A Blog of Her OwnEveryone’s heard of friendzoning – even if they don’t know the word, they sure as hell know the concept. It’s what happens time and again to unfortunate Nice Guys who, despite being nothing but sugar and spice to the girls they love, are nonetheless denied the sexual relationships they so…
“‘Those guys are assholes,’ they say. ‘Most guys are not like that. I’m not like that.’ That’s the thing: if I don’t know you, I don’t know what you’re like… You could be a perfect gentleman, an upstanding, tax-paying citizen who has never broken the law and who treats everyone who crosses his path with the utmost respect, but I will never see it when I’m walking alone or sitting at a bar unaccompanied. I will only see a potential threat. By the time you get within three feet of me, my survival instinct is already engaged.”
The link above is to an incredible post about how it feels as a woman to be approached by an unknown man. Every man should read it.
As a man, the closest comparison I can summon up for the feeling of anxiety AV Flox conveys is the memory of the few times when I’ve been startled by (presumably drunk) teenagers yelling at me from the windows of a passing car. It’s a thing that has happened to me at most five times, but it still summons up a feeling of anxiety when I think about it.
It’s impossible for me to really grok that women feel like this every day. When friends who are women tell me that they have to think twice before going out at night, my first reaction is one of pure disbelief; it never occurs to me before I leave my house that I might be in any kind of personal danger. It’s something so alien to my personal experience that it’s hard to believe. And it’s a perfect—and horrifying—example of male privilege in modern American society.
One of the couples that lives in my building has a baby girl. I barely know her or her parents—I’m not even sure I remember her name—but the idea of her growing up with that kind of ingrained fear literally brings tears to my eyes. So here’s a question for my women readers: how can I use the privilege afforded me by the fact that I’m a man to make sure she doesn’t have to?
(via dresdenlowe)
Standing in solidarity with the young Penn State survivor, Tyler Perry reminds us of the courage it takes to break the silence of sexual assault.
If you believe the Equal Rights Amendment should be in our U.S. Constitution, here’s what to do:
Kate Fridkis’ appeal to parents to stop differentiating between their “pretty daughter” and their other daughters.
It seems like a played-out sitcom senario, but the “pretty daughter/smart daughter” dichotomy is alive and well. When I sit back and think about it, it’s almost scary how perfectly my sister and I are an example. My internal motivation for academic success and complete disregard for trends left my sister to take up the mantle of the “pretty daughter.” This wasn’t too difficult for her - naturally blonde, thin and smiley, she would have been the obvious choice anyway. Of the two of us though, I feel like this distinction has negatively affected her more than it has me. I am lucky enough to be in an environment where intelligence and hard work are considered admirable traits in a person, man or woman (Yay college!). For my sister, who’s still in high school, it’s a different story. She wakes up hours before school starts to “get ready.” Luckily, she is so smart that she doesn’t have to spend hours studying like I did. She just takes tests and aces them. And she does all the classwork, but to make sure she doesn’t get too good of a grade, she just doesn’t turn it in. She reads Isaac Asimov at night, and pretends she doesn’t like reading around her friends. She’s a cheerleader, and it’s taken her two years to finally join the debate team and science olympiad, which she totally enjoys. She calls it her “closet nerd” to justify it to her friends.
Even though in many ways I think it’s easier to be the “pretty one,” I think she got the raw end of the deal. Because eventually, none of us are going to be that pretty. I want her to know that she is more than the way she looks, that her real value is derived from everything underneath the designer clothes and and make-up and tanning-bed bronzed skin: her mind, her humour, her compassion. I am guilty of calling her “they pretty one.” I am going to make a conscious effort to remind her that she is so much, so much more than that.
“Preventing suicide among veterans requires a frank conversation about the discrimination, harassment and assault many of our veterans are subjected to, as well as accountability by the institutions that allow these circumstances to continue.”
Declaration for my Daughter:
First. That you will live in safety; that you will have freedom from fear,
Second. That the world you live in will be a place of equality and opportunity,
Third. That you will never question how beautiful you are; that you will know
the value of your strengths,
Fourth. That your words will be heard; that your work will be acknowledged,
Fifth. That you will know trust and friendship,
Sixth. That you will know love,
Seventh. That you will walk outside alone at night just to look at the stars;
that you will not be afraid,
Eighth. That you will expect respect from peers, professionalism from
coworkers, loyalty from friends and enouragement from partners; that you will
accept nothing less.
These are the conditions of a society in which I will raise my daughter. I pledge myself to the creation of this world for her. It is only in knowing with complete certainty that such a place exists, for her and for all of our children, that I will finally feel free.
You get so tired. You get so sick of the homophobia, the sexism, the culture of rape jokes and wife beating cartoons. But today you can take 30 seconds and smile. Somewhere right now there is a daddy dancing along while his femmy boy sings Lady Gaga. Somewhere right now there is a little girl suiting up to go play football with her peewee team. Somewhere there is a woman taking off the clothes she hates and pulling on a pair of pants. And there are boys holding hands in front of Dairy Queen and there are girls on their first date at the mall. There is a mom driving her son to the court so he can change his name from Brittney to Brandon. There is a family supporting their daughter after she reveals sexual abuse. There is a foster parent hesitantly walking into his first PFLAG meeting. And there exists more freedom, more equality, more safety than has ever existed before in the history of humanity. Of course it’s not enough. But it is amazing just the same. And you have done this. This did not happen despite our tears and our sweat, our humiliation and betrayal. This happened because of it.
Keep fighting.
Keep being that “annoying” dude pointing out every sexist remark.
Keep arguing with your freinds about not saying “fag.”
Keep voting.
Keep protesting.
And don’t you EVER let the other side get you down. They know that wearing you out is all they have left. What they do not know is that because of you, their children are safer. Because of you, our schools talk about bullying. Because of you, sexual harassment is illegal at their place of business.
Brothers and sisters, I am leaving my work as an advocate. I am moving to a new town and a new career. Feminally is not going anywhere- but in my last few days as a professional feminist I wanted to let you all know something very important:
you’re doing it right.
