Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, December 31, 2012
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
weight talk in the beauty shop
Last week, I sat in a beauty salon in one of Philly's suburbs, getting my highlights touched up (sidebar: I used to straight up lie to the men in my life about having natural highlights despite spending two hours plus at the salon every six weeks), and listening to the chatter of the stylist and her client next to me. The two were clearly friends, catching up on gossip about mutual pals in between foils in that accent unique to white people from the Philadelphia suburbs and Northeast, where the word "phone" sounds like "phowne" and "ass" sounds like "aye-as."
I sat immobilized, eavesdropping on these women talk about their friend who had gained a lot of weight recently. Naturally, this turned to the pair talking about their own bodies. One of them bitched that she was always gaining weight in her hips and "aye-as," which puzzled me: aren't big butts a good thing? Am I the only white woman who thinks that a big juicy butt can be a great thing?
They continued, with one of them recounting in precise detail exactly how much she'd weighed at various points in the last few years and the other friend making supportive commentary about those goal posts. Both of them were definitively thin, but were deeply engaged in this discussion about their poundage ups and downs.
I sat there, face covered with hair, making faces of confusion. Do women really talk to their friends about their weight in this amount of detail? I have almost no idea what any of my friends have ever weighed, and when they did mention it, I've forgotten it. I barely can guesstimate my own weight these days. Are we abnormal for not focusing on this aspect of our lives? Or at least not obsessing over it together?
Weight talk can be a form of bonding and reassurance, and sometimes very cathartic--telling one of my friends my weight was a very liberating conversation. But I feel that the better thing is to build the confidence in yourself and your crew, and put more priority on the bigger things in life: ambitions, hopes, desires, office gossip.
Ladies (or men!)--do you know precisely what your friends weigh? Is it a common theme of discussion?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, December 24, 2012
merry christmas!
Merry Christmas! I hope you spend the day with loved ones, and maybe even talk a little feminism. Normal post on Wednesday.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, December 21, 2012
friday links
I actually kinda enjoy Jenna Marbles' videos. But I agree that her video last week about "The Slut" was doing too much.
The tragedy in Newtown, CT last Friday was almost unbearable to think about. But if you wanna help? Here's some info.
Some other acts of random kindness that you can do to remind yourself, as the world ends, that there's still goodness!
On a lighter note: Jesus, your imaginary boyfriend.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
clothes in the workplace: it's hard out here for a female
I have a new, older co-worker. She's about my mom's age and a lovely person, so I feel protective of her, in some reverse way. She's never worked in an environment like ours before, so I find myself giving her a fair amount of advice about how to handle various issues. She's very passionate about what she does and a nice person.
But GOOD LORD she dressea inappropriately for work. Almost borderline Suri from 30 Rock inappropriate for work. It's hard for me suss out if her age makes it seem more or less appropriate. She clearly goes to the gym and is proud of her body, which everyone deserves to be. But there is something about it that makes me feel bad, because it gives people something to talk about and snicker behind her back about, and no one deserves that.
I fully support someone's right to wear whatever clothes they choose, and I'm all for trying to be non-judgmental of someone regardless of what they're wearing. But the reality of the situation is that what we wear results in judgments about our abilities, our sexuality, and our intelligence, especially for women. It DOES NOT mean that what we wear is an invitation to treat us differently or to ignore non-consent. But you want to have some judgmental, mean thoughts? Keep 'em to yourself!
That being said.
By sharing too much of your body at work, you're putting yourself at a disadvantage to share your great ideas and to show off your mind. It's a touch exchange and it's hard to go back when you've been elected the one who wears revealing clothes.
What do you think? What's the limit at work for you? Do you just skip this whole step and work from home/wear men's suits so no one can question it?
Much love,
The Sheriff
But GOOD LORD she dressea inappropriately for work. Almost borderline Suri from 30 Rock inappropriate for work. It's hard for me suss out if her age makes it seem more or less appropriate. She clearly goes to the gym and is proud of her body, which everyone deserves to be. But there is something about it that makes me feel bad, because it gives people something to talk about and snicker behind her back about, and no one deserves that.
I fully support someone's right to wear whatever clothes they choose, and I'm all for trying to be non-judgmental of someone regardless of what they're wearing. But the reality of the situation is that what we wear results in judgments about our abilities, our sexuality, and our intelligence, especially for women. It DOES NOT mean that what we wear is an invitation to treat us differently or to ignore non-consent. But you want to have some judgmental, mean thoughts? Keep 'em to yourself!
That being said.
By sharing too much of your body at work, you're putting yourself at a disadvantage to share your great ideas and to show off your mind. It's a touch exchange and it's hard to go back when you've been elected the one who wears revealing clothes.
What do you think? What's the limit at work for you? Do you just skip this whole step and work from home/wear men's suits so no one can question it?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, December 17, 2012
the language of the dating game: predator and prey
As I get older and move closer to the ancient age of my almost mid-twenties, I'm becoming more observant of the subtleties in the way that we explain dating and sex. Listening to the kids that I work with and hearing how they talk about sex and the opposite gender makes it ever more clear to me why the game is rigged so often into a predator and prey dynamic, like watching the Discovery channel. The language of dating is all about a competition, a game of keep away.
Hitting on a girl, and trying to get her number? You "bagged" her. Yes, like a deer, for those of you who know the hunting reference.
Heterosexual men, did you get laid recently after chasing a woman for a while? You "got the panties," as if they're a trophy.
The examples go on and on. The overall messages for each gender that come out of this dynamic are very clear.
Ladies--guard your virtue, keep you legs shut! But if you do it too much, you're just a cunt and a frigid bitch. Too little of the leg-shutting is an automatic stamp of being a whore, which means of course you cannot be wife material (see: Snoop Dogg's "Housewife," which informs us that it is impossible to transform a ho into a housewife. I'd like to see some retribution on that front from female rappers, ASAP).
Men! You're the predators. You're an animal! You must subdue the ladies' natural defenses and attempts to ward off your creepiness in order to be the winner, since this is after all simply a game and you must be the victor.
Does anyone else think this is a healthy dynamic, or that it sets up a good path to healthy relationships? Mmmhmm. I agree. I also think it's the reason why women are so often painted as the predator only in pursuing our ultimate status symbol: the wedding ring. Men are portrayed as falling into our seductive traps in the pursuit of sex, while we lure them into our matrimonial jaws.
Perhaps the best thing to do is to simply try not to speak of dating and sex in such terms. It's a simple change, but it influences how others talk to you as well. If you use terms like "bitch" in place of "woman" and talk about sex like it's a sport, you encourage the people around you to do that too. If you take the high road and try to eschew such language, at least around younger folks, it sets up a better standard of interaction for all of us.
Thoughts?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, December 14, 2012
Friday Links!
 |
| WORD! |
Remember Monday's post about Christmas toys and gender norming and all that nonsense? Well, this awesome girl is circulating a petition imploring Hasbro to feature boys in the packaging for the Easy Bake Oven so her little bro feels more confident using it!
I really like The Hawkeye Initiative.
FUCK YOU MENSTRUATION. Indeed.
Can dressing modestly improve body image? Interesting take on this.
Have a great weekend!
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
how to have a one night stand
Over drinks in Manayunk over a month ago (IT'S BEEN TOO LONG GUYS), a friend asked me: how do you actually have a one night stand? The directions seem simple:
1. Find person of appropriate attractiveness.
2. Attract them.
3. SEXY TIMES!
But her question was getting at more of an emotional question: how do you resist the urge to try to connect with them in a bigger way, if you really just want no-strings-attached fun? How do you just let it be that one, hopefully fun, night and keep it moving?
I've had a small number of true one night stands, where it happened and then there was no talking again. Far more of those interactions evolved into one of those friends-with-benefits situations, where a "what're you up to tonight" text turns into a night of takeout and doin' it (well...thanks LL). But as for the successfully NSA fun kind of nights, I realized as I was talking to her about this that I had a very simple and effective two prong approach.
1. Do not get their phone number, and definitely don't give them yours. If you truly want a one time, easy thing, don't give them the idea that it could be a more regular thing or blossom into some type of emotional connection. Does this feel a little more sleazy than pretending that you'd like to see them again or take them out for dinner? Sure. But so what?! It's a one night stand. It's not meant to be a way to judge your moral actions or if you're a good person. It's about satisfaction.
2. Pretend they're dead (or castrated, if you must see them again). This is the part that I was not totally aware that I thought, but it makes the first part of my approach far more effective. If they're dead to you/castrated, then you won't be tempted to contact them again for sex or coffee or whatever flimsy cover you're using if it's someone you already interact with like a classmate or co-worker, but you can still interact with them if you must.
I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that part of them being dead. It's sort of an objectification of the person, in that after the boning has finished, they're dead to you. But if it protects you emotionally, and you're clear that they're after the same kind of night that you are, who cares? As long as it doesn't result in mistreating said person, it seems harmless to me.
Do you agree? How do you maintain emotional distance in one night stands? Talk to me.
Much love,
The Sheriff
1. Find person of appropriate attractiveness.
2. Attract them.
3. SEXY TIMES!
But her question was getting at more of an emotional question: how do you resist the urge to try to connect with them in a bigger way, if you really just want no-strings-attached fun? How do you just let it be that one, hopefully fun, night and keep it moving?
I've had a small number of true one night stands, where it happened and then there was no talking again. Far more of those interactions evolved into one of those friends-with-benefits situations, where a "what're you up to tonight" text turns into a night of takeout and doin' it (well...thanks LL). But as for the successfully NSA fun kind of nights, I realized as I was talking to her about this that I had a very simple and effective two prong approach.
1. Do not get their phone number, and definitely don't give them yours. If you truly want a one time, easy thing, don't give them the idea that it could be a more regular thing or blossom into some type of emotional connection. Does this feel a little more sleazy than pretending that you'd like to see them again or take them out for dinner? Sure. But so what?! It's a one night stand. It's not meant to be a way to judge your moral actions or if you're a good person. It's about satisfaction.
2. Pretend they're dead (or castrated, if you must see them again). This is the part that I was not totally aware that I thought, but it makes the first part of my approach far more effective. If they're dead to you/castrated, then you won't be tempted to contact them again for sex or coffee or whatever flimsy cover you're using if it's someone you already interact with like a classmate or co-worker, but you can still interact with them if you must.
I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that part of them being dead. It's sort of an objectification of the person, in that after the boning has finished, they're dead to you. But if it protects you emotionally, and you're clear that they're after the same kind of night that you are, who cares? As long as it doesn't result in mistreating said person, it seems harmless to me.
Do you agree? How do you maintain emotional distance in one night stands? Talk to me.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, December 10, 2012
christmas toys, gender norming, and all that fun stuff.
One of my favorite times of the year is Christmas (or winter holiday season, if I'm going to be my politically correct, bleeding-heart liberal self). In part, this is because I love Christmas movies, songs, and the fact that people are generally slightly less mean during this season, but let's be real: I love gift guides. I love that in magazines or blogs they're sorted according to the kind of person you're shopping for (trendy gal pal? Outdoorsy dad? It's all covered!), and I guess my German instincts can appreciate sorting people like that.
But they're also deeply sexist, especially for kids, in a kind of way that makes me just queasy. Looking through the Black Fridays ads with my mama a few weeks ago, I made an observation that is by no means new in the feminist world, but which bears repeating and noticing at the very least.
Toys for boys involve fun things, movement, doing stuff, attacking, ACTION.
Toys for girls involve pink stuff, dressing up, taking care of things, PASSIVITY.
Sometimes, it's just that obvious. Check this ad from Toys R Us.
As you can see, it's blue, which means it's obviously for children born with penises. And in case you couldn't guess by all the pointing and shooting and building things, the title on the page assures you that these toys are ACTION-PACKED! Because these young leaders of men deserve nothing less than action, right?
I'll be honest: these toys look fun. Potentially damaging to the interior of a house, but fun to play with and explore and interact with.
The girls' toys? Not so much.
There's not really any description of the toys. There's just a lot of dolls, pink, Barbies, and sitting. Nothing flying or remote controlled (except perhaps the pink Cadillac for Barbie and her friends). It's all passive. It could perhaps be argued that it inspires more creativity because the child playing with these toys would have to invent the action themselves (which for me, as a child, meant making my Barbies awkwardly have sex with each other, while my stuffed animals watched and gossiped. Growing up in a small town, this is pretty true to life for what adolescence held for most of us). They're not just less fun, in my definition of fun, but they also set girls up to see themselves as the passive ones, the thing that is acted upon instead of the ones taking action themselves, the ones serving others. And that makes me sad.
That being said...there are signs of progress for our society (or what progress can be gleaned from the pages of the Toys R Us catalog!). Check this out:
See those kitchens on the right? BOYS AND GIRLS baking brownies and feeding their imaginary brats. Of course, the page is still outlined in pink, so you know this is really intended for those boy tots you already think are homos, but hey, it's better than nothing.
So. I beg of you to take some awareness into the holiday season as you shop for the kids in your life. Consider getting gender-neutral gifts, or something that flips the dichotomy on its head: buy that sweet little girl a fake fun, or get that boy the dress up set you know he'd love.
What're you getting the kids in your life? As a kid, did you get gender-specific gifts from family members and Santa?
Much love,
The Sheriff
But they're also deeply sexist, especially for kids, in a kind of way that makes me just queasy. Looking through the Black Fridays ads with my mama a few weeks ago, I made an observation that is by no means new in the feminist world, but which bears repeating and noticing at the very least.
Toys for boys involve fun things, movement, doing stuff, attacking, ACTION.
Toys for girls involve pink stuff, dressing up, taking care of things, PASSIVITY.
Sometimes, it's just that obvious. Check this ad from Toys R Us.
As you can see, it's blue, which means it's obviously for children born with penises. And in case you couldn't guess by all the pointing and shooting and building things, the title on the page assures you that these toys are ACTION-PACKED! Because these young leaders of men deserve nothing less than action, right?
I'll be honest: these toys look fun. Potentially damaging to the interior of a house, but fun to play with and explore and interact with.
The girls' toys? Not so much.
There's not really any description of the toys. There's just a lot of dolls, pink, Barbies, and sitting. Nothing flying or remote controlled (except perhaps the pink Cadillac for Barbie and her friends). It's all passive. It could perhaps be argued that it inspires more creativity because the child playing with these toys would have to invent the action themselves (which for me, as a child, meant making my Barbies awkwardly have sex with each other, while my stuffed animals watched and gossiped. Growing up in a small town, this is pretty true to life for what adolescence held for most of us). They're not just less fun, in my definition of fun, but they also set girls up to see themselves as the passive ones, the thing that is acted upon instead of the ones taking action themselves, the ones serving others. And that makes me sad.
That being said...there are signs of progress for our society (or what progress can be gleaned from the pages of the Toys R Us catalog!). Check this out:
See those kitchens on the right? BOYS AND GIRLS baking brownies and feeding their imaginary brats. Of course, the page is still outlined in pink, so you know this is really intended for those boy tots you already think are homos, but hey, it's better than nothing.
So. I beg of you to take some awareness into the holiday season as you shop for the kids in your life. Consider getting gender-neutral gifts, or something that flips the dichotomy on its head: buy that sweet little girl a fake fun, or get that boy the dress up set you know he'd love.
What're you getting the kids in your life? As a kid, did you get gender-specific gifts from family members and Santa?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Thursday, December 6, 2012
finally finally back!
Sorry that horrible hiatus (mostly horrible for me, since writing is one of the highlights of my life)! I got sick, then I spilled water on my laptop like a pro, then the repair dudes took a while to get it back to me...long story short, The Sheriff is back! Regular posting to resume on Monday. I am so psyched! We belong together, readers. We really do.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Woe is me!
Deep apologies for the lack of posting! I have a bunch of exciting things to blog about but there was this little hurricane named Sandy that swept through Philly, and now my laptop has taken an electronic dump on me so all posting has ground to a halt.
I'll be back soon! I hope.
Much love,
The Sheriff
I'll be back soon! I hope.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Sunday, October 21, 2012
vacation for illness
Hey ya'll,
The Sheriff is going to take a wee break this week from blogging, thanks to a debilitating illness that keeps morphing on my ass like a shapeshifter. I need some time to do more sleeping and fluid drinking, so have a nice week, and I'll see you here next Monday!
Much love,
The Sheriff
The Sheriff is going to take a wee break this week from blogging, thanks to a debilitating illness that keeps morphing on my ass like a shapeshifter. I need some time to do more sleeping and fluid drinking, so have a nice week, and I'll see you here next Monday!
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, October 19, 2012
friday links
Recovery A-Z...I really like this post. It's honest. Recovery ain't for sissies.
Traits associated with eating disorders are also seen commonly in highly successful people...no shock there for me, but it's nice to have science to confirm my suspicions.
Ever wonder what causes eating disorders? Is it culture, genetics, environment?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
lack of sex and self esteem: the power of choice
As you may have read, the Sheriff is giving celibacy the ol' college try. And seeing as no one is aggressively throwing sex in my general direction, it hasn't been too difficult. Kinda lonely, as we move into cuddling season, but not hard in and of itself (there's a dick pun in that sentence. I'll leave the mystery intact and let you find it). Celibacy really increasing my sense of pride and self-esteem. Which is a reversal of how it felt early on. Let me explain.
Like many, many, many people, I like feeling wanted and desirable and like I'm worth someone's time.And when someone chooses you so clearly, it's easy to let that distract you out of who you are and who you are when you're alone and what matters to you. This amnesia afflicts lots of young people (though it's not just limited to the follies of youth) when we're in that phase where who we are is still crystallizing and it's easy to fall into a relationship with someone and start to become who they want you to be or who you think they want you to be. I realized that it was easy for me to wind up somehow in one relationship after another, all of which were fine and decent and taught me things about myself...but only one of which in the last six years I can say I really, consciously chose. And that's a shame because to me, one of the central tenets of feminism and being a modern lady of sorts is that we choose how we live and the things we do--we choose when to have kids, where to live, whether or not to take our partner's last name in marriage, whether or not to get married at all or to spend your days with a cat in a one-bedroom apartment, perfectly fulfilled anyway.
Not flirting with and fucking has actually increased my self-esteem and sense of pride considerably--I'm choosing this, consciously. And when I do choose to have sex again, that'll be a conscious choice too. And I feel pretty damn good about that.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, October 15, 2012
an ode to my legs
Kate of Eat the Damn Cake regularly does an un-roast at the end of each post, where she praises a body part or feature of hers. In that spirit, I'm taking this Monday to praise my legs.
From the age of three onward, I wanted to be a ballerina. I was not necessarily a graceful child, and spent most of my time running around in the woods with no shoes on, talking to myself and scraping my knees, but at the barre, in front of the mirror in my leotard, I felt elegant (except that I was three and didn't know what that meant). Dance has been a part of my life ever since, and it's always been a space where my legs serve me well--fast moving, strong, sure of themselves.
They've changed drastically over the years--pudgy and childlike as a kid, stick thin and lean during the eating disorder years, then strong and solid again. They're not long and sexy like a Victoria's Secret model sashaying down the runway. I've had Marvel compliment them for being "short and strong," which is code for stocky and squat. And while there are definitely more graceful ways to express that, I actually like that they're stocky. I could pick them out of a lineup--they hold their own on the leg press machine, and always impress me with their flexibility. Even now, when they're decidedly more jiggly than perhaps ever before, I like them. They're not perfect, but they're entirely, wholly mine.
Do you have a body part you love, despite it's non-conventional features?
Much love,
The Sheriff
From the age of three onward, I wanted to be a ballerina. I was not necessarily a graceful child, and spent most of my time running around in the woods with no shoes on, talking to myself and scraping my knees, but at the barre, in front of the mirror in my leotard, I felt elegant (except that I was three and didn't know what that meant). Dance has been a part of my life ever since, and it's always been a space where my legs serve me well--fast moving, strong, sure of themselves.
They've changed drastically over the years--pudgy and childlike as a kid, stick thin and lean during the eating disorder years, then strong and solid again. They're not long and sexy like a Victoria's Secret model sashaying down the runway. I've had Marvel compliment them for being "short and strong," which is code for stocky and squat. And while there are definitely more graceful ways to express that, I actually like that they're stocky. I could pick them out of a lineup--they hold their own on the leg press machine, and always impress me with their flexibility. Even now, when they're decidedly more jiggly than perhaps ever before, I like them. They're not perfect, but they're entirely, wholly mine.
Do you have a body part you love, despite it's non-conventional features?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
celibacy updates
It's been about six weeks since I've gotten any action from anyone besides my $90 vibrator (sidebar: a worthwhile investment), and I've learned a few things.
My loneliness factor has increased quite a bit. I've got plenty of friends and family and work and hobbies to fill my time. I'm not depressed. I just really do miss the sex, the whole bit of it: the foreplay and the tension and the release and the warm body next to me afterwards.
Sex is a way of connecting the is profound and exquisite when done right, and pathetic and weak when it's not. It's sort of similar to food--you can have a delicious, healthy, warm meal that fills you up and makes you feel energetic and strong, or you can have cheap, queasy-inducing crap from the convenience store that fills you up once in a while but makes you feel coma-like and fat later. Maybe that analogy's a stretch, but I stand by it. The thought of breaking my celibacy streak for junk-food sex makes me sad and even more resistant to gettin' it in with anyone.
That's where I'm at with it so far.
Any questions on avoiding dick or what it's like or advice on how to keep it up?
Much love,
The Sheriff
My loneliness factor has increased quite a bit. I've got plenty of friends and family and work and hobbies to fill my time. I'm not depressed. I just really do miss the sex, the whole bit of it: the foreplay and the tension and the release and the warm body next to me afterwards.
Sex is a way of connecting the is profound and exquisite when done right, and pathetic and weak when it's not. It's sort of similar to food--you can have a delicious, healthy, warm meal that fills you up and makes you feel energetic and strong, or you can have cheap, queasy-inducing crap from the convenience store that fills you up once in a while but makes you feel coma-like and fat later. Maybe that analogy's a stretch, but I stand by it. The thought of breaking my celibacy streak for junk-food sex makes me sad and even more resistant to gettin' it in with anyone.
That's where I'm at with it so far.
Any questions on avoiding dick or what it's like or advice on how to keep it up?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, October 5, 2012
Friday Links
Feminist movements are key to creating big change? Who knew?!
I love this child.
You know that cute D-day picture of the sailor and nurse kissing? Reading this made me realize it's actually gross and sad.
Surely you've heard about Romney's animosity for Sesame Street. Here's some amazing sad Sesame Street images.
Much love,
The Sheriff
I love this child.
You know that cute D-day picture of the sailor and nurse kissing? Reading this made me realize it's actually gross and sad.
Surely you've heard about Romney's animosity for Sesame Street. Here's some amazing sad Sesame Street images.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, October 1, 2012
it's october...
...and you know what that means: Halloween decorations, pumpkin lattes, and breast cancer awareness month. Pink ish is EVERYWHERE.
This month, there's lot of push for awareness of breast cancer and raising money and research and terrifying articles in magazines. SELF did a feature on women in their 20s with cancer and I examined every part of my body for lumps...concluding only that my shin bones are frighteningly bumpy. But lately, statistics shows that formal breast self-exams (you know the kind--you have to do it monthly, following a complex navigational chart that hangs in your shower ominously) and casually touching your boobs and noticing their changes from their normal state are equally effective.
The takeaway? Get to know your body and yourself. If you know your boobs, you'll notice if there's a dimpling or lump or change. Self-awareness might not cure you of diseases, but it can help you take agency and catch them early on.
So. Do it. Feel your boobies!
Much love,
The Sheriff
 |
| source |
This month, there's lot of push for awareness of breast cancer and raising money and research and terrifying articles in magazines. SELF did a feature on women in their 20s with cancer and I examined every part of my body for lumps...concluding only that my shin bones are frighteningly bumpy. But lately, statistics shows that formal breast self-exams (you know the kind--you have to do it monthly, following a complex navigational chart that hangs in your shower ominously) and casually touching your boobs and noticing their changes from their normal state are equally effective.
The takeaway? Get to know your body and yourself. If you know your boobs, you'll notice if there's a dimpling or lump or change. Self-awareness might not cure you of diseases, but it can help you take agency and catch them early on.
So. Do it. Feel your boobies!
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, September 28, 2012
friday links
 |
| Feminist Disney. Hell yes. |
Mandy Stadt discusses that most men are actually terrified of being written about while dating a sex blogger. WORD.
The Not Your Baby app (which is free!) gives snarky comebacks to gross street harassment. I got it and it is veritably awesome.
A history of subversive knitting. Weirdly fascinating .
"Not only can’t you tell anything about my health or behaviors by looking at me, those things are not a barometer for my worthiness and are absolutely not any of your business."
Have a great weekend!
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Sheriff's Wisdom: Threesomes
This post is likely to be one in a series, Sheriff's Wisdom. I've been lucky enough to have friends and strangers and family members approach me with questions about sex, bodies, relationships, and lady issues of all kinds. Here goes the first week's column!
I was asked last year about this one by a friend (and was completely and totally flattered because I am by no means an expert, I just talk a lot about this stuff): What're the effects of bringing another person/people in the bedroom? How do you deal with potential hurt feelings/jealousy? How do you pick the right person?
First of all, to anyone considering adding another body to their bedroom, kudos on being open enough to look outside of the confines of monogamy. I would also like to say, if you have no interest in a threesome or no interest beyond the thoughts you have when you're alone with your vibrator, that's completely and totally fine and you're not a prude. Lately, I feel like it's treated as if it's a deserved thing for men in monogamous relationships (consider the lyrics of Kanye in "Birthday Song" where he says that if you've given your girl a BMW, you automatically qualify for a menage a trois! It's just that easy, gentlemen), and that women need to be increasingly freaky in order to get attention or to not seem frigid. Which is some bullshit.
However.
If that is not you, and you are genuinely interested in pursuing this option, read on!
I think that threesomes, done right, can be a fun way to make a monogamous relationship more expansive or a way to have casual fun that need not be with anyone you know. But if you're already in a relationship, picking that third wheel is an important part of making the process a positive experience. Your options are basically the following: A. Pick someone you already know. B. Pick someone who is mostly a stranger. There are pros and cons to both. With someone you know, you likely have more trust and can determine perhaps to a better extent how jealous you might feel--would it be okay with you to see the person who was giving your partner oral around campus? What if they were friends before and continued to hang out afterwards? Would that make you feel jealous and queasy? With a stranger, of course, there's different problems too--you don't know them at all, so they could be full of diseases, and even if they're not full of warts, they could present a threat to your relationship precisely because they're an unknown variable. In either combo, I strongly recommend a little alcohol to loosen things up and get it started--liquid courage is necessary when embarking on something as awkward to begin as three-way sexual interaction.
What to do with any feelings that arise? You must be comfortable with your partner and confident enough in your bond to feel okay explaining to them how it made you feel afterward. If a threesome leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth (pun not intended), you must be able to tell them that and own it and not feel apologetic. It's up to the two of you at that point for how to repair, but I'd suggest starting with some real good, monogamous, lovey dovey sex to restore a bit of confidence in your bond as a couple. Works wonders
Bottom line is: you need to have honest discussions before you do this is jealousy is an issue or something you think would flare up. You need to know your boundaries and your partner's boundaries well in advance, to avoid a meltdown mid-fuck. And you need to be comfortable, whatever that means for you. A threesome should be an experience where it's fun and exciting and sexy, not something that makes you feel insecure or bad about your performance or body or relationship.
Have you had a threesome? Any advice on this matter?
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--Follow FF on Facebook and Twitter!
I was asked last year about this one by a friend (and was completely and totally flattered because I am by no means an expert, I just talk a lot about this stuff): What're the effects of bringing another person/people in the bedroom? How do you deal with potential hurt feelings/jealousy? How do you pick the right person?
 |
| source |
First of all, to anyone considering adding another body to their bedroom, kudos on being open enough to look outside of the confines of monogamy. I would also like to say, if you have no interest in a threesome or no interest beyond the thoughts you have when you're alone with your vibrator, that's completely and totally fine and you're not a prude. Lately, I feel like it's treated as if it's a deserved thing for men in monogamous relationships (consider the lyrics of Kanye in "Birthday Song" where he says that if you've given your girl a BMW, you automatically qualify for a menage a trois! It's just that easy, gentlemen), and that women need to be increasingly freaky in order to get attention or to not seem frigid. Which is some bullshit.
However.
If that is not you, and you are genuinely interested in pursuing this option, read on!
I think that threesomes, done right, can be a fun way to make a monogamous relationship more expansive or a way to have casual fun that need not be with anyone you know. But if you're already in a relationship, picking that third wheel is an important part of making the process a positive experience. Your options are basically the following: A. Pick someone you already know. B. Pick someone who is mostly a stranger. There are pros and cons to both. With someone you know, you likely have more trust and can determine perhaps to a better extent how jealous you might feel--would it be okay with you to see the person who was giving your partner oral around campus? What if they were friends before and continued to hang out afterwards? Would that make you feel jealous and queasy? With a stranger, of course, there's different problems too--you don't know them at all, so they could be full of diseases, and even if they're not full of warts, they could present a threat to your relationship precisely because they're an unknown variable. In either combo, I strongly recommend a little alcohol to loosen things up and get it started--liquid courage is necessary when embarking on something as awkward to begin as three-way sexual interaction.
What to do with any feelings that arise? You must be comfortable with your partner and confident enough in your bond to feel okay explaining to them how it made you feel afterward. If a threesome leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth (pun not intended), you must be able to tell them that and own it and not feel apologetic. It's up to the two of you at that point for how to repair, but I'd suggest starting with some real good, monogamous, lovey dovey sex to restore a bit of confidence in your bond as a couple. Works wonders
Bottom line is: you need to have honest discussions before you do this is jealousy is an issue or something you think would flare up. You need to know your boundaries and your partner's boundaries well in advance, to avoid a meltdown mid-fuck. And you need to be comfortable, whatever that means for you. A threesome should be an experience where it's fun and exciting and sexy, not something that makes you feel insecure or bad about your performance or body or relationship.
Have you had a threesome? Any advice on this matter?
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--Follow FF on Facebook and Twitter!
Monday, September 24, 2012
weight liberation
I rarely learn genuinely new things about my closest friends. We talk nearly nonstop when we are together and all suffer from extreme honesty, but occasionally, you have those moments with your friends where honesty about something leads to a sense of expansion, not just in your friendship but also for yourself.
Saturday night, my friend Razor and I went out for a friend's birthday. Like most late night events that involve coordinating multiple portions of the evening and lots of different people, it was a slight clusterfuck in terms of logistics, but I had a blast. As we wrapped up the evening eating delicious late night pizza in the Gayborhood on the steps of some fancy building, we somehow got into a discussion about weight.
Weight is a funny and awkward thing. My friends know pretty much everything about me, from my sexual stories to the way my crying face looks, but until quite recently, did not know my weight. Two of my closest friends are almost exactly my same height; we all wear the same pants size. But evidently, our weights are drastically different. And as the person at the heaviest weight, I feel like a whale.
But as the one universally described as the strong one who does the heavy lifting AND the one with the big boobs and butt, I don't know why it's such a shock that I'm denser than they are. I guess somehow in my head I'm still attached to the idea of my eating disordered self, where I was always the tiniest by a long shot and so thin and lithe and itsy bitsy.
Talking weight with Razor made me realize there is something really liberating about sharing something that I hold so tightly and secretly to my obnoxiously large chest. More importantly, there is something incredibly freeing about sharing that info and not having it impact her opinion of me one damn bit.
Are you secretive about your weight? Or do you always under-report it by 5 pounds? Talk to me.
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--Follow FF on Facebook and Twitter!
Saturday night, my friend Razor and I went out for a friend's birthday. Like most late night events that involve coordinating multiple portions of the evening and lots of different people, it was a slight clusterfuck in terms of logistics, but I had a blast. As we wrapped up the evening eating delicious late night pizza in the Gayborhood on the steps of some fancy building, we somehow got into a discussion about weight.
Weight is a funny and awkward thing. My friends know pretty much everything about me, from my sexual stories to the way my crying face looks, but until quite recently, did not know my weight. Two of my closest friends are almost exactly my same height; we all wear the same pants size. But evidently, our weights are drastically different. And as the person at the heaviest weight, I feel like a whale.
But as the one universally described as the strong one who does the heavy lifting AND the one with the big boobs and butt, I don't know why it's such a shock that I'm denser than they are. I guess somehow in my head I'm still attached to the idea of my eating disordered self, where I was always the tiniest by a long shot and so thin and lithe and itsy bitsy.
Talking weight with Razor made me realize there is something really liberating about sharing something that I hold so tightly and secretly to my obnoxiously large chest. More importantly, there is something incredibly freeing about sharing that info and not having it impact her opinion of me one damn bit.
Are you secretive about your weight? Or do you always under-report it by 5 pounds? Talk to me.
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--Follow FF on Facebook and Twitter!
Friday, September 21, 2012
friday links
Mitt Romney actually hates your guts.
This is Obama's response to the Romney comments. Cheesy but gives me nice feelings inside anyway.
SEX ED MATTERS AND HERE'S WHY (totally worthy of all caps).
Weekly feminist GIF.
Oh, Pennsylvania: we are about to execute a guy who killed his sexual abuser.
Female soldiers to get their own body armor. Finally.
Much love,
The Sheriff
This is Obama's response to the Romney comments. Cheesy but gives me nice feelings inside anyway.
SEX ED MATTERS AND HERE'S WHY (totally worthy of all caps).
Weekly feminist GIF.
Oh, Pennsylvania: we are about to execute a guy who killed his sexual abuser.
Female soldiers to get their own body armor. Finally.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
eating disorders and recover: residue of a former life
Sometimes, I'm astonished by the amount of things in my life that are still influenced by my eating disorder. Two and a half years into recovery, and it's still there. Anything that was in your life for close to a decade is bound to leave residue on you, like a ring around the bathtub.
My ring is made up of drinking obscene amounts of water (formerly attempts to make purging easier or to feel fuller during periods of restriction) and tooth decay and chewing lots of gum to trick my hunger center and conceal the smell of puke that clung to me like a bad perfume. My ring is made up of a small number of inflexible feelings and rules and discomfort around new foods or people commenting on my eating--a simple comment from Marvel of "Wow, you must be enjoying that" feels like a slap in the face and completely disrupts my meal and turns me into a pillar of silence and the refusal to have any more food pass my lips. It's made up of a personality based on control and anxiety and OCD about my schedule and using my time effectively to be THE WORLD'S BEST AND MOST PRODUCTIVE AND MOST LOVED.
These are things that may never fully dissolve. And maybe that's okay. If nine years of a mental illness left my personality completely untouched, it'd be a bit sad. But I am incredibly glad that it's no longer my entire personality.
Much love,
The Sheriff
My ring is made up of drinking obscene amounts of water (formerly attempts to make purging easier or to feel fuller during periods of restriction) and tooth decay and chewing lots of gum to trick my hunger center and conceal the smell of puke that clung to me like a bad perfume. My ring is made up of a small number of inflexible feelings and rules and discomfort around new foods or people commenting on my eating--a simple comment from Marvel of "Wow, you must be enjoying that" feels like a slap in the face and completely disrupts my meal and turns me into a pillar of silence and the refusal to have any more food pass my lips. It's made up of a personality based on control and anxiety and OCD about my schedule and using my time effectively to be THE WORLD'S BEST AND MOST PRODUCTIVE AND MOST LOVED.
These are things that may never fully dissolve. And maybe that's okay. If nine years of a mental illness left my personality completely untouched, it'd be a bit sad. But I am incredibly glad that it's no longer my entire personality.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, September 17, 2012
okccupid and the sheriff: adventures in online dating
Last fall, while visiting my best friend of a thousand years in New Orleans, tipsy on wine and togetherness, we decided to create an online dating profile for me on OkCupid. Like lots of young people used to being surrounded in college by thousands of our datebale, fuckable peers, I struggled to find someone to date once I was released into the Real World. Plenty of people to just bone, since that's kinda all the bar scene offers, but I wanted something more substantial than that. OkCupid seemed like a reasonable and fun way to meet my needs.
First of all, no one warned me for how addicting it would be. OkCupid allows you to see who looks at you, when, and obviously, as a moderately attractive female with interest in men, I received a TON of attention. Within the first ten minutes of creating a profile, I had three messages. All of them turned out to be duds, but still! Attention is addicting, and so is harmless flirting.
Drawbacks of OkCupid include: MEAT MARKET. Wow. I got many messages from people seeking strictly sex, and because I was listed as bi, I also got a lot of messages from couples looking for the third wheel in their bedroom experiences. Additionally, I saw/received messages from many people I knew in real life, and some of whom I'd even dated! But this was kind of nice and humanizing: I wasn't the only person who, despite being wholly awesome, couldn't manage to meet people in the traditional way.
People, of course, also present themselves differently online. I had one date with a man who turned out to be a helluva lot older looking in person than I'd anticipated, and it was just awkward. It was like Liz Lemon on the date with the hot coffee guy who turned out to be 19 and she was 40 (sidebar: enjoy this. And this), where he kept making dated cultural references. I know I'll be there in a few years, but hey, I'm young and hot now, so I can say these things.
But it did make things easier in some sense: I could weed a person out if they said something like, "my biggest pet peeve is def angry feminists" or "I don't really read books." It can be harder to get people to say those things out loud when they're actively trying to impress you. Also, it's free and open to people who like their same gender, which is not true of all dating sites by a long shot.
Overall? I'd say it's worth a shot. Dating as a feminist is always hard because the whole world is dedicated to maintaining traditional gender norms and oppression and all that other crap. Online dating makes it a bit easier to weed out those people who you fundamentally disagree with. And I did wind up meeting someone wonderful, with whom I had a four hour conversation on our first date, and who I enjoyed talking to and boning long after that.
Have you given online dating a shot? Any luck with it?
Friday, September 14, 2012
Friday links
How do you take care of yourself?
What is self-objectification? Watch and learn.
Models without makeup...enlightening!
A woman with my first name with a podcast about fucking while feminist...soul mates?
AMY POEHLER AND WILL ARNETT ARE SEPARATING. Love very well may be dead.
A logical analysis of how bleak things would be if we each only have one real soul mate.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
updates from the road of celibacy
Celibacy is, so far, not terrible. It's also not a ton of fun...yet. Does it ever get to be fun? The Sheriff is used to getting it in pretty regularly, so given that it's only been about two weeks without sex in my life, whining to my friends about it is just pathetic. Two weeks is hardly real deprivation, but as anyone who has ever tried to break a habit (nail biting, drinking soda, cursing) knows, two weeks can feel like forever.
One of the big changes I've noticed has been the increased laziness in regards to my sexualized appearance. Thanks to a childhood trauma of one of my brother's friends pointing out my pubic hair in a bathing suit WHEN I WAS TEN, I've been pretty devoted to my razor. A few times a year, I try to grow my hair out just to see what it's like and because of my strong feminist sensibilities that remind me how silly it is to spend all this money, time, and energy removing something that occurs on my body naturally, but then it just gets itchy and weird and inappropriate scratching in public becomes necessary. So I cave and shave.
But given that work has started up again for me and that I usually wear pants and tights, that level of maintenance is fading. And that has brought about my first celibacy related epiphany: to be sexualized appears to be all appearance based. And not just that, but it's also artificial levels of appearances, as in removing body hair. At least, so far it is.
What do you think? Does your maintenance tend to fall off when sex is not a regularity? Or are you one of those brave people who doesn't bother with the razor?
Much love,
The Sheriff
One of the big changes I've noticed has been the increased laziness in regards to my sexualized appearance. Thanks to a childhood trauma of one of my brother's friends pointing out my pubic hair in a bathing suit WHEN I WAS TEN, I've been pretty devoted to my razor. A few times a year, I try to grow my hair out just to see what it's like and because of my strong feminist sensibilities that remind me how silly it is to spend all this money, time, and energy removing something that occurs on my body naturally, but then it just gets itchy and weird and inappropriate scratching in public becomes necessary. So I cave and shave.
But given that work has started up again for me and that I usually wear pants and tights, that level of maintenance is fading. And that has brought about my first celibacy related epiphany: to be sexualized appears to be all appearance based. And not just that, but it's also artificial levels of appearances, as in removing body hair. At least, so far it is.
What do you think? Does your maintenance tend to fall off when sex is not a regularity? Or are you one of those brave people who doesn't bother with the razor?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, September 10, 2012
the (stupid) terror of moving up a size
There is something especially demeaning about dressing rooms. The three-dimensional mirrors combined with the fluorescent lighting that shows every dimple and pore and the particularly horrible vision of seeing yourself half-bent over trying to squeeze jeans over your hips...it's horrible. Simply, utterly, effing horrible.
And it's made all the worse when you have to bump up a size in clothes.
Having endured the trauma of jeans shopping in Target about a month ago (seriously, do they standardize their sizes at all?) and finding all of the pants just wrong (too big, too small, too long), this has been on my mind lately. Sizing down is a huge self-esteem boost, at least for me--there's a frolicking, feeling-light-and-svelte sensation about finding your normal size is just a bit too big. But sizing up? It's a gut-dropping, oy-vey-I'm-disgusting type of feeling.
I think this comes from the fact that we get invested into this idea of who we are that's partially tied to our clothing size (thanks, anti-lady marketing!). When I was thinner, I felt like a lithe and graceful size X, and now that I'm a bit bigger, I feel like a bootylicious size Y. Because we've been conditioned and bought into this myth, it makes that moment of finding that you fit into the higher size more solidly a bit traumatic and disturbing. It disrupts this false sense of who you are that you've been sold.
However. As I've realized, the bumping up in size can also plainly just mean this: you've gained weight. Which often signals a change of sorts anyway (in lifestyle, eating habits, stress, upheaval, babies, what have you), and that's also hard to cope with, even without the fact that your clothes may not fit you properly. And that's okay. The changes, good and bad, lovely and disastrous, in your life are the important thing here. The bigger pants are just the physical proof of it. That's what I try to tell myself, anyway.
How do you deal with these kinds of moments? Do you keep fat clothes on hand for this, so as not to have to endure the pain of trying on new clothes?
Much love,
The Sheriff
And it's made all the worse when you have to bump up a size in clothes.
 |
| source |
Having endured the trauma of jeans shopping in Target about a month ago (seriously, do they standardize their sizes at all?) and finding all of the pants just wrong (too big, too small, too long), this has been on my mind lately. Sizing down is a huge self-esteem boost, at least for me--there's a frolicking, feeling-light-and-svelte sensation about finding your normal size is just a bit too big. But sizing up? It's a gut-dropping, oy-vey-I'm-disgusting type of feeling.
I think this comes from the fact that we get invested into this idea of who we are that's partially tied to our clothing size (thanks, anti-lady marketing!). When I was thinner, I felt like a lithe and graceful size X, and now that I'm a bit bigger, I feel like a bootylicious size Y. Because we've been conditioned and bought into this myth, it makes that moment of finding that you fit into the higher size more solidly a bit traumatic and disturbing. It disrupts this false sense of who you are that you've been sold.
However. As I've realized, the bumping up in size can also plainly just mean this: you've gained weight. Which often signals a change of sorts anyway (in lifestyle, eating habits, stress, upheaval, babies, what have you), and that's also hard to cope with, even without the fact that your clothes may not fit you properly. And that's okay. The changes, good and bad, lovely and disastrous, in your life are the important thing here. The bigger pants are just the physical proof of it. That's what I try to tell myself, anyway.
How do you deal with these kinds of moments? Do you keep fat clothes on hand for this, so as not to have to endure the pain of trying on new clothes?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, September 7, 2012
friday links
Did you know that the Williams sisters kick ass? Yup. They do.
The GOP really makes it rain, according to Tampa area strippers.
Some interesting reflections on balance.
This is a bit old now but so so good: rape fatigue and when there's just no anger left.
This is horrible--woman told not to breastfeed at work because it's nasty and she might spew everywhere.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, September 3, 2012
a new chapter for the sheriff: celibacy
Sex has often been a space of empowerment for me, as you may have gathered from this here lil blog. It's not something I've had much shame or embarrassment about, and something I love to advise people on.
And for now, it's something I'm taking a wee break from for a while. Four months, precisely.
Why would I deprive myself of something that I truly enjoy and that I find an empowering experience? Why does anyone deprive themselves of something they enjoy? To grow and be a better person and to have new things to bitch about to their friends.
Because of changes in my relationship status that are (hopefully!) temporary, I've decided I'm going to stay celibate for four months. This also means no phone number getting and text flirting and all that malarkey. My objective here is to keep things from making my life excessively murky and crowded with people in a way that is not really fun or fulfilling to me right now, but also because I need mental space and time--there's no need to bring dick into the picture.
I'm particularly curious about how this impacts my relationship to my body and myself, given that sex has been a pretty large part of my life throughout my entire adolescence and young adulthood so far, and I want to use this blog as a space to explore that and discuss it and see what changes occur. I'm excited about this. Because I'm doing this as a choice and not because of shame or guilt or in pursuit of some fucked up notion of purity, there's a sense of freedom in this commitment and that's where I'm at with it right now. We'll see if things change.
But don't worry. I won't be going anywhere, despite the planned lack of fornicating. I might even wind up blogging more than normal because of the deprivation!
Have you ever pursued a self-imposed break from sex? Or has a drought had some surprising side effects?
Much love,
The Sheriff
And for now, it's something I'm taking a wee break from for a while. Four months, precisely.
Why would I deprive myself of something that I truly enjoy and that I find an empowering experience? Why does anyone deprive themselves of something they enjoy? To grow and be a better person and to have new things to bitch about to their friends.
Because of changes in my relationship status that are (hopefully!) temporary, I've decided I'm going to stay celibate for four months. This also means no phone number getting and text flirting and all that malarkey. My objective here is to keep things from making my life excessively murky and crowded with people in a way that is not really fun or fulfilling to me right now, but also because I need mental space and time--there's no need to bring dick into the picture.
I'm particularly curious about how this impacts my relationship to my body and myself, given that sex has been a pretty large part of my life throughout my entire adolescence and young adulthood so far, and I want to use this blog as a space to explore that and discuss it and see what changes occur. I'm excited about this. Because I'm doing this as a choice and not because of shame or guilt or in pursuit of some fucked up notion of purity, there's a sense of freedom in this commitment and that's where I'm at with it right now. We'll see if things change.
But don't worry. I won't be going anywhere, despite the planned lack of fornicating. I might even wind up blogging more than normal because of the deprivation!
Have you ever pursued a self-imposed break from sex? Or has a drought had some surprising side effects?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, August 31, 2012
Friday links
I need a puppy. Here's why.
Some fun myths about female anatomy!
Unrelated to feminism and fornicating, but a great read nonetheless--how gun violence in Philly is creating a whole generation of traumatized people.
This post is phenomenal, about dealing with meta self esteem. READ IT.
Here in PA, a law was passed that regulates voters by requiring them to have an ID to vote. Not a big deal, right? Except that is disproportionately affects people who vote Democrat. Here's a guide to all the coverage on this important topic.
This woman married young and is ashamed of it. Good read!
A cool photo history of abortion law in the U.S.
Enjoy the weekend!
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
desirability and self-esteem: the danger of trusting beauty to the eye of the beholder
As we all know by now, a lady's number one goal in life is to be wanted, be pretty, and to be thin (having babies is a close second. Your uterus calls, woman!). This is reinforced to us by our women's magazines that pair the articles on how to raise your self-esteem with how to camouflage your gross body, by men's magazines that illustrate verbally and visually all that is wrong with you, and just everyday life.
That sarcastic critique aside...it's understandable why most of us want to feel desirable, to feel desired by someone. There is little else sexier on this planet than feeling like someone wants you. And it informs our self-esteem, like it or not.
But unfortunately, the pursuit of this feeling puts the power in the hands of others. Sometimes those others are people who care for you and your well-being, like a significant other or consistent and nice fuck buddy. But sometimes it means putting your own desirability into the hands of random people, like the frat boys on the bus who are (not so subtly) checking you out, or the guidos who yell out of their Mitsubishi, "Whoa, look at those tits!" (Which may or may not have happened to me waiting to cross the street in Atlantic City last wee). And that's sad and gross.
Furthermore, BEAUTY FADES. We can't control it as much as we'd like to believe we can, despite the magical powers and products of Sephora. As pointed out in Sarah Von's great post on What's The Point of Pretty?, it fades (according to society's youth-centered definition) each day and there's nothing you can do to preserve it precisely as it is.
And trying to fit into this mold of desirability holds us back in so many small but heartbreaking ways. It tears us down and we can't do anything about it if we keep giving ourselves away.
So what to do? Take it back! It's not easy to stop wanting attention and wanting to feel desirable, especially given all the conditioning and reinforcement ladies receive for it. But if you focus on doing the things that make you feel desirable and wanted, not the performance of what you think you should do, you're on the right track. Better yet, form a personality and full life so compelling, you won't have too much energy left to focus on if you're meeting the hotness requirements of the random strangers you meet in bars.
Do you ever fall into this desirability trap? Talk to me.
Much love,
The Sheriff
That sarcastic critique aside...it's understandable why most of us want to feel desirable, to feel desired by someone. There is little else sexier on this planet than feeling like someone wants you. And it informs our self-esteem, like it or not.
 |
| source |
But unfortunately, the pursuit of this feeling puts the power in the hands of others. Sometimes those others are people who care for you and your well-being, like a significant other or consistent and nice fuck buddy. But sometimes it means putting your own desirability into the hands of random people, like the frat boys on the bus who are (not so subtly) checking you out, or the guidos who yell out of their Mitsubishi, "Whoa, look at those tits!" (Which may or may not have happened to me waiting to cross the street in Atlantic City last wee). And that's sad and gross.
Furthermore, BEAUTY FADES. We can't control it as much as we'd like to believe we can, despite the magical powers and products of Sephora. As pointed out in Sarah Von's great post on What's The Point of Pretty?, it fades (according to society's youth-centered definition) each day and there's nothing you can do to preserve it precisely as it is.
And trying to fit into this mold of desirability holds us back in so many small but heartbreaking ways. It tears us down and we can't do anything about it if we keep giving ourselves away.
So what to do? Take it back! It's not easy to stop wanting attention and wanting to feel desirable, especially given all the conditioning and reinforcement ladies receive for it. But if you focus on doing the things that make you feel desirable and wanted, not the performance of what you think you should do, you're on the right track. Better yet, form a personality and full life so compelling, you won't have too much energy left to focus on if you're meeting the hotness requirements of the random strangers you meet in bars.
Do you ever fall into this desirability trap? Talk to me.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, August 27, 2012
"just playin'"--sexual harassment and pressure in the workplace
My freshman year of life was spent in a largely male-dominated environment--specifically, a beefy black man environment. Given my role in life as a petite, busty, blonde, there was natural humor to be found in the contrast between their role and appearance in the workplace and mine. A bro-like relationship developed.
There was often a lot of joking, some of it related to sex and bodies...which of course led to some directed at the Sheriff's outrageous shape. Given the fact that it is my workplace, I didn't disclose that I've been writing a blog about sex that includes stories of my VCH piercing or attempts at anal, but I can't hide my body, no matter how hard I try. Most of the jokes were presumably good-natured or at the very least not ill-intentioned, and some of them were even funny! But sometimes, I just felt uncomfortable. Having your butt or boobs verbally poked at gets old, at best. I started to wonder why sexual harassment/sexual annoyance when men get in groups is so damn common.
From what I've gathered and surmised, it looks like men bond over sexualizing women. Boys clubs are all about bonding over sexualizing women. Being able to comfortably talk to and bond with the men at my work is important to me, but why does blending in and being successful mean acting like a dude?
Because! As we all know, any subordinated group has to conform to the dominant group's ways in order to be seen and be successful. This ranges from women having to wear boring, sexless suits to work to be taken seriously or the Williams sisters' wearing of beads on the tennis court being criticized as inappropriate.
So how do I point out that sometimes it makes me uncomfortable without being a shrill harpy? I think changing the subject simply is the best way. Sometimes the jokes are genuinely funny, so changing the subject or gently pointing out that I don't want to hear that should be reserved for the more obnoxious situations.
What do you do about this? Ever encounter it in your world?
Much love,
The Sheriff
 | |||||||
| the best picture of "bros" I could find |
From what I've gathered and surmised, it looks like men bond over sexualizing women. Boys clubs are all about bonding over sexualizing women. Being able to comfortably talk to and bond with the men at my work is important to me, but why does blending in and being successful mean acting like a dude?
Because! As we all know, any subordinated group has to conform to the dominant group's ways in order to be seen and be successful. This ranges from women having to wear boring, sexless suits to work to be taken seriously or the Williams sisters' wearing of beads on the tennis court being criticized as inappropriate.
So how do I point out that sometimes it makes me uncomfortable without being a shrill harpy? I think changing the subject simply is the best way. Sometimes the jokes are genuinely funny, so changing the subject or gently pointing out that I don't want to hear that should be reserved for the more obnoxious situations.
What do you do about this? Ever encounter it in your world?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, August 24, 2012
friday links
In case you were under a rock: Todd Akin's insanely preposterous and wrong comments about how when a woman is legitimately raped, her body will "shut down" a pregnancy. Because SCIENCE.
From Eve Ensler: Dear Todd Akin (fun fact: I hugged Eve Ensler at an event at Smith. It was awesome).
Could I be pregnant? flowchart (warning: it's not scientific, like Todd Akin's views on rape).
Shocking! Romney has no support from black voters.
Just in case you were feeling too secure about yourself--here's everything that dudes think is wrong with you.
Much love,
The Sheriff
From Eve Ensler: Dear Todd Akin (fun fact: I hugged Eve Ensler at an event at Smith. It was awesome).
Could I be pregnant? flowchart (warning: it's not scientific, like Todd Akin's views on rape).
Shocking! Romney has no support from black voters.
Just in case you were feeling too secure about yourself--here's everything that dudes think is wrong with you.
Much love,
The Sheriff
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
lessons from the freshman year of life
As many of ya'll know, the Sheriff (yours truly) went to Smith College, the land of feminism and liberalism and far too many nose rings. Looking back, everything is in some sort of Instagram style filter--I ate exotic foods downtown! I debated the important of gender and class until 3AM! I had #whitegirlcollegeproblems! Even as I juggled part-time jobs and occasional douche bag significant other woes, life was good.
And it came to an end. And I stumbled into the Real World during one of the worst recessions since the Depression, with about $35K in debt and a terribly UNspecific plan to do important things that mattered, fabulously. The freshman year of life was tumultuous, no doubt about it. I over-drafted my account far more than I'd like to admit, wasted time and energy on men who were so far from right, and endured my first actual back pain from late night lesson planning. But I also signed my first lease, learned how to use the Philly subway, and enjoyed some incredible late night dancing, all while inching ever so slightly closer to figuring out my purpose in life.
Some lessons and reflections from this year, some of which I'm still processing:
--It's okay to still not know what you want to do in life. But forward motion is what matters. Be proactive, do research, explore some options. Take some risks! It's terrifying in this economy to abandon a well-paying gig for the unknown, so I'm not advocating putting yourself in the poorhouse, but this process of finding your way towards work and a life that fulfills you is the important part, not just reaching the destination of ultimate success and fulfillment that we imagine is waiting at the end of the rainbow.
--On that note: having a big, scary notion of success that motivates you in a positive way is exhilarating and wonderful. But it's really far more important to try to ditch those definitions of success that make you feel like you're a failure or not enough. To quote Kate of Eat The Damn Cake (which I'm clearly obsessed with), "I think about it like this: GOLD MEDAL NOBEL PEACE PRIZE PULITZER A MILLION DOLLARS GIANT BOOK DEAL HOUSEHOLD NAME SUPERMODEL MOVIE STAR EVERYONE IN THE WORLD LOVES YOU MORE THAN THEY LOVE THEIR KIDS." I usually think of success like this too. It doesn't help that my parents are mildly disappointed by the fact that I'm not at least a Senator of a small state yet. And it's doing me absolutely NO GOOD. Click here to read more of that excerpt from ETDC. Seriously. Do it.
--Know your checking account balance. Err'day. Overdraft fees suck.
--Find the things that you loved about college and try to re-create them in whatever place you're in now. Loved having a community of women? Reach out to people who live near you, or nurture the friendships you already have developed. Missing the thirsty Thursdays? Make sure that you enjoy after work happy hours! Wish you still had that intellectual stimulation? Join a class or go to lectures at a nearby campus.
--Give yourself time to be by yourself. It'll let you figure things out, like what's really important to you and what hobbies you actually like when you're not busy avoiding writing papers.
--RELAX. There is actually no deadline by which you must have your life figured out or else be branded a failure (none that anyone's told me about yet!). There are lots of ways to live an incredible and fulfilling life that makes you happy without it being totally perfect. You will get there. And I will to.
What've you learned this year, freshman year of life or not?
Much love,
The Sheriff
And it came to an end. And I stumbled into the Real World during one of the worst recessions since the Depression, with about $35K in debt and a terribly UNspecific plan to do important things that mattered, fabulously. The freshman year of life was tumultuous, no doubt about it. I over-drafted my account far more than I'd like to admit, wasted time and energy on men who were so far from right, and endured my first actual back pain from late night lesson planning. But I also signed my first lease, learned how to use the Philly subway, and enjoyed some incredible late night dancing, all while inching ever so slightly closer to figuring out my purpose in life.
Some lessons and reflections from this year, some of which I'm still processing:
--It's okay to still not know what you want to do in life. But forward motion is what matters. Be proactive, do research, explore some options. Take some risks! It's terrifying in this economy to abandon a well-paying gig for the unknown, so I'm not advocating putting yourself in the poorhouse, but this process of finding your way towards work and a life that fulfills you is the important part, not just reaching the destination of ultimate success and fulfillment that we imagine is waiting at the end of the rainbow.
--On that note: having a big, scary notion of success that motivates you in a positive way is exhilarating and wonderful. But it's really far more important to try to ditch those definitions of success that make you feel like you're a failure or not enough. To quote Kate of Eat The Damn Cake (which I'm clearly obsessed with), "I think about it like this: GOLD MEDAL NOBEL PEACE PRIZE PULITZER A MILLION DOLLARS GIANT BOOK DEAL HOUSEHOLD NAME SUPERMODEL MOVIE STAR EVERYONE IN THE WORLD LOVES YOU MORE THAN THEY LOVE THEIR KIDS." I usually think of success like this too. It doesn't help that my parents are mildly disappointed by the fact that I'm not at least a Senator of a small state yet. And it's doing me absolutely NO GOOD. Click here to read more of that excerpt from ETDC. Seriously. Do it.
--Know your checking account balance. Err'day. Overdraft fees suck.
--Find the things that you loved about college and try to re-create them in whatever place you're in now. Loved having a community of women? Reach out to people who live near you, or nurture the friendships you already have developed. Missing the thirsty Thursdays? Make sure that you enjoy after work happy hours! Wish you still had that intellectual stimulation? Join a class or go to lectures at a nearby campus.
--Give yourself time to be by yourself. It'll let you figure things out, like what's really important to you and what hobbies you actually like when you're not busy avoiding writing papers.
--RELAX. There is actually no deadline by which you must have your life figured out or else be branded a failure (none that anyone's told me about yet!). There are lots of ways to live an incredible and fulfilling life that makes you happy without it being totally perfect. You will get there. And I will to.
What've you learned this year, freshman year of life or not?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Monday, August 20, 2012
poor Missouri has to deal with Todd Akin
Did you know that victims of legitimate rape don't get pregnant?
Yup. It's true. If you're Todd Akin and inventing your own science.
Recently, this Representative from Missouri (a Republican nominee for Senate) made the claim that "legitimate rape" victims don't get pregnant from their rape.
Problematic for several absolutely awful reasons.
1. This is just so bad, it seems like an article from The Onion.
2. There is no illegitimate rape. If a sexual act occurs and consent was not part of it, it's rape. Even without a rape. Even without scary bushes and a creepy van.
3. The fact that a MAN is trying to define rape and trying to restrict a woman's access to abortion after a crime has been committed on her body and left her with an involuntary pregnancy is beyond understanding.
4. What doctors is he talking to that tell him these things? Why do we have a significant portion of our country that thinks it can ignore science and facts about things ranging from the functioning of a females reproductive system to the erosion of our planet?
Oy. SO MANY FEELINGS. Your thoughts on this absurdity?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Yup. It's true. If you're Todd Akin and inventing your own science.
Recently, this Representative from Missouri (a Republican nominee for Senate) made the claim that "legitimate rape" victims don't get pregnant from their rape.
Problematic for several absolutely awful reasons.
1. This is just so bad, it seems like an article from The Onion.
2. There is no illegitimate rape. If a sexual act occurs and consent was not part of it, it's rape. Even without a rape. Even without scary bushes and a creepy van.
3. The fact that a MAN is trying to define rape and trying to restrict a woman's access to abortion after a crime has been committed on her body and left her with an involuntary pregnancy is beyond understanding.
4. What doctors is he talking to that tell him these things? Why do we have a significant portion of our country that thinks it can ignore science and facts about things ranging from the functioning of a females reproductive system to the erosion of our planet?
Oy. SO MANY FEELINGS. Your thoughts on this absurdity?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, August 17, 2012
friday links
Monday, August 13, 2012
the whole mess of religion and birth control
Someone on Twitter (shout out @ThortsMagorts!) asked me recently for a post on birth control and religion and what all the fuss is about. If birth control violates your religion, why don't you just not take it? Which, frankly, is a great question.
It's complicated.
Most religious people generally are sane folks who don't meddle too much in people's personal affairs. But a fair share of them seek ways to limit women's access to abortion and birth control. There's arguments about the sanctity of life and not trying to act like God by controlling the number and timing of children (like the Duggars, from 19 and Counting or whatever number of kids they're up to now).
But often it's about controlling women and their bodies and their choices. With the recent provisions of the Affordable Care Act, insurance companies are required to cover contraception with no co-pays for the women whose health care they are covering. Even employers with a religious lean. Which some people are pretty upset about, because unfortunately self-righteousness means that religious people think they know what's best for everyone and want to extend their religion to EVERYBODY.
The law actually leaves quite a bit of space for religious freedom--of individuals, not of businesses since businesses are not people. If a woman does not want contraception to be covered by her insurance company or employer, she won't buy it or ask them to cover it. Boom. Done. Sounds like religious freedom to me.
Do you think that employers/insurance companies should have to cover birth control?
Much love,
The Sheriff
 |
| source |
It's complicated.
Most religious people generally are sane folks who don't meddle too much in people's personal affairs. But a fair share of them seek ways to limit women's access to abortion and birth control. There's arguments about the sanctity of life and not trying to act like God by controlling the number and timing of children (like the Duggars, from 19 and Counting or whatever number of kids they're up to now).
But often it's about controlling women and their bodies and their choices. With the recent provisions of the Affordable Care Act, insurance companies are required to cover contraception with no co-pays for the women whose health care they are covering. Even employers with a religious lean. Which some people are pretty upset about, because unfortunately self-righteousness means that religious people think they know what's best for everyone and want to extend their religion to EVERYBODY.
The law actually leaves quite a bit of space for religious freedom--of individuals, not of businesses since businesses are not people. If a woman does not want contraception to be covered by her insurance company or employer, she won't buy it or ask them to cover it. Boom. Done. Sounds like religious freedom to me.
Do you think that employers/insurance companies should have to cover birth control?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Friday, August 10, 2012
friday links
I love this list: Is Your Relationship Normal?
Yes.
Ever wonder what kind of woman would get a late-term abortion? Check this out.
I love everything about this: the upside of ugly, and why we shouldn't teach girls that being beautiful is a worthy goal.
Not necessarily about fornicating or feminism, but interesting: what foreigners think of America.
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow us on Twitter! Or Facebook!
Yes.
Ever wonder what kind of woman would get a late-term abortion? Check this out.
I love everything about this: the upside of ugly, and why we shouldn't teach girls that being beautiful is a worthy goal.
Not necessarily about fornicating or feminism, but interesting: what foreigners think of America.
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow us on Twitter! Or Facebook!
Monday, August 6, 2012
Leave Lolo Jones Alone
The New York Times featured an article on Saturday written by Jere Longman entitled "For Lolo Jones, Everything Is Image." Longman basically kinda roasts Lolo, as you could probably guess from the title, and claims that she's basically just a bunch of image and sexy acting but without any athletic achievement to back it up.
Hold on, boy.
I am not a fan of Lolo. Or the Olympics in general. It's fascinating, in a vague kind of way, like how I feel about the fact that it is possible to buy skin cream that costs over $100 an ounce. But I don't like how this guy seems to be unfairly targeting her (a woman of color) for doing something that ALL athletes do (creating an image and having endorsements). You think Ryan Lochte is just naturally that much of a frat boy (...well, maybe)?
The fact that he takes issue with how she portrays herself as "vixen, virgin, victim" is especially irksome. Vixen? She's a vixen for posing for nude photos (which were pretty tasteful, by the way)? Na, I don't buy it. Dozens of female athletes are oversexualized and their bodies fetishized not for their skill or talent but for their taut muscles. Jones is no different. As for her virginity, she's open about it and how it impacts her dating life. Marketing strategy? Perhaps. But by talking it up, the media is only helping her to work it harder. As for her being a victim, she has mentioned her hard childhood in interviews (poor, father was in and out of jail, moved around a lot, lived in the basement of a Salvation Army). But having watched some of them, it hardly seems like she's playing up her victimhood. She's telling her story, openly. She's not begging for a handout, just stating the facts of her life.
And why is she getting so much attention? Because last time she participated in the Olympics, she was in the lead and on the way to a goal when she tripped on a hurdle, and then cried on the track. This is the perfect setup for a redemption based comeback story for her, so of course there's more focus on her than the other track and field athletes. Also? This is America. Not many folks care about track and field. We can focus on one, maybe two athletes for each sport.
What do you think? Is he right to critique her for being all style, no substance?
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow me on Twitter!
PPS--for a humorous take on the oversexualization of female athletes, check this out: sports photographed the same way they do to volleyball.
Hold on, boy.
I am not a fan of Lolo. Or the Olympics in general. It's fascinating, in a vague kind of way, like how I feel about the fact that it is possible to buy skin cream that costs over $100 an ounce. But I don't like how this guy seems to be unfairly targeting her (a woman of color) for doing something that ALL athletes do (creating an image and having endorsements). You think Ryan Lochte is just naturally that much of a frat boy (...well, maybe)?
The fact that he takes issue with how she portrays herself as "vixen, virgin, victim" is especially irksome. Vixen? She's a vixen for posing for nude photos (which were pretty tasteful, by the way)? Na, I don't buy it. Dozens of female athletes are oversexualized and their bodies fetishized not for their skill or talent but for their taut muscles. Jones is no different. As for her virginity, she's open about it and how it impacts her dating life. Marketing strategy? Perhaps. But by talking it up, the media is only helping her to work it harder. As for her being a victim, she has mentioned her hard childhood in interviews (poor, father was in and out of jail, moved around a lot, lived in the basement of a Salvation Army). But having watched some of them, it hardly seems like she's playing up her victimhood. She's telling her story, openly. She's not begging for a handout, just stating the facts of her life.
And why is she getting so much attention? Because last time she participated in the Olympics, she was in the lead and on the way to a goal when she tripped on a hurdle, and then cried on the track. This is the perfect setup for a redemption based comeback story for her, so of course there's more focus on her than the other track and field athletes. Also? This is America. Not many folks care about track and field. We can focus on one, maybe two athletes for each sport.
What do you think? Is he right to critique her for being all style, no substance?
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow me on Twitter!
PPS--for a humorous take on the oversexualization of female athletes, check this out: sports photographed the same way they do to volleyball.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Friday Links!
 |
| I don't really give a hoot about the Olympics, but this is pretty damn great. |
How to deal with "pretty sister syndrome" in the office.
Taking back the "F" word from CampusFeminist.
This is a fantastic article about the risks and rewards that female journalists face.
Why it's hard for men to say bye bye to their bachelor status. I have some feelings about this one.
Thanks to the economy, the U.S. birth rate has fallen dramatically. Interesting to think about the implications for that.
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow us on Twitter! Or Facebook!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
gym membership guilt
I've got a gym membership, like a good girl in her 20s should. Sweat Fitness in Philly. It's a nice enough gym, not too expensive if they give you the special holiday discounts, and clean. Kinda industrial-cool decor. And I do enjoy working out, using my body, and feeling strong doing it. But I have never felt such guilt as I do each day when I look at my innocent little gym card on my key ring and think how long it's been since I've swiped it on my way in the building.
There's something just so seemingly good about people who go to the gym regularly. That trim lady with the enviable triceps who is there, every morning, virtuously working her body. The buff guy, staring himself in the mirror while he crunches his obliques. Clearly, these people just have that discipline and are just simply better people than mere mortals like myself, who would often prefer to stay in bed that extra hour or just go home and take off my shoes after a long day on my feet.
The problem here lies in two things: that we attribute being good with going to the gym/being fit and that we use such black and white thinking around fitness and body.
If we don't go to the gym, we are bad, fat, lazy, and likely to get diabetes and die early. If we do go to the gym, we are thin, light, virtuous, good people. It's one or the other The fitspo on Pinterest (ya know the ones: pictures of disembodied taught abs with words like "Sweat is fat crying" and "Train insane or remain the same" that are supposed to inspire you towards fitness) does nothing but promote this black and white thinking--either you are working towards improving your body and hitting the gym, or you're a lazy slob with a muffin top. Staying wrapped up in such self-promoted guilt makes it easy for women to be exploited or distracted from real issues or just enjoying our lives.
So do your best to do what feels good for you, whether that's a strict gym routine or a more relaxed approach to fitness. When the black and white thinking and guilt creep in, remind yourself that fitness is not a measure of your inherent goodness and that you are already enough, dusty gym membership and all.
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow us on Twitter! Or Facebook!
There's something just so seemingly good about people who go to the gym regularly. That trim lady with the enviable triceps who is there, every morning, virtuously working her body. The buff guy, staring himself in the mirror while he crunches his obliques. Clearly, these people just have that discipline and are just simply better people than mere mortals like myself, who would often prefer to stay in bed that extra hour or just go home and take off my shoes after a long day on my feet.
The problem here lies in two things: that we attribute being good with going to the gym/being fit and that we use such black and white thinking around fitness and body.
If we don't go to the gym, we are bad, fat, lazy, and likely to get diabetes and die early. If we do go to the gym, we are thin, light, virtuous, good people. It's one or the other The fitspo on Pinterest (ya know the ones: pictures of disembodied taught abs with words like "Sweat is fat crying" and "Train insane or remain the same" that are supposed to inspire you towards fitness) does nothing but promote this black and white thinking--either you are working towards improving your body and hitting the gym, or you're a lazy slob with a muffin top. Staying wrapped up in such self-promoted guilt makes it easy for women to be exploited or distracted from real issues or just enjoying our lives.
So do your best to do what feels good for you, whether that's a strict gym routine or a more relaxed approach to fitness. When the black and white thinking and guilt creep in, remind yourself that fitness is not a measure of your inherent goodness and that you are already enough, dusty gym membership and all.
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow us on Twitter! Or Facebook!
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
chris brown, homophobia, & hypermasculinity; or, why chris brown is such a douchebag
Once again, Chris Brown has showed the world what a nice young man he is. Reportedly, when a journalist asked him on his way out of da club what he thought of Frank Ocean's recent revelation of his bisexuality, Brown's response was (allegedly), "Man, no homo."
Cuuuuute.
Of course, Brown is denying it and taking to his favorite platform of Twitter to do so. But whether he made this specific homophobic comment is sort of beside the point, since he evidently has a history of doing so (sidebar: he also has a history of pretty terrible lyrics in his songs lately with dubious, grandiose claims, including the song "Sweet Love," wherein he croons "Tonight is the night/That I change your life/Let me control your body." Change my life by controlling my body? I'm good, Chris Brown. I'm good).
So. Why is Brown such an asshole?
Well, I can't account for why he beat the living crap out of Rihanna, but as for his homophobia, I've got a good idea. It's because of hyper-masculinity and in particular how important it is within the black community.
If being a man is defined as being the aggressor, the breadwinner, the One Who Handles Business, than the act of allowing oneself to be penetrated by another man (like a lowly woman! gasp!) is perhaps the lowest you can get (hence the term "down low" for the sexual switch that sometimes happens in prisons). An emphasis on these traditional values also explains Brown's ridiculous behavior generally (like when he continues to respond excessively in Twitter fights instead of just laying down like he should), as does looking at him with a lens for misogyny. Sure, he sings sappy songs and sensual tunes about his love for women('s vaginas), but serious hatred of gay men and the act of gay sex is rooted in a hatred for women and their perceived vulnerability.
What say ya'll? Is Chris Brown a hyper-masculine misogynist, or am I just tossing around big words for the hell of it?
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow us on Twitter! Or Facebook!
Cuuuuute.
Of course, Brown is denying it and taking to his favorite platform of Twitter to do so. But whether he made this specific homophobic comment is sort of beside the point, since he evidently has a history of doing so (sidebar: he also has a history of pretty terrible lyrics in his songs lately with dubious, grandiose claims, including the song "Sweet Love," wherein he croons "Tonight is the night/That I change your life/Let me control your body." Change my life by controlling my body? I'm good, Chris Brown. I'm good).
So. Why is Brown such an asshole?
Well, I can't account for why he beat the living crap out of Rihanna, but as for his homophobia, I've got a good idea. It's because of hyper-masculinity and in particular how important it is within the black community.
If being a man is defined as being the aggressor, the breadwinner, the One Who Handles Business, than the act of allowing oneself to be penetrated by another man (like a lowly woman! gasp!) is perhaps the lowest you can get (hence the term "down low" for the sexual switch that sometimes happens in prisons). An emphasis on these traditional values also explains Brown's ridiculous behavior generally (like when he continues to respond excessively in Twitter fights instead of just laying down like he should), as does looking at him with a lens for misogyny. Sure, he sings sappy songs and sensual tunes about his love for women('s vaginas), but serious hatred of gay men and the act of gay sex is rooted in a hatred for women and their perceived vulnerability.
What say ya'll? Is Chris Brown a hyper-masculine misogynist, or am I just tossing around big words for the hell of it?
Much love,
The Sheriff
PS--follow us on Twitter! Or Facebook!
Monday, July 30, 2012
reddit rapists have something to say
I'm gonna be real--I'm not always on the top of the latest, coolest tech-savvy thing. I'm lusting over an iPhone (mostly so I can use the adorable case I bought preemptively), but otherwise, I'm pretty behind on the times. I just got a Twitter about a month ago, people (shameless plug: follow FF here!). And I certainly don't know much about Reddit, but I have seen that infographic that shows it's a pretty male-dominated social media source, about 75% dudes or so. It's the masculine, bro-like balance of Pinterest's wedding boards and craft rooms, I suppose.
Whatever Reddit is, recently there was a thread started on it about sexual assault. Not too unusual, except that it featured the POV of the people doing the raping (warning--that link contains some excerpts that might be triggering or just unsettling).
There were lots of (often gross, misogynistic, creepy) perspectives shared, and a weird level of insight into the way that these men thought about the act. But most of them really just saw it as sex. Not as a power play (though several did mention the fact that men generally have superiod physical strength), not as an act of patriarchy, but as sex. Sex gone awry, perhaps. But sex nonetheless.
I found it startling how a few of them noted that they wanted to rape but couldn't go through with it once they looked the woman in the face; once faced by the fact that this was an actual person that they were about to violate, they stopped. The detail with which they were able to account these incidents was also startling.
But most startling is to be able to read these accounts that confirm, from the rapist's perspective, that rape happens usually not because of a stranger in the bushes with a knife, but generally because of a friend who got too drunk and stopped listening to protests or treating women like people or chose to hear his/her hormones instead of her (perhaps audible, perhaps not) protestations.
We need to have more open conversations about rape, yes. But bigger than that, we need to work to see women as people, truly as people, not as objects for sexual conquest or social advancement. We need to train people to see sex not as a sport or competition, but as an act mutually enjoyed between two people in which consent is actively pronounced through language or the body, not just assumed.
Readers--what do you think of this thread? Can we learn something from it, or is just a chance for rapists to feel better about what they did by knowing they're not alone?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Whatever Reddit is, recently there was a thread started on it about sexual assault. Not too unusual, except that it featured the POV of the people doing the raping (warning--that link contains some excerpts that might be triggering or just unsettling).
There were lots of (often gross, misogynistic, creepy) perspectives shared, and a weird level of insight into the way that these men thought about the act. But most of them really just saw it as sex. Not as a power play (though several did mention the fact that men generally have superiod physical strength), not as an act of patriarchy, but as sex. Sex gone awry, perhaps. But sex nonetheless.
I found it startling how a few of them noted that they wanted to rape but couldn't go through with it once they looked the woman in the face; once faced by the fact that this was an actual person that they were about to violate, they stopped. The detail with which they were able to account these incidents was also startling.
But most startling is to be able to read these accounts that confirm, from the rapist's perspective, that rape happens usually not because of a stranger in the bushes with a knife, but generally because of a friend who got too drunk and stopped listening to protests or treating women like people or chose to hear his/her hormones instead of her (perhaps audible, perhaps not) protestations.
We need to have more open conversations about rape, yes. But bigger than that, we need to work to see women as people, truly as people, not as objects for sexual conquest or social advancement. We need to train people to see sex not as a sport or competition, but as an act mutually enjoyed between two people in which consent is actively pronounced through language or the body, not just assumed.
Readers--what do you think of this thread? Can we learn something from it, or is just a chance for rapists to feel better about what they did by knowing they're not alone?
Much love,
The Sheriff
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)