Zuzu at Feministe does a fabulous job of explaining why it is harmful to women for people to launch misogynistic attacks on Senator Clinton. Well said. As one commenter on the post also said, I dislike Ann Coulter, but that doesn’t mean I don’t cringe when someone’s argument against her is calling her a “tranny.”
I participate in an online forum related to T-Tapp, and I’ve gotten accustomed (okay, acclimated) to the fairly high percentage of people who somehow think it’s absolutely necessary to wear their religion on their sleeve (in a signature line that is; religion-related posts are verboten). Yesterday, a couple folks on a thread where I’ve participated for a long time got onto politics — specifically singing from the FAUXNoise songsheet. After reading one final post that seemed to imply that the poster had swallowed the “Obama is a Muslim” koolaid (and what if he were? So fucking what?…anyway), I’d had enough and posted a brief request to cease and desist the political talk.
Okay, I wasn’t entirely innocent. I also asked one person to kindly clarify what she’d meant by “the whole ‘Hussein’ thing” (as in, the terrorists will be thrilled if BHO wins…wha???).
Anyway, a moderator posted next, more firmly insisting on NO POLITICAL TALK. She also cleaned up my post (dang, that’s embarrassing, especially since I almost deleted that part myself, duh), along with the one I quoted. She missed the ones on the previous page, but eh…whatever. In response to this verbal spanking, one of the original political-talk people replied thusly:
Allison & (other person who thanked the moderator for stepping in) -
My humble apologies if you have been offended by discussion on this thread of current issues in our country. While I don’t apologize for WHAT I said – I am sorry you and possibly others were offended at the personal opinions that leaked into our thread. I actually had thought during my typing “you know I wonder if we shouldn’t just use personal email for our thoughts on this issue to each other”To the moderators – my bad…it won’t happen again. Please don’t lock this thread on account of some of us who are passionately opinionated/concerned about the current issues of our times.
As I did say in my last post…enough said.(emphasis added)
A couple points:
I’d love to flame this person, but you know, I like the FITNESS-RELATED info I get on this forum. She’s not worth it.
]]>Ah, but you see, people might curse now, and THAT means that things are worse. Frankly, I see cursing as a minor issue where parenting is concerned. Dehumanizing other races? Minimizing the roles of girls and women? Treating people with no respect? To me, THOSE are moral issues. I couldn’t *fucking* care less about cursing.
I’ll update on the Japan trip in a bit, after I finally upload my pictures. I flew in Thursday night, and I’m finally only today starting to feel human again.
]]>Anyhoo, Sage has Feminism 101 for those who are interested:
]]>Some feminists, like Ilyka, believe we shouldn’t have to explain ourselves, and we don’t, really. Yet it might be useful in the grand scheme of things. Feel free to add on as you see fit or argue with a section or more. I’m not speaking for all feminists (see question #1), just one. It’s a start. And, sure, this could also be called “Human Beings 101” except that I’m most interested in the actions that affect women and have been affecting women for a really, really long time.
I’ve compiled the following 8 questions from a variety of ideas I’ve gathered around these parts from a few simply curious or seriously confused people…
“It’s completely understandable as a teenager to fret about your body,” she says. “It’s scary because you don’t know how it’s going to wind up. But I’m not a teenager any more; my body’s chosen its shape. I’d rather be strong than skinny for most roles.” (Anne Hathaway)
Read Kate’s thoughts on women and our need to continually be small.
]]>Yesterday was a crabby, crabby day — one of those in which I was irritable at my husband (hence no F&A part 3, oops) and throwing a pity party with a guest list of one. Well, two, really — a good friend of mine got to bear the brunt of my grumpitude. As Mike has told me before, “man, she must be a REALLY good friend.” Um yeah. Thanks, Joy.
On to the post:
Blogging for Choice Day: Why am I pro-choice?
If you’ve read me for a while, you might know that my daughter was most assuredly *not* a planned child. On January 21, 2004, I peed on a stick and immediately started spewing a litany of expletives. The first person I told was a friend in California, one who only knows me online. My first words after she answered the phone? I’m FUCKING PREGNANT. This was followed by a lot of sobbing and wailing, which I proceeded to, well…flip out.
After that fateful pee (hee hee…that was fun to type), I spent some time contemplating something I would have never dreamed I’d consider: having an abortion. You see, I’ve always considered myself pro-choice. Even if I were against the idea of abortion, per se, I simply don’t think it’s the government’s place to force a woman to carry an unwanted child to term. Now, for myself, I’d *never* have one. But I wouldn’t tell anyone else they couldn’t do it.
Yet there I was, thinking of having an abortion. My cousin (she’s more like my sister, really) had already said that she’d hold my hand every step of the way, no matter what I decided. It was certainly an option.
On January 22, 2004, I remember heading out for lunch, and stopping at Barnes & Noble on my way to On the Border for a little fajita salad (mmmm. salad.). I bought a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting (no link, because frankly, the book sucks), and wandered over to OTB. You see, it wasn’t that I’d decided yet; I simply wanted to ensure that *if* I decided to keep the pregnancy, that I didn’t screw things up in the meantime. While I sat and ate, a man walked by and commented on my reading. “Oh, we loved those books. Congratulations — it’s an amazing thing to become a parent.” Never mind that I didn’t look pregnant, and that he was making some (admittedly correct) assumptions. Instead of getting my hackles up, I found that I glowed. And I realized that I’d already made a decision, whether I’d admitted it to myself or not.
On that day three years ago yesterday, I made my choice.
When the pro-life side talks about pro-choice folks, then tend to paint them as pro-abortion. I know that in my case, nothing could have been further from the truth. I dreaded the idea. If I’d gone through with termination, I wouldn’t have told a soul, ever. It would have been my own secret. I was definitely *not* pro-abortion.
That said, every day I am thankful that I got to make a choice. There has never been a reason for me to look at parenthood as something that was forced upon me. I made a decision to become Maya’s mother, and as a part of that, I relinquished the right to resent her. It helps my own emotional health to always be able to see her as something I decided to do, not as a burden I was handed. Instead of feeling childishly put-upon, I can step up and become an adult — and the parent that I know I can become.
It’s with great pleasure that I can look at my daughter and tell her that she is the best choice I’ve ever made. I would never dream of taking the ability to make that decision away from anyone.
]]>Ha…I found this in my “who’s viewed me recently” list:
Sure you can find all kinds of guys on match, so below are some of the types of guys who you will probably find on here… (Okay, I am a smarta$$… but it’s fun…)
1. Mr. Pretty Boy: — Hey, he looks good on your arm, but you certainly can’t have a conversation with him about real things… He is usually the rebound guy, or the guy you needed for a fun night out on the town after about 8 months of not getting any…
Make assumptions about my sexual behavior much? Yeeesh. Truth is, I *have* met “pretty” boys before who actually had brains. The two are not mutually exclusive.
2. Mr. Young Guy: (aka the predictable guy)– Your girlfriends talked you into going out this this guy, you maybe even got the deer in the headlights look, because he has a nice bod, but you got him home and he was done in 5 mins., was it worth it?
See previous comment re: sex. Besides that, since when does “young” = “built”? The few times I’ve dated men significantly younger than myself (say, more than five years), they were usually the “oddly mature and grounded” types, like the one who was pursuing Economics graduate study and already had started two businesses by the age of 24. Hmmm…he *was* cute, even if he was blonde. (I’ve been thinking about my “type” preferences because of a conversation at Feministe. I have a definite preference for darker coloring for skin/hair.)
3. Mr. Clueless Guy: (aka the needy guy) — Those bad boys have been the bane of your existence ever since high school, sure it was fun to rattle your parents when you were 17, but you are a woman now & all those bad boys have broken your heart over and over… You decide to go out with this guy, but he is clueless, he is awkward at the bar, awkward with your friends, does everything you tell him to do… Hey, you might as well get a puppy it’s just as much work!
Wow, what a walking stereotype this guy seems to be. 1) I’ve never had a thing for “the bad boys.” B) The awkward guys are only work if you let them be work. And really, they can make for some fabulous friends!
4. Mr. Romantic Guy: (aka the boorish guy)– He is constantly bringing you flowers & chocolate & lighting candles during dinner. He calls you often to let you know he is thinking about you, & looks into your eyes & tells you how he feels. Wow, all that appreciation, how will you deal with it?
Hmmm. Since when is being sweet “boorish” behavior? Unless this guy is calling me multiple times per day (and/or ignores my comment that I don’t have time now, but will later), I don’t see this as annoying behavior.
5. Mr. Confident Guy: (aka the arrogant guy)– He is totally secure & sure of himself. He is assertive in public, & gives off an aura of power and control (within reason, of course) In a relationship, he doesn’t get jealous of other men; he doesn’t feel threatened by your male friends or coworkers.
Do you see what he did there? Arrogant = positive. Ah, but you, my friend might find him intimidating, and THAT is why you consider him arrogant. It couldn’t possibly be that he is arrogant. Reality to Mr. Match: there is a big (enormous!) difference between confidence and arrogance. If anything, I typically find that beneath the bluster, arrogant men are sorely lacking in confidence. Confident men are sexy. Arrogant men? Buh-bye.
Let’s chat for a few minutes to allow me to figure out which girl you are… Let’s meet for a water for 20 mins, that way we can minimize our time wasted… LOL Now wasn’t that better than your usual boring profile?
It was entertaining. I’ll give him that much. You notice how Mr. Profile doesn’t classify himself (I think we’re supposed to assume he’s #5), but sets himself up as the judge, attorney, and jury for the women he meets?
What a tool.
Update: I realized, in re-reading this, that if I were 22, and he were 24, this might be funny. It would still be inaccurate and annoying, but it might actually be more funny. This guy is 35, FTLOG. 35 freakin’ years old, and he talks like he’s 16. Blech.
]]>I think that the far right, knowing full well that pregnancy and childbirth is something the vast majority of women will experience in their lifetimes, has hijacked the idea of childbirth and mothering. It’s a great strategy: make people think that being a mother automatically keeps them out of things like feminism, thinking for yourself, or liberal thought, and you win a whole lot of women to your cause. When the far right co-opted pregnancy as a sacrament, it essentially painted all mothers with the same brush: women willing to make the sacrifices of pregnancy simply because they just love sacrificing for a higher cause, whether that cause is propagation of the species or bringing glory to God.
Wow. Very well said. Read the rest of her post: Throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
]]>A few good sound-bytes:
My identity is not defined by my parenthood, but my life is. Without a child I wouldn’t feel as obligated to work as much as I do, to avoid such debt, to secure meaningful assets, or to better myself or the world. I’m naturally one selfish wench who would rather not be bothered by real world ephemera, and I recognize that having my little one in my life makes me a better person even if he isn’t the only thing I strive for. As for other adults in my world, I hope that they have the decency to well-wish my child even if they don’t care for or love him. My parenting theory does not obligate a random adult to a stranger’s child, just hopes that they recognize that children are indeed little people who haven’t yet grown up and thus continue to make bad decisions.**
Not that I’ve turned into a philanthrope, mind you. I reserve the right to hate stupid adults.
Emphasis added. While a few commenters have taken exception to this phrase, I believe that I know where Lauren comes from here. Having a child in no way makes me morally superior to a person/woman/feminist who doesn’t have kids. In my life, having a child made me a better person. YMMV. I’ve said before that having a daughter has also made me a feminist at all — not “just” a “better” one.
In a nutshell, my theory of parenting is as follows.
Children: Little people making bad decisions.
Adults: Helping little people make less bad decisions.
Parents: Obligated to help, to the best of their ability, their little people make the best decisions they can.
This description is, IMO, worth typing up and framing. Or, if I were into that sort of thing, cross-stitching and surrounding with hearts and flowers to hang in the kitchen. (But that’s not my bag, baby.) I’m fond or telling people often, “I don’t see my responsibility as being to raise a well-behaved child. My job is to raise a highly-functional, emotionally healthy adult.” That just leads back to the same point: a parent’s job is to help a child learn to make good decisions (as the child is able and it’s age-appropriate), so that the child can make good decisions solo in the future.
Anyway, here’s the post: Little People with Poor Deduction Skills.
Take a look at the comments. They get a bit heated at times, but I largely find myself unoffended by them, more just informed to others’ perspectives. To the comment thread, I add my thoughts about assuming kids to be brats based on prior experience. (ZuZu talked about this one, and I don’t blame her at all. Besides, even if I did, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s completely entitled to an opinion!)
As a single parent, I take my daughter with me to many more places than most parents typically would. Simple example: I like to eat out. If I want to eat out, that usually means that Maya goes with me. Teaching her (and modeling for her) proper behavior in a public place has meant that now I can take her out even more than I used to. It’s not uncommon for one of those who glared as we entered to later approach and tell me how well-behaved she is in a restaurant. Reasons for this:
Expectations are the name of the game, folks. When/if we hit the point where Maya cannot/will not behave in an “adult” setting, she won’t go. But I feel pretty safe that she gets the basic idea so far.
Speaking of expectations, I’ll sometimes run into the grumpy kids-are-by-nature-a-pain-in-the-ass types of people while we’re out and about. Sample conversation:
I smile. It’s a habit. I’m extroverted that way.
Grumpy: How old is she?
Me: (gives age)
Grumpy: She must be a handful for you.
(Implication: kids are, and therefore your kid is, a total pain in the ass)
Me: Oh, she’s a blast. We really enjoy each other’s company, and I’m lucky to have her.
Grumpy wanders off muttering something to the effect of “just you wait.”
These sorts of conversations seem meaningless on the surface, but I consider them important for two reasons:
We will continue to wander in public places, and I’ll eternally learn what behavior is or isn’t appropriate in different places, often by trial and error. But, at least we try, and we’re not shut-ins.
]]>Men Are Just Happier People– What do you expect from such simple creatures? Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Wedding plans take care of themselves. Chocolate is just another snack. You can be President.
Screeeeeech! Brakes! A woman can be President. Just because one hasn’t, that doesn’t mean we can’t be. On the less-irritating front, the garage IS MINE. Of course, I live alone, but even if I didn’t, I’d expect equal rights. And he’d get equal rights to the kitchen.
You can never be pregnant. You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park. Car mechanics tell you the truth. The world is your urinal. You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky. You don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
Women are not mechanically incompetent. I have a brother, 1-1/2 years older than me. Of the two of us, who did all the work herself (oops, gave it away) to remodel her home? Who’s completely comfortable taking on projects — and equally comfortable admitting if she’s in over her head and hiring outside help? You got it. ME.
Same work, more pay.
Okay, you got me there.
Wrinkles add character. Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental-$100. People never stare at your chest when you’re talking to them. The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected. New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle your feet. One mood all the time.
Moody? Are you calling me MOODY? Okay, fine. I can be. But some of the moodiest bitches I’ve ever met happen to wear a penis. Moodiness rarely, in my experience, has anything to do with one’s gender, but instead with one’s mental wellness. Grrr.
The wrinkles? They add character for me, too. Pfffft.
Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about tanks. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase. You can open all your own jars. You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.
These are all so bad (as if knowing about tanks is supposed to be a good thing?) as to not even deserve comment. I know, too late, I commented. But really, people. I hate long phone calls. And I tend to travel with only one suitcase.
Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough. You almost never have strap problems in public. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. Everything on your face stays its original color. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades. You only have to shave your face and neck.
You can play with toys all your life. Your belly usually hides your big hips. One wallet and one pair of shoes — one color for all seasons. You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look. You can “do” your nails with a pocket knife. You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache..
With the rest of these, it’s all about choice, choice, choice. Makeup? I avoid it, other than when dressing up. There’s no reason my face shouldn’t look natural. I happen to *like* toys. And why would I ever want a belly to hide my hips? I’m female. Hips wider than my waist are a GOOD thing.
You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.
Uh…I do this. Fine, maybe I take two hours to shop for everyone, but still, I do this. There’s a certain freedom that comes with NOT spending the entire holiday season obsessing over gift purchases, and doing it all in a single day makes it a game to me.
No wonder men are happier.
Send this to the women who can handle it
and to the men who will enjoy reading it.
What a bunch of tired drivel that I just reprinted (thus, perpetuating its longevity). Male or female, yes, we’re inately different…but that doesn’t mean that women must by definition be prissy — or that men by definition are slobs.
]]>Hugo recently posted about the LA Times’ article on the “Sausage-Casing Girls” (ie, “what was she thinking?!?”). Many of us opined what drives women to criticize and critique others’ clothing choices (and whether it’s acceptable for us to do so — isn’t feminism about choice, after all?). Today, at GFY, Jessica gave one pretty plausible explanation: for the love of god, people…stop making us uncomfortable!
In fact, it reminds me of something I once read on the subject of etiquette, which was that rules for social behavior don’t exist to control people, but rather to make everyone feel comfortable. I think we’ve all been in a situation where, say, you’re eating a cheeseburger at Hamburger Habit and the sun is shining and the birds are singing and the boy you like called you and your skinny jeans fit and all is right in the world. And you look at the table across from you, and a woman is sitting there in too tight low-rise jeans and SERIOUSLY? You can see her entire butt and thong. And I guarantee you what happens next: every girl at your table reaches back to make sure that her own derriere hasn’t made a break for it, everyone then quietly wonders if she can’t feel the draft, and then everyone can’t stop looking at her thong, but not in a hot way. In, like, a “should I TELL her that her thong is hanging out, or is she doing that on purpose?” kind of way. And then she leaves and everyone is relived.
So save us some social angst, ladies who like to flash your panties on purpose, and cut it out. Because of you, none of us know whether or not the girl at Hamburger Habit is thonging it up on purpose or not, and therefore, we are unable to decide if it would be sisterly to hand her a sweater to tie around her waist, or if that would insult her. And all we really wanted was a cheeseburger.
On a side note, the “British Pakistani Celebrity” in question is absolutely stunning, fashion choices aside. But seriously, if she really had to wear that dress, why put white panties on under it? Red for contrast, perhaps. Black for a nice blend. Nude to evoke the “does she, or doesn’t she?” question. But white? I’m perplexed.
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