Call me Tybalt.
If you think that the nice guy ranting only happens on the internet, you’ve never had to deal with your thoroughly drunken friend shouting about how no girls would go out with a nice guy like him, even though he’s surrounded by single women he ignores because they aren’t attractive enough for him.
If you think guys getting pissy and escalating matters because you told people to stop making sex jokes is a feature of the internet, well, you’ve never asked anyone to stop making jokes that make you uncomfortable.
If you think that inappropriate comments and requests for sex are an internet thing, you’ve never tried to stop a coworker or boss from hitting on you repeatedly, or a head of security, or the guy at the convenience store across the street.
If you think that being shouted at and asked to show people your tits just because you present as a woman only happens in chat rooms and online games, you’ve never walked past a frat house, or, unfortunately, through the main thoroughfares of either university I’ve attended.
If you think unasked for commentary on a woman’s looks only happens because girls post pictures on internet forums (which probably means they’re asking for it), you’ve never been at a bus stop, or the city square, or a mall, or… well, anywhere, really.
If you think insecure men trying to drive women out of activism only happens in online male-dominated communities, you’ve never paid attention politics. Or Fox. Or CNN, sadly.
If you think the reaction to rape victims is bad on twitter, try sharing that experience in person. Or try even standing up for a rape victim. Count how many minutes until someone points out “but men can be falsely accused! The woman just changed her mind! You just can’t believe those drunk *insert varying level of insulting reference to gender*!”"
to which i responded, WE’RE FUCKING TRYING.
then i told this story which i share now because for me it crystallizes a certain particular feeling. it is not really my story or even much of a story, but. for reasons obvious to some of you, i recently spent a lot of time thinking about my high school and “sex” and power there. i was never sexually harassed by a teacher there, nor (i think) was anyone i personally knew, at least not that they ever disclosed to me, although a music teacher i had (no, not that one), in retrospect, was definitely not appropriate in his dealings with some female students.
but there was one teacher that was just known for being a dude who would, if your breasts were large enough, look down your chest. this was just an accepted fact. it wasn’t even a reason not to take one of his classes, just to sit in the back if you happened to look a certain way. and i am not going to disparage the creep-dar of teenage girls grossed out by grown-ass men, but if you’re an asshole and that’s not enough for you, while i was there, this dude i have zero compunction about identifying wrote a hilariously shitty book about a high school teacher who was constantly distracted by his female students’ tits. and our response was: lol, duh.
what weirds me out revisiting this now is that it wasn’t even weird at the time. you know? we were fifteen, sixteen, and — i should probably only speak for myself here — i didn’t take it as the outrage it COMPLETELY FUCKING IS, OH MY GOD, GROWN-ASS MEN, KEEP YOUR EYES TO YOURSELF OR ELSE STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM TEENAGE GIRLS. it was just a fact of the environment, like look both ways before crossing the road and wear a coat if it’s cold. and now i’m so angry about that. i’m so angry that we were fifteen and already becoming aware of the need to live our lives navigating the negative space left to us by creepy-ass dudes. and i’m exponentially more angry to think about the fact that this was at a mostly white, mostly rich place, and that i in particular am white and middle-class and also someone who has been ludicrously lucky in interpersonal dealings with dudes i have considered close — in other words, that in all likelihood this is the best that it gets. the best it gets includes, as just one part of it, being fifteen and knowing there’s a teacher at my school who thinks teenage girls are hot and doesn’t care enough to hide it.
do you understand? every day. this is woven into the fabric of my ordinary day-to-day existence, and is only one small example of something i am aware i experience far less than many (most?) women. this gets exhausting. guarded pessimism isn’t fun for me. i don’t enjoy spending days feeling rage as a near-physical sensation. but i do not have the luxury of openheartedness, at this point of my life. i need people to earn their way in. it’s a matter of emotional and to some extent physical safety.
and i can’t really explain it further than that. and i don’t have the energy to try.
# noticing this a lot lately with a certain work friend
# which sucks a lot :c
# gender studies
# pillow angel
# sexual assault
# static encephalopathy
# cerebral palsy
# mental age
# medical abuse
# medical experiment
# trigger warning
Did you know that the doctor who performed the illegal mutilating surgeries, bone growth plate removal, hormone treatments, full hysterectomy, breast bud mastectomy and other odds and end on a six-year-old girl committed suicide?
Did you know that her parents had a blog where they openly discussed that the main drive behind having medical experiments done to their child was the “indignity” of a “full-grown, fertile woman with the mind of a baby?”
Ashley’s parents said the decision to remove their daughter’s uterus and breast buds was for the girl’s comfort and safety.
“Ashley has no need for her uterus since she will not be bearing children,” they said, adding that the decision means she will not experience the menstrual cycle and the bleeding and discomfort commonly associated with it.
The operation also removed the possibility of pregnancy if Ashley were ever the victim of sexual abuse, they said.
The removal of the girl’s breast buds was also done in part to avoid sexual abuse, but was carried out primarily so she would not experience discomfort when lying down, the parents said.
Here’s what feminists have had to say about this case, if they bother at all(please note the eerie similarity of “the parent’s decision making process couldn’t have been easy” to “i wonder what this mother who wants her child dead is feeling”):
THIS IS THE **FEMINIST** DISCUSSION OF THE PILLOW ANGEL.
“TO BE FAIR, ASHLEY’S PARENTS…”
“THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE ASHLEY TREATMENT FOR CAREGIVERS”
“BUT WHAT IF WE DID THIS TO NON-DISABLED GIRLS? THAT WOULD BE OUT OF THE QUESTION!”
Not a single news story OR “feminist” analysis fails to call the illegal mutilation of a disabled little girl “treatment”.
Wait, what about the people whose JOB it is to defend children with disabilities? Sure hey will have something to say about this, right? Dr. Nancy Murphy, chairman of the American Academy of Pediatrics Committee on Children with Disabilities??? What do YOU have to say?
“[This disability] shatters the reason we become parents: to watch kids grow, to be part of their lives and to launch into their own lives,” says Murphy. “When you have a child with lifelong dependency, you don’t get to launch your kid, and your caregiver options are limited.”
Like Ashley, I, too, have a static encephalopathy. Mine was caused by brain damage at the time of my breech birth. Like Ashley, I can’t walk, talk, feed or care for myself. My motor skills are those of a 3-month-old. When I was 3, a doctor assessed me as severely retarded (that is, as having an IQ of less than 35) and I was admitted to a state institution called St. Nicholas Hospital in Melbourne, Australia. As the hospital didn’t provide me with a wheelchair, I lay in bed or on the floor for most of the next 14 years. At the age of 12, I was relabeled as profoundly retarded (IQ less than 20) because I still hadn’t learned to walk or talk.
My life changed when I was offered a means of communication. At the age of 16, I was taught to spell by pointing to letters on an alphabet board. Two years later, I used spelling to instruct the lawyers who fought the habeas corpus action that enabled me to leave the institution in which I’d lived for 14 years.In the ultimate Catch-22, the hospital doctors told the Supreme Court that my small stature was evidence of my profound mental retardation. I’ve learned the hard way that not everything doctors say should be taken at face value.Unlike Ashley, I’m now an ordinary height and weight — but I don’t get left out, nonetheless. Though I still can’t walk, talk or feed myself, I’m an enthusiastic traveler. My size has never got in the way, though my hip flask of Bundy rum often causes alarm at airport security.Given that Ashley’s surgery is irreversible, I can only offer sympathy to her and her parents. For her sake, I hope she does not understand what has happened to her; but I’m afraid she probably does. As one who knows what it’s like to be infantilized because I was the size of a 4-year-old at age 18, I don’t recommend it.PLEASE TELL ME AGAIN WHO SHOULD BE SPEAKING FOR DISABLED PEOPLETELL ME AGAIN ABOUT YOUR CHILD/SIBLINGS/FAMILY MEMBER’S “MENTAL AGE”PLEASE TELL ME AGAIN TO GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT THE STRESS OF CAREGIVERSPLEASE TELL ME AGAIN WHY I SHOULD LIVE INSIDE AN APOLOGY FOR MY EXISTENCEPLEASE TELL ME SOME MORE ABOUT HOW I SHOULD GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT A MOVEMENT THAT DOESN’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT METELL ME SOME MORE ABOUT YOUR FEMINIST STUDIES CLASS YOU ASS
THIS IS SO FUCKING DISGUSTING
It’s like something out of a fucked-up gorn movie or something. This should not have been allowed to happen, not ever. Fuck.
# the second a man says he hates feminism but wants equality it's a really really bad sign
Note to self: if a guy attacks women feminists, claims to be a ‘women’s rights activist’ and tells them to shut up, pick their fights and let people like him do the talking, you should probably just walk the fuck away because nothing is going to penetrate his thick skull.
the hardest part about being a feminist is knowing that one day soon i will grow 15 feet and my arms will shrink and i will become a t-rex with an insatiable appetite for man blood
and there’s nothing i can do to stop it
the transformation has already begun i can feel it in my bones
the hardest part about being a feminist is when you hit a dude adn he hits you back just as hard.
there’s equality for ya. now go make a sammich.
a woman making a joke on the internet about feminism— about turning into a dinosaur and eating innocent men, no less. this sounds serious. you didn’t want to have to resort to this but… desperate times call for desperate measures.
you’re going to have to do it.
you’re going to have to make a sandwich joke
this is a tradition passed down from the ancient men’s rights scriptures of 4chan, dating back to the early 2000s AD
you inhale deeply
it’s not an easy task, but this feminist is out of control. if you don’t do it now who knows what dark horrors she’ll unleash upon mankind