i unfollowed a bunch of folks today and made like 2 updates.
Immature people falling in love destroy each other’s freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty. When love flows with dependence there is ugliness.
A mature person does not fall in love, he or she rises in love. Only immature people fall; they stumble and fall down in love. Somehow they were managing and standing. Now they cannot manage and they cannot stand. They were always ready to fall on the ground and to creep. They don’t have the backbone, the spine; they don’t have the integrity to stand alone.
A mature person has the integrity to stand alone. And when a mature person gives love, he or she gives without any strings attached to it. When two mature persons are in love, one of the great paradoxes of life happens, one of the most beautiful phenomena: they are together and yet tremendously alone. They are together so much that they are almost one. Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. Only freedom and love.
i promise, im returning to tumblr, i just have to figure out a way to better interact and deal with some of the chronic bullshit i see on my dash (other than just get off the internet).
Authority is relevant here because the art world does not deal in widgets. What it values is fundamentally symbolic, interpretable. Hence the ability to evaluate—the power to deem certain things and ideas significant and critical—is precious. Starting in the 1960s, the university became the privileged route into the rapidly growing American art world. And in October’s wake, that world systematically rewarded a particular kind of linguistic weirdness
i went away for a week, detoxed on internet, got back, checked tumblr, realized it was the same compulsive know it all tell all, was about as surprised as nada, going back to detox.
is that sad that a social media forum can depress the hell out of me?
It is unfair to ask a woman to leave aside her personal experience and discuss feminist issues in the abstract. You are discussing the stuff of her life. Asking her to “not make it personal” is to ask her to wrench her womanhood from her personhood. Don’t play Devil’s advocate. Seriously. Just don’t.
Kaneko Fumiko was a Japanese anarchist and feminist who was convicted of conspiracy to assassinate the Emperor. The charge was fabricated, and was ultimately meant as revenge against Fumiko for her support of Korean independence. Rather than allowing the Japanese government to take her life, she committed suicide in prison at the young age of 23. Before her death she left behind a wonderful book titled, “What Made Me Do What I Did.” The english version, often titled “Prison Memoirs of a Japanese Woman” is available as an E-Book HERE.
“Lots of Men Are Glad One Woman is Gone,” a recent newspaper headline announced. “Some men believe Stephanie Dawn Kirk is their worst nightmare come true,” the article by a Salt Lake City writer began.
I’ve been particularly curious lately about a man’s worst nightmare. After spending more than a year working with producer Colleen Casto on No Safe Place, a PBS documentary about the origins of violence against women, I know a lot about women’s fears. Men’s fears are more foreign to me. Stephanie Kirk, the subject of the newspaper article, looked harmless enough. She was young, with long brown hair, and too much eyeliner. But apparently, this young woman is a man’s worst nightmare.
What had she done to strike terror in men? She had never physically hurt any of the men mentioned in the article. What she had done, they claimed, is to falsely accuse them of raping or beating her.
I don’t mean to underplay men’s fears or this woman’s damaging accusations. But what this story underscored for me was the very different way that men and women perceive their own safety.
Another story played in the local media the same week, a story that represented a lot of women’s nightmares, though no reports described it as such. A woman was jogging at 5:45 a.m. in a suburban neighborhood when a man grabbed her, dragged her behind a cement wall, repeatedly banged her head into the wall, and brutally raped her. The rape is the kind of story that makes women realize how vulnerable we really are. It makes us think twice about walking through a darkened parking lot, running a simple errand after dark, or jogging alone. We are targets everyday in ways we don’t even realize. Because of our gender, we must constantly think about how to be safe. Fear proscribes how and where we live, where we walk, where we park, where we sleep, eat and travel. As women, we know there are some things we cannot — or rather, should not — do, some places we should not go. We’ve seen the movies, we’ve read the articles, we know the statistics. The media is our collective storyteller and the story it tells us over and over again is that there is no safe place — not on the roads where we drive, on the streets where we walk, not even in the house where we live. We feel at risk because we are.
When we started working on our documentary film, we began keeping a file of clippings about the abuse women suffer at the hands of men — a pregnant young woman shot by her boyfriend, a woman assaulted and run over by her attacker’s car, a woman who had suffered a stroke bludgeoned to death by her husband, a young mother and her two-year-old daughter murdered by a spurned boyfriend, a seven-year-old sodomized by her father’s friend. Sometimes the stories appeared almost daily, often two or more in the same paper. Our files so soon started to bulge that I gave up adding anymore disheartening evidence. Not one of the accounts ran a headline declaring, “he was a woman’s worst nightmare,” even though the accused’s crimes included stabbing, raping, choking, beating, and brutally murdering females.
At the same time, we started hearing stories from our own acquaintances about their experiences: stalkings, sexual assaults, battering. We were shocked a highly successful friend told about a husband who had pointed a gun at her head and threatened to kill her if she left him. We were stunned when we learned that the mother of a friend was raped in her own home at 10:30 on a warm summer night. Everyone, it seemed, had a story. A woman’s worst nightmare? For too many of us, the most intimate of crimes is a bitter reality.
According to Senator Joseph Biden, who pushed for the law to punish violence against women, “the single greatest danger to a woman’s health is violence from men.” Of course, the vast majority of men — honorable men — don’t hurt women, and women aren’t the only victims of violence. But the fact is, women are physically more vulnerable. We learn early that we must take extra precautions to protect ourselves.
We may be afraid of strangers, but it is the most intimate of strangers — a husband, a lover, a friend — who is most likely to hurt us. According to a U.S. Justice Department study, two-thirds of violent attacks against women are committed by someone the woman knows. Can we ever be too wary?
A woman’s worst nightmare? That’s pretty easy. Novelist Margaret Atwood writes that when she asked a male friend why men feel threatened by women, he answered, “They are afraid women will laugh at them.” When she asked a group of women why they feel threatened by men, they said, “We’re afraid of being killed.”
If you ask a woman what she is afraid of and what she does to protect herself, she’ll give you a list of specifics. Ask a man the same question, and he might not understand what you mean. While we were working on our documentary, we conducted an informal survey, asking that very question to men and women. Their answers were enlightening. Typically, women were afraid of physical violence or they were afraid for their children’s safety.
“I worry sometimes that I might get attacked or something by some guy because I run in the morning and it’s always real dark. I got a dog, so that I can run with him, and I also carry mace on me now when I run.”
“I’m most afraid of being attacked by a man, especially if I’m out jogging or riding my bike or walking. I don’t go out alone at night. I used to run with headphones on and I don’t do that anymore so that I can be aware of what’s going on around me.”
“I’m always afraid in a situation where there’s somebody that could overpower me easily. I lock my doors, park in lighted areas, don’t run in dark areas.”
“I’m afraid everytime I take my garbage out at night, because I know that women have been attacked and raped just by simply taking the garbage out, being caught unaware at nighttime. I always take my two dogs with me when I take out the garbage.”
For women, the fears are specific. Men, on the other hand, tended to be more afraid of failure or being humiliated.
“I’m most afraid of being stupid.”
“Failure is the dominant fear in my life.”
“Making the wrong decision and having to live with it.”
“I think I’m most afraid of an overall loss of control.”
“As a man, I’m afraid of very little.”
Most men don’t understand the lingering fears of women. When a co-worker complained to her husband she didn’t like working the late shift because she was afraid to go to her car, he asked her why she didn’t just tuck her blond hair under a baseball cap.
It’s not that women are perpetually frightened or immobilized by fear. Rather it’s that we know we must constantly be wary. We look over our shoulder in the parking lot, hold our keys in our hands as we leave the building, check out who’s in the elevator, lock our windows even on a sweltering summer night — a hundred small gestures that become second nature to a woman. We take precautions a man never considers.
I recently spent an afternoon with a single friend while a police officer did a security check of her home. (She didn’t want to be alone in her house with a stranger, even though he was a policeman). I doubt many man would have considered such a check necessary. Not long ago a friend of mine called to ask me to stay with her for a few nights. Her husband was leaving town and she didn’t want to stay in the house alone. I went because my husband was out of town on the same weekend and I didn’t want to stay home alone either. If you’re a man this won’t make any sense to you. But if you’re a woman alone in a big house, doors and windows can keep you up at night. There are plenty of bad guys out there and only a door or a window separates them from us. Though my windows are painted shut, the doors double locked and deadbolted, I still have an escape route plotted out in case I actually hear someone climbing up the steep stairs to the hallway outside the bedroom. I realize this is ridiculous, but who can help the dark demons that the night summons? Do men go through these elaborate scenarios in the dead of the night, trying to map out an escape route? I’ve never met one who did. But most women I know have a plan. We take precautions.
A 49-year-old woman we interviewed for our documentary thought she had taken precautions. She was raped a few months ago in her home when she heard her dog barking and opened the door to let it in. A masked stranger with a knife grabbed her, dragged her into the house and raped her.
“I have mace on my keychain, but you don’t run outside to see what your dog’s barking at with your mace in hand,” she says. “Maybe you should go everywhere with it in your hand. All women are vulnerable like I am. And if they don’t realize it, they should. Because you never know what’s going to happen. You never ever now when it’s going to happen. And you always need to be checking your back.”
It’s a reality that makes Maggie resentful. “First it’s the evenings that I lost, and now it’s freedom around my own home. It seems like we just keep having more and more things that we have to watch out for, and more and more freedoms we lose, just by our gender.”
The ever-controversial Camilia Paglia says women are dreaming if they think anything will change. “Feminism keeps saying the sexes are the same. It keeps telling women they can do anything, go anywhere, say anything, wear anything. No, they can’t. Women will always be in sexual danger,” she writes in her book Sex, Art and American Culture.
To illustrate, she relates the story of a male student who slept in a passageway of the Great Pyramid in Egypt. “I will never experience that. I am a woman. I am not stupid enough to believe I could ever be safe there. There is a world of solitary adventure I will never have. Women have always known these somber truths.”
While we must remedy social injustice whenever we can, Paglia says we must realize that there are some things we can never change. An anthropologist friend of mine who comes from a perspective of looking at cultures past and present, agrees with her. She says women will forever be prey because of the differences between the sexes. They may be right. I doubt I’ll ever walk alone in certain places or stop locking doors and windows.
“Women have well-founded fears,” 24-year-old Jason told me. “I understand it, but I’ve never experienced it. I never plan where I walk the dog or park my car. Why should I? I’m a man.” I hold out hope that more men, like Jason, are beginning to understand women’s fears and to realize that women have a different reality of their own safety than do men. Society won’t take women’s fears seriously until men understand our vulnerability. Until men join with women to say no to violence, whether it’s on the streets or in our homes, nothing is likely to change. As women, we can take all the precautions imaginable, but the ultimate answer lies within each man and woman and what we will or will not tolerate as individuals, as communities and as a nation to allow our daughters, our sisters, our mothers and all the women in our lives to live without fear.
Mary Dickson is the writer and co-producer of No Safe Place: Violence Against Women, airing Friday, March 27 at 9:00 p.m. ET on PBS. Her essay is the winner of the 1996 Vivian Castleberry Award for Commentary from the Association of Women Journalists.
Remember the parable of the licked cupcake? A youth leader would bring to church enough cupcakes so that everyone in class could have just one. Then, they would lick the frosting from one of the cupcakes, put it back on the tray and pass the cupcakes around so everybody could take one. Of course, the last person in class was stuck with the licked cupcake, and of course, they wouldn’t eat it.
The licked cupcakes in the chastity lesson always represented females. In Young Women’s, the cupcakes represented us - we didn’t want to be a licked cupcake. No one wants a cupcake licked by someone else.
In Young Men’s, the cupcakes also represented girls. You boys were taught not to lick cupcakes that weren’t yours. No one else wants a licked cupcake, and neither do you.
Never once was I told that boys could be licked cupcakes. Never. What boys did was, I guess, none of our business. All we girls knew was not to let boys lick our cupcakes, or no one would want us. The burden of chastity was ours to bear, and the prospects of forgiveness for failure were grim.
Some active, yet non-believing men say they don’t defend sexism in the LDS church. But they don’t need to defend it. They support it every week as they walk through the doors of that church bringing their wives and children with them. Your children will no doubt get the same tired cupcake lesson we all got as youth. And try as you might to counter the misogyny pounded into their little heads, the fact that you keep taking them back for more teaches them what your words never will.
Salt-N-Pepa - Ain’t Nuthin’ But A She Thing
When I think of feminism and Hip Hop this is the first song that comes to mind. Salt-N-Pepa came into the rap game when no women were getting respect as emcees. Came strutting in heels and spandex and slayed the game. Respect their gangsta.
It’s a she thing and it’s all in me
I could be anything that I want to be
Don’t consider me a minority
Open up your eyes and maybe you’ll see
It’s a she thing and it’s all in me
I could be anything that I want to be
Don’t consider me a minority
Ladies help me out if you agree It’s a she thing
For all the ladies seeking an opportunity to get their foot in entertainment, my friend offers some inside secrets.
(subscribe Melanie Booth)
hey yo this is the grossest shittiest video i’ve seen all day hella props for all the misogyny great work you’re great (i hope u die)
relax, we are all going to eventually die
Why is it that comedians can crack jokes about all sorts of offensive stuff, but when this girl does it, everyone goes nuts? Because whatever she said was definitely not as bad as ”I hope you die”. It was a joke on the over-dramatization of sexuality in the music industry;
as far as ‘slut-shaming goes’, when you wear an outfit, you make a choice as to how people will see you. If you don’t like the way they perceive you, change your outfit or be prepared to own it. It is something you can help- it is not a race issue or a body type issue.
Should they ‘shame’ you for it? No. But drawing a stereotype for the sake of comedy, is literally only that. Famous comedians do it all of the time- you’re supposed to bring your own sense to it.
The people who are offended by this are probably also offended when famous comedians do it. It’s just that most people aren’t offended by this sort of thing because shaming a woman based on her perceived sexuality is actually fairly normative, so the majority response is to laugh instead of to be offended. The same is probably true with this video. You just happened to stumble upon a minority opinion.
Either way, just because someone calls something comedy doesn’t mean you have to think it’s funny, and I don’t think demeaning women who have and enjoy sex—or at least appear to—is funny. Also, it strikes me as a poor quality Jenna Marbles knock off (who, notably, has similarly been criticized for slut shaming), and I don’t know what bronzer has to do with clubbing baby seals. Making slut jokes is one of the most overdone gags on the internet, and that in and of itself should be plenty reason not to laugh at this video.
um, her whore makeup is waaaaaaaay lacking. as well as her whore outfit. also, whats up with your stripper push up girl? you too weak in the arms?
“Chronic illness takes its toll on friendship for several reasons. We become undependable as companions, often having to cancel plans at the last minute if it turns out we can’t get out of bed on the day of a scheduled commitment. And, living in the world of the sick, we gradually have less and less in common with those with whom we worked and played.”
“Knowing these reasons doesn’t make the isolation any less painful an adjustment as we watch people disappear from our lives one by one, some after dozens of years of friendship. On top of this painful personal experience, we also encounter all the ‘healthy living’ advice that tells us that maintaining an active social life enhances both mental and physical health. And so worry is added to isolation.”