In regards to Chris Brown being a misogynist asshole, I certainly have a lot of thoughts. Typically, I have a zero tolerance policy for men who hit women, unless, of course said women are asking for it or if you've already established a safe word with your partner (for future reference, mine fluctuates between Olivia Benson and Cinnamon, depending on how I'm feeling).
I'm not going to contribute anything new to this conversation about Chris Brown and his freak out at "Good Morning America" last week. His visceral violent reaction to things isn't shocking though it is a bit disheartening. Chris Brown comes across as not being self-conscious of how he's perceived because famous rappers have come to his defense, who are often misogynist in their own right. As a society, we love an epic redemption story, and it seems that for famous men that abuse women, we give them a free pass. Chris Brown and Charlie Sheen's tiger blood exempt them from public scrutiny or backlash.
In all honestly, in the past two years, Chris Brown has been known more for hitting Rihanna than his music. Let's not forgot that his punishment consisted of community service and anger management classes, which I'm not sure are working exactly. He wasn't even sent to jail! So, if Robin Roberts, a journalist, wants to say, "Hey, Chris Brown, you haven't physically abused a woman in a while...why not?" then ask it. I want Chris Brown to be uncomfortable and dance (get it? Because he's a good dancer, guys) around the question.
The Chris Brown thing, I can turn a blind eye to, but I'm just disappointed in ABC (for the Grey's Anatomy musical episode, for canceling Pushing Daisies) but also for how they passively dealt with the situation. Instead of banning him from future shows or even publicly flogging him, they welcomed him back, letting him get away with his deviant behavior.
Chris Brown, what a droog.
I just want us to be done with Chris Brown. We have Bruno Mars now, and he only has a cocaine habit. And from what I can tell, he would catch a grenade for me instead of throwing it at me for looking at his text messages.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
It's Not Rape Rape
The H.R. 3 bill - the "No Taxpayer Funding For Abortion Act" - that John Boehner and the new House are posing as some form of legitimate legislation is certainly one of the worst ideas ever. Worse then going ahead withthe Sex and the City 2 movie? Yes, even worse than that.
I can't break down the exact facts and phrasing that this bill suggests, and Maria did it pretty well, but, like my fellow feminists out there, the fact that it redefines rape and seemingly creates some sort of terror-alert advisory system for what qualifies as rape or who deserves abortions based on rape. Or if one rape is worse than other forms of rape is scary, disheartening and brings society one step closer to making those designer hangers for clandestine abortions.
In Sady Doyle's Salon article, which articulates the repercussions that this bill has, she said something ominously honest, "It shouldn't be shocking: The goal is no abortions for rape survivors. Because the goal is no abortions, for anyone." This is just one, in a laundry list of ways, in which women's reproductive rights are compromised by someone else making choices about complicated lady issues that the hegemony (yeah, I went there) intends to simplify as much as possible.
This blog, in many ways, and rightfully so, has a major Olivia Benson boner, and it makes sense, because her story is so similar to what H.R. 3 is trying to control. Olivia, in her dark and storied history, is a child of rape and is also a victim of her own sexual-assault. Of course, I'm not saying Olivia should have been aborted. But in alternate world, we'd have to assume her mother's rape was not "forcible rape," whatever that means. Her mother was drunk? Her mother was unconscious? Her mother was 14 and her rapist was 56? Her mother was bi-polar (Does this explain Britney Spears' children?). Well, it wasn't rape rape, so we can breathe easy?
But, to take this further, to Doyle's point, we can look at the abortion doctor in Pennsylvania, whose clinic turned out to be just a house of horrors of fetus limbs, cat feces and poorly-cared for women, in what is arguably one of the of the worst-case-scenario situations for abortion-rights activists. This is not what The Cider House Rules intended, guys! Things that were found:
*Fetuses, fetal remains and dismembered baby parts — especially, for some reason, baby feet — in bags, jars, milk jugs and cat-food containers kept around the clinic, in the freezer and in the basement; some containers were stored in the same refrigerator where clinic staff kept their lunches
*Instruments that were not properly sterilized or discarded, which allegedly spread venereal disease to several patients
*Cats roaming and excreting freely in the filthy clinic
My initial reaction to reading that was shock and horror that made my gag reflex work overtime. My second thought, well, I hate admitting this because I'm a self-described radical feminist, but I thought "maybe abortions are a bad idea. EEK!" But after some contemplation, this case is the perfect example of why we need Reproduction Rights that benefit women (poor women, really, who ultimately suffer the most because of these abortion/rape restrictions), so they can get some sort of tax-funded abortions without having to die in the process. This is a unique case (one hopes), but it does make us see the lengths women will go to in order to get an abortion, and it foreshadows what H.R. 3 will eventually lead to, if it passes (which it won't). It's a slippery slope to redefine rape, and it's even worse when we can't define rape now, when victim-bashing still happens, when Ben Roethlisberger can rape girls and we, as a society, accept his excuse because "she was probably asking for it."
I can't break down the exact facts and phrasing that this bill suggests, and Maria did it pretty well, but, like my fellow feminists out there, the fact that it redefines rape and seemingly creates some sort of terror-alert advisory system for what qualifies as rape or who deserves abortions based on rape. Or if one rape is worse than other forms of rape is scary, disheartening and brings society one step closer to making those designer hangers for clandestine abortions.
In Sady Doyle's Salon article, which articulates the repercussions that this bill has, she said something ominously honest, "It shouldn't be shocking: The goal is no abortions for rape survivors. Because the goal is no abortions, for anyone." This is just one, in a laundry list of ways, in which women's reproductive rights are compromised by someone else making choices about complicated lady issues that the hegemony (yeah, I went there) intends to simplify as much as possible.
This blog, in many ways, and rightfully so, has a major Olivia Benson boner, and it makes sense, because her story is so similar to what H.R. 3 is trying to control. Olivia, in her dark and storied history, is a child of rape and is also a victim of her own sexual-assault. Of course, I'm not saying Olivia should have been aborted. But in alternate world, we'd have to assume her mother's rape was not "forcible rape," whatever that means. Her mother was drunk? Her mother was unconscious? Her mother was 14 and her rapist was 56? Her mother was bi-polar (Does this explain Britney Spears' children?). Well, it wasn't rape rape, so we can breathe easy?
But, to take this further, to Doyle's point, we can look at the abortion doctor in Pennsylvania, whose clinic turned out to be just a house of horrors of fetus limbs, cat feces and poorly-cared for women, in what is arguably one of the of the worst-case-scenario situations for abortion-rights activists. This is not what The Cider House Rules intended, guys! Things that were found:
*Fetuses, fetal remains and dismembered baby parts — especially, for some reason, baby feet — in bags, jars, milk jugs and cat-food containers kept around the clinic, in the freezer and in the basement; some containers were stored in the same refrigerator where clinic staff kept their lunches
*Instruments that were not properly sterilized or discarded, which allegedly spread venereal disease to several patients
*Cats roaming and excreting freely in the filthy clinic
My initial reaction to reading that was shock and horror that made my gag reflex work overtime. My second thought, well, I hate admitting this because I'm a self-described radical feminist, but I thought "maybe abortions are a bad idea. EEK!" But after some contemplation, this case is the perfect example of why we need Reproduction Rights that benefit women (poor women, really, who ultimately suffer the most because of these abortion/rape restrictions), so they can get some sort of tax-funded abortions without having to die in the process. This is a unique case (one hopes), but it does make us see the lengths women will go to in order to get an abortion, and it foreshadows what H.R. 3 will eventually lead to, if it passes (which it won't). It's a slippery slope to redefine rape, and it's even worse when we can't define rape now, when victim-bashing still happens, when Ben Roethlisberger can rape girls and we, as a society, accept his excuse because "she was probably asking for it."
Olivia Benson would be piiiiiiissed
According to reputable news source Gawker, the Republican-controlled House has decided to distinguish "rape" from "forcible rape" (i.e. involving violence) in a House law aimed at making permanent existing bands on federal funding for abortion.
They report:
"...The widest criticism of the bill comes in its exemptions for rape — provisions that would allow federal money or private insurance to be used to cover an abortion. H.R. 3 says those provisions would kick in only in cases of forcible rape, a distinction from other forms rape of that is largely undefined but seems to suggest that a rape that doesn't include violence wouldn't count. The bill would also limit the incest exemption to women under the age of 18 — meaning a victim of incest who was legally allowed to vote wouldn't have her abortion covered by Medicaid and would likely have more limited access to private insurance than she does today.
They report:
"...The widest criticism of the bill comes in its exemptions for rape — provisions that would allow federal money or private insurance to be used to cover an abortion. H.R. 3 says those provisions would kick in only in cases of forcible rape, a distinction from other forms rape of that is largely undefined but seems to suggest that a rape that doesn't include violence wouldn't count. The bill would also limit the incest exemption to women under the age of 18 — meaning a victim of incest who was legally allowed to vote wouldn't have her abortion covered by Medicaid and would likely have more limited access to private insurance than she does today.
The health provision would also limit abortion coverage to cases where the woman's physical health was in danger if she gives birth. That would close a supposed loophole some abortion opponents have been talking about for years, in which doctors factor mental health in health-of-the mother decisions. (You can read the entire House bill here.)"
All I can really stomach to say now is.....what ASSFACES! I'm glad that victims of rape, incest or mental illness would receive limited protection by fitting into nice, neat little demographic squares. Ladies, make sure your baby-daddy rapist breaks your nose or rib cage in the act!!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Things That Excite Me
The Feminist Art center at the Brooklyn Museum. Now featuring this whimsical exhibit, Judy Chicago's "The Dinner Party," which sets a place for iconic and historic lady figures at a triangle-shaped table. I bet if they were all really there, they'd do a lot of eating.....out. Sorry.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Things That Bother Me
This past week Ben Roethlisberger, Steelers quarterback/serial rapist, got engaged. To a (self-loathing?) woman, no less. This was, apparently, a consensual agreement between Ben and his future wife (a first for him?). However, this begs the question, how did Ben Roethlisberger, who just last summer was involved in his SECOND, maybe third, rape scandal, convince a woman to marry him. Wait, where have I seen this before...
One of the most confusing aspects of all of this is the fact that I neither have raped nor have been raped, and yet no one wants to marry me. But a lot of my anger is this lingering feeling that Big Ben does not respect women. Instead he exemplifies the patriarchy, in that he feels entitled to possess things: women, money, endorsements, Super Bowl rings, etc. And we're willing to forgive him as long as he promises to win aforementioned Super Bowl rings.
When your Google search dictates that there are more Ben Roethlisberger rape articles then Ben Roethlisberger athlete articles, you know you're doing something right!
As a feminist, which I'm qualifying for the sake of this discussion, Ben's summer indiscretions in Georgia left me reeling. What's more, it made me even more wary of how we handle (and discuss) rape in our society. The details of that night are blurry, and yet things are also abundantly clear: Something bad happened. And in light of his recent engagement and a Steelers winning season, it seems easy to forgive and forget because, well, he's winning football games!
Let's take into account, however, that Ben took advantage of a 20-year-old girl, whom he met in a bar called The Velvet Elvis. The Velvet Elvis. In Milledgeville, Georgia. This sounds like an SVU episode, except Olivia Benson doesn't stand for sexual manipulation. She will cut a bitch. No, that doesn't sound right. She would cut his dick off.
Let's go back to that night in sexy Milledgeville, Georgia, where we just left the sultry Velvet Elvis for another club in the area. Ben's victim said a bodyguard took her arm and escorted her to a hallway, sat her down on a stool (sexy?) until Ben "came back with his penis out of his pants." She told him it "wasn't OK. No, we don't need to do this," and he told her it was OK. So, by all means, it certainly must have been OK. Between Ben Roethlisberger and Brett Favre, I've dealt with enough underwhelming NFL penises to last a lifetime.
There are lot of things that anger me about this incident. The fact that people blame this girl for being drunk. For accepting shots from Ben. For perhaps being starry-eyed and excited about seeing a celebrity. These things are probably all true, and yet, that's not a defense for how she was treated, disrespected and violated as a woman. When we start subjecting women to an onslaught of criticism for social behavior, then we'll also relegating them to an inferior position, in that women don't have the freedom to make the same choices as men because it could lead to uncomfortable circumstances. This is meaningless minutia, really, and leads to a slippery slope when look to blame people in terms of rape.
The fact that we can apologize for Be's behavior, and unquestionably place him back upon his pedestal is discouraging, especially in our society, where we tend to glamorize athletes, especially when they take our Fantasy Football teams to the championship game. At times it seems that when the hubris of an athlete contributes to a proverbial fall from grace, we tend to point fingers at the victim. "She asked for it." "She deserved it." "She shouldn't have followed him into the bathroom, if she didn't want it." These don't justify his behavior, and I hope that he's reformed in a way that he can truly appreciate the rejection of women.
In the essence, of not raping a dead horse, let's just say that Ben's impending nuptials make me feel queasy. Can't we just continue raping countries and stop raping women?
One of the most confusing aspects of all of this is the fact that I neither have raped nor have been raped, and yet no one wants to marry me. But a lot of my anger is this lingering feeling that Big Ben does not respect women. Instead he exemplifies the patriarchy, in that he feels entitled to possess things: women, money, endorsements, Super Bowl rings, etc. And we're willing to forgive him as long as he promises to win aforementioned Super Bowl rings.When your Google search dictates that there are more Ben Roethlisberger rape articles then Ben Roethlisberger athlete articles, you know you're doing something right!
As a feminist, which I'm qualifying for the sake of this discussion, Ben's summer indiscretions in Georgia left me reeling. What's more, it made me even more wary of how we handle (and discuss) rape in our society. The details of that night are blurry, and yet things are also abundantly clear: Something bad happened. And in light of his recent engagement and a Steelers winning season, it seems easy to forgive and forget because, well, he's winning football games!
Let's take into account, however, that Ben took advantage of a 20-year-old girl, whom he met in a bar called The Velvet Elvis. The Velvet Elvis. In Milledgeville, Georgia. This sounds like an SVU episode, except Olivia Benson doesn't stand for sexual manipulation. She will cut a bitch. No, that doesn't sound right. She would cut his dick off.
Let's go back to that night in sexy Milledgeville, Georgia, where we just left the sultry Velvet Elvis for another club in the area. Ben's victim said a bodyguard took her arm and escorted her to a hallway, sat her down on a stool (sexy?) until Ben "came back with his penis out of his pants." She told him it "wasn't OK. No, we don't need to do this," and he told her it was OK. So, by all means, it certainly must have been OK. Between Ben Roethlisberger and Brett Favre, I've dealt with enough underwhelming NFL penises to last a lifetime.There are lot of things that anger me about this incident. The fact that people blame this girl for being drunk. For accepting shots from Ben. For perhaps being starry-eyed and excited about seeing a celebrity. These things are probably all true, and yet, that's not a defense for how she was treated, disrespected and violated as a woman. When we start subjecting women to an onslaught of criticism for social behavior, then we'll also relegating them to an inferior position, in that women don't have the freedom to make the same choices as men because it could lead to uncomfortable circumstances. This is meaningless minutia, really, and leads to a slippery slope when look to blame people in terms of rape.
The fact that we can apologize for Be's behavior, and unquestionably place him back upon his pedestal is discouraging, especially in our society, where we tend to glamorize athletes, especially when they take our Fantasy Football teams to the championship game. At times it seems that when the hubris of an athlete contributes to a proverbial fall from grace, we tend to point fingers at the victim. "She asked for it." "She deserved it." "She shouldn't have followed him into the bathroom, if she didn't want it." These don't justify his behavior, and I hope that he's reformed in a way that he can truly appreciate the rejection of women.
In the essence, of not raping a dead horse, let's just say that Ben's impending nuptials make me feel queasy. Can't we just continue raping countries and stop raping women?
Monday, January 3, 2011
Pussy & Pop Culture
Leave it to Jersey Shore to teach us an important lesson about feminine issues. This post was inspired by an 8-hour JS binge during a New Year's hangover and, later, a surprisingly poignant Law & Order: SVU episode.
The entire premise of MTV's greatest anthropological experiment is to put olive oil-y, spray-tanned grundle choads in one house, feed them lethal amounts of alcohol and set them loose on the club scene. Naturally, all castmates bang each other and every other moving peen/vag in the metropolitan area. Naturally, the double standard applies that boys are pimps and the girls are sluts. I moved beyond this thought, however, when tonight's SVU episode introduced as a star witness in a NYC rape case a Congolese refugee who had fled her country after watching her family, village and entire community get raped by neighboring warlords - sexual violence is one of man's best weapons of wars, after all.
Putting these two images together - the sluts at Jersey Shore and the rape victims and sex slaves outside our borders - made me think that maybe we First Worlders take our sexual freedom for granted. Sure, there is a wide gap to bridge in the U.S. in terms of gender equality, but for the most part, we own our vaginas. If we want to sleep around or if we want to be selective, that's really our choice. We can get huffy when men turn into hypocrites and apply these double standards, but the argument almost seems irrelevant compared to the experiences of women who don't have a say in their sexuality.
I've interviewed indigenous Mexican women in rural, impoverished communities who have literally lost their babies (or in the case of other women, their lives) because their husbands or mother-in-laws refused to let another man - i.e. the doctor - see their lady bits during this fragile process. The empowering part is that many of these women are saying "fuck that shit" and scraping up change to take themselves on the hours-long drive to the obstetrician, but in reality most of these women are secondary in making decisions about their own bodies. I won't even pretend like I'm well-versed enough to delve into Africa and Asia's shop of sexual horrors, but even the headlines will tell you that in most parts of the world, men (and other women) are taking the fate of the world's vaginas into their own hands, denying women the right to say how and when they'll use their Power (holla, Judy Blume).
I'm obviously not above watching the shallow cesspool that is the world's greatest reality show, but I believe it is incredibly effective in numbing the mind of its viewers in terms of the female experience. We watch these pickle-toting trolls have sexy times with roommates and strangers, and the conversation stops there. Are they slutty? Would you have slept with that guy too? Would you sleep with her? Is this normal behavior, and why is it so entertaining? They're questions that are fun to answer, but have absolutely no consequence to the fate of sexual suffering around the world. Tonight's Law & Order, however, posed a far more positive discussion (well, at least in my head, and with myself). According to the episode, which we'll consider 100% fair and accurate for the sake of my rambling, strategic rapes and mass sexual abuses have essentially no weight in international courtrooms - so, bombing people is punishable, but raping them is irrelevant.
Unfortunately I can't really conclude this post, as it's 2 a.m., my wine buzz has worn off, and I know tomorrow I'll get back to giggling with my ladies about my own sexual follies. I think the point that I wanted to make is that the majority of American pop culture encourages us to think shallow, inconsequential thoughts about women and sex. These shows reiterate our own experience in essentially owning our own bodies. Sure, we might make stupid decisions and sext them via iPhone, but that was our stupid decision to make. Rarely do we consider how insanely lucky we are to be able to make these stupid decisions. And it's not just that we're lucky compared to our grandmothers, who blossomed in a far more patriarchal society. It's that we are lucky compared to the majority of women around the world today.
That said, I have some gorillaz to smush.
The entire premise of MTV's greatest anthropological experiment is to put olive oil-y, spray-tanned grundle choads in one house, feed them lethal amounts of alcohol and set them loose on the club scene. Naturally, all castmates bang each other and every other moving peen/vag in the metropolitan area. Naturally, the double standard applies that boys are pimps and the girls are sluts. I moved beyond this thought, however, when tonight's SVU episode introduced as a star witness in a NYC rape case a Congolese refugee who had fled her country after watching her family, village and entire community get raped by neighboring warlords - sexual violence is one of man's best weapons of wars, after all.
Putting these two images together - the sluts at Jersey Shore and the rape victims and sex slaves outside our borders - made me think that maybe we First Worlders take our sexual freedom for granted. Sure, there is a wide gap to bridge in the U.S. in terms of gender equality, but for the most part, we own our vaginas. If we want to sleep around or if we want to be selective, that's really our choice. We can get huffy when men turn into hypocrites and apply these double standards, but the argument almost seems irrelevant compared to the experiences of women who don't have a say in their sexuality.
I've interviewed indigenous Mexican women in rural, impoverished communities who have literally lost their babies (or in the case of other women, their lives) because their husbands or mother-in-laws refused to let another man - i.e. the doctor - see their lady bits during this fragile process. The empowering part is that many of these women are saying "fuck that shit" and scraping up change to take themselves on the hours-long drive to the obstetrician, but in reality most of these women are secondary in making decisions about their own bodies. I won't even pretend like I'm well-versed enough to delve into Africa and Asia's shop of sexual horrors, but even the headlines will tell you that in most parts of the world, men (and other women) are taking the fate of the world's vaginas into their own hands, denying women the right to say how and when they'll use their Power (holla, Judy Blume).
I'm obviously not above watching the shallow cesspool that is the world's greatest reality show, but I believe it is incredibly effective in numbing the mind of its viewers in terms of the female experience. We watch these pickle-toting trolls have sexy times with roommates and strangers, and the conversation stops there. Are they slutty? Would you have slept with that guy too? Would you sleep with her? Is this normal behavior, and why is it so entertaining? They're questions that are fun to answer, but have absolutely no consequence to the fate of sexual suffering around the world. Tonight's Law & Order, however, posed a far more positive discussion (well, at least in my head, and with myself). According to the episode, which we'll consider 100% fair and accurate for the sake of my rambling, strategic rapes and mass sexual abuses have essentially no weight in international courtrooms - so, bombing people is punishable, but raping them is irrelevant.
Unfortunately I can't really conclude this post, as it's 2 a.m., my wine buzz has worn off, and I know tomorrow I'll get back to giggling with my ladies about my own sexual follies. I think the point that I wanted to make is that the majority of American pop culture encourages us to think shallow, inconsequential thoughts about women and sex. These shows reiterate our own experience in essentially owning our own bodies. Sure, we might make stupid decisions and sext them via iPhone, but that was our stupid decision to make. Rarely do we consider how insanely lucky we are to be able to make these stupid decisions. And it's not just that we're lucky compared to our grandmothers, who blossomed in a far more patriarchal society. It's that we are lucky compared to the majority of women around the world today.
That said, I have some gorillaz to smush.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Das Cünts
After a night of rather heavy drinking and begrudging support from my friends, I decided that I would start out the new year being a better feminist (and eating more pizza) and blogging about it. (I realize this is a cliched endeavor, but Skittles--the choice amalgamated Vodka, Kool-Aid, Mountain Dew drink of fourth wave feminists--gave me steel labias.) This is where I'll deal with the hypocrisy of my desire to be rather defiant and valiant in my strong feminist beliefs while still acting utterly helpless when seducing dudes. Just kidding! I tend to just emasculate any boy that crosses my path, in a really girly and giggly way.Anyway, I will deal with the constant internal struggle I have about making rape jokes while bemoaning rape culture, about being a feminist and a Steelers fan, about wanting someone to tell me how cars work while also trying to check my own tire pressure. Amidst all of this, I will also figure out why Criminal Minds insists on savagely killing off its lady characters, determine why Mystery, the pickup artist, has come to be such an influential person in my life (I presume his gender bending ways are part of this obsession) and why Ke$ha's naked pics aren't completely horrible. But truthfully, I'll probably just comment on Jezebel articles, make really inappropriate vagina jokes, and photoshop my head on Natalie Portman's body.
In Hillary Clinton We Trust!
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