Is it possible that your compulsive discontent for certain political issues is inhibiting your capacity for personal happiness?"

Ho.Ly. Shit.

Um. Yeah. I think it is definitely possible!

While I am not one who normally buys into all the horoscope-y schtuff, I truly believe that this is a sign.

I talked to Kels about it the other night and she gave me some advice that I really took to heart. It's impossible to keep everyone in check about sensitive subjects ALL the time. And, obviously, not everyone is going to 100% agree with you. I need to start thinking about Feminism in relation to ME and how it pertains to my own life - not necessarily the lives of others. Perhaps I have been too serious as of late, finding the offense in every little thing that anyone says. Geeze, it's like I've been acting like the Feminism Police! Hardcore. I need to relax. For my own sanity, I need to relax. If I don't like something someone says or if a remark or comment offends me...a discussion is a possibility but not a necessity. There doesn't need to be a lecture or a "shame on you". Sometimes, it's just not worth getting upset or worked up over.

While it will be tough, I think having this sort of mentality about Feminism will free my mind of these constant "Is this really the world I live in?" thoughts. Hells yes there are a shitload of depressing things happening every day around me. And yes, sometimes anger and outrage can be a  motivating factor in fighting for a better world. But I'd like to think staying hopeful and keeping a positive outlook will spark more change than anger will.

And this is why I use the Diva

About 2 years ago (I think...roughly...) I was introduced to the Diva Cup.

I had been using tampons and pads for years and the thought of using some silicone cup that stays inside you by suctioning to your insides seemed pretty...freaky.And painful.

But I read about the benefits of the Diva (better for your lady bits, better for the environment, etc) and decided, in spite of fear for my vagina, to give it a try.

Best. Decision. Ever.

Now I try to encourage others to use the Diva Cup by explaining the the negative effects tampons (and other feminine hygiene products) have on your body (the chemicals they contain, toxic-shock syndrome, etc.) and also by telling them how much money they will save! Think of how much money you spend on tampons and pads every month and every year. It definitely adds up. While the Diva is an investment, I don't necessarily think it is a huge investment compared to how much one would spend on feminine products monthly/annually. And just  think about all of the great things you are doing for the environment.

So, as Lu Bailey says: "Cleaning our vaginas is a multi-billion dollar industry. And thanks to pop culture's insistence that a clean, sanitized vagina leads to great sex and a happy marriage, the clean vagina business show no signs of slowing down."

Another benefit of the All Mighty Diva: stickin' it to the man by not buying into the ridiculousness of this billion dollar industry that is constantly perpetuating the myth of the "dirty vagina".

24 more SlutWalks? Hells Yea!

So.

For all of those asshats who said things like "Yeah, nobody cared about that SlutWalk thing" or "It only got 2 minutes of coverage on the news - people will forget about it by tomorrow" ...

Suck on this!

Atleast 24 more Slut Walks are in the works!

Check out this interview on Feministing with Sonya Barnett and Heather Jarvis (co-founders of SlutWalk).

This just made my day :)

yes Yes YES!!!!!!!

I'm not Crazy - I'm just an Emotional Idiot

Emotional Idiot
by Maggie Estep

I'm an Emotional Idiot
so get away from me.
I mean,
COME HERE.

Wait, no,
that's too close,
give me some space
it's a big country,
there's plenty of room,
don't sit so close to me.

Hey, where are you?
I haven't seen you in days.
Whadya, having an affair?
Who is she?
Come on,
aren't I enough for you?

God,
You're so cold.
I never know what you're thinking.
You're not very affectionate.

I mean,
you're clinging to me,
DON'T TOUCH ME,
what am I, your fucking cat?
Don't rub me like that.

Don't you have anything better to do
than sit there fawning over me?

Don't you have any interests?
Hobbies?
Sailing Fly fishing
Archeology?

There's an archeology expedition leaving tomorrow
why don't you go?
I'll loan you the money,
my money is your money.
my life is your life
my soul is yours
without you I'm nothing.

Move in with me
we'll get a studio apartment together, save on rent,
well, wait, I mean, a one bedroom,
so we don't get in each other's hair or anything
or, well,
maybe a two bedroom
I'll have my own bedroom,
it's nothing personal
I just need to be alone sometimes,
you do understand,
don't you?

Hey, why are you acting distant?

Where you goin',
was it something I said?
What
What did I do?

I'm an emotional idiot
so get away from me
I mean,
MARRY ME.


....Yeah, I can be like that sometimes...

"I don't know what to say" isn't necessarily a bad thing....

"I don’t always know what I’m thinking. I don’t believe that anyone always knows what they’re thinking. It’s important to acknowledge this, because when people don’t acknowledge it, they often simply decide to be something that doesn’t quite match up with what they want. Sometimes this works fine — if the pattern a person chooses to impose on her self can function, then who cares if it’s a perfect match? (I mean, arguably, people are always imposing unmatched patterns on our thoughts and selves.) But although this sometimes works fine, there are plenty of times when it doesn’t work fine. Or really at all."

Via.

I never know what I am thinking. I have a million thoughts going through my head at any one time, especially in a high tension situation or moment of conflict, and people have noted I often get this...pondering...sort of look on my face as I stare off into the distance, seeming absent from the here and now.

No, this is not the case. I am not avoiding the conversation or not paying attention. I am merely thinking. I am searching for something to say, sorting through the millions of thoughts in my head or feelings in my heart and gut. People push for me to say something, anything, and I just....can't. "I don't know what to say."

I've been told this is problematic, that I don't talk about my feelings and I should, that I am being closed off. And for a long ass fucking time I believed it. But then I actually thought about it: I AM a chatty, talkative person. I like having discussions and debating with people. I think the problem lies in the fact that, because I always seem to have a million thoughts at once, I'm not so great at putting my thoughts into words (well enough that my point can be understood anyways). And so when I am sitting there staring far off into the distance, I am merely trying to put in order all my unorganized thoughts and feelings on the matter so that when I DO have something to say....it won't come out a jumbled mess and I can be better understood.

To me, taking the time to think and organize my thoughts is an important process. I would like others to understand that it is not in their best interest, or my own, for me to spit something out because they want or need to hear something in that exact moment. If "I don't know what to say", then I don't. It doesn't mean I won't ever. I just need time to properly articulate what I have to say.

So, quit pressuring me. Please refrain from taking it as an indication that I don't care or that I have zero opinion or feeling.

I do. Just takes me longer than some, is all.

Warm and Fuzzy

My Little Sidekick

A new accomplice has moved in with Kels and I. Let's welcome Miss Gretchen Wilde:

 

She's cute, cuddly, and will shower you with puppy kisses and probably try to naw away at the hem of your pants.  She's got awful breathe but...she's workin' on it.