Hey lovely readers,
For the month of July we're going to have to make FF a private blog. Sad.
But you can still be part of our discussions about body image, female identity, sexism, feminism, and sex!
All you need to do is post your email address in the comments section OR email it to kdavis@smith.edu. We will add you to our list.
After July 31st, normal totally public blogging will resume.
Thanks!
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Fun Facts
I was reading "Devices and Desires"by Andrea Tone yesterday (for my internship, not just for fun) which is about birth control (what else?) and decided that I wanted to share some of my favorite parts with ya'll. (Btw, this book is great. I highly recommend it. It is easy to read, filled with crazy information and entertaining)
Congress passed the Comstock Laws in 1873. These laws prohibited the sale of contraceptive material through the mail or across state lines by using the power of the federal government to regulate interstate commerce as justification. Throughout the 1800's contraceptive material had been widely available at druggists and even street corner shops. However, the methods were slightly less the reliable, since scientists still knew very little about how women got pregnant. (Condoms were frequently made out of animal intestine until the vulcanization of rubber made it possible to produce rubber condoms cheaply.) Until the 1920's, many doctors thought that the "safe period" was during the middle of the month b/c animals ovulate during menses, so they thought women did as well. Whoa were they wrong! In the late 19th century, people including suffragists, free love advocates, and progressives began to criticize the availability of contraceptives because they were "socially disruptive, morally offensive, and physically dangerous." By disassociating sex from procreation, they encouraged lewdness and lust especially in men.
Margaret Sanger (as ya'll know) spent her life trying to spread contraception to the masses (sometimes using eugenicist arguments to make her point). She said "no woman can call herself free who does not own and control her own body." However, most people (men) disagreed. When Sanger was arrested in 1918 for violating NY state law (it was illegal to give away or sell bc info), the judge ruled against her. He "rejected the idea that a woman has the right to copulate with a feeling of security that there will be no resulting conception." (ummmm...I object.)
Unfortunately, there is also a dirty side to birth control. Most advocates justified the need for birth control at least partially by saying that it was needed to "better" the human race. (aka getting rid of anyone who deviated from standard, healthy, white male especially anyone with mental issues or "sexual perversions") The Supreme Court ruled in Buck vs. Bell (1924) that coercive sterilization was a valid exercise of the state's right to protect public health. This applied many to people in mental institutions. (At this time, masturbation was considered a sexual perversion that could earn you a stint in a mental institution and thus, sterilization). This ruling also justified the sterilization of thousands of Native American women in the 1970's. (In some tribes, half of the women were forcibly sterilized) By 1932, 26 states had laws permitting forced sterilization. As if this doesn't suck enough, the lawyers at the Nuremberg Trials defending the Nazis used these sterilization laws as justification for Nazi policy. However, after the Holocaust, eugenics lost a lot of support (once people saw exactly how far it could go). '
Since companies were not allowed to market contraceptive devices, "feminine hygiene" became a term used for anything they claimed had contraceptive properties. Lysol (yes, the disinfectant) was the most popular contraceptive (in the form of a douche) from 1940-1960. Although it was ineffective (some studies said it was less effective than withdrawal), the company was not liable for any claims b/c it was not marketed as a contraceptive. Also, it caused burns, and death in some causes.
In the 1950's, Margaret Sanger and her peeps began to support research to find a "magic pill" for birth control. (later, known as the Pill). However, the federal government refused to fund this research. In 1959, President Eisenhower said "I cannot imagine anything more emphatically a subject that is not a proper political or government activity or function or responsibility...The government will not, as long as I am here, have a positive political doctrine in its program that has to do with the problem of birth control." (Apparently, 1/2 of the of the voting, tax-paying population doesn't merit government research or regulation) Luckily, his successors felt otherwise and approved FDA funding of research into the Pill which was approved in 1960(and used by 1.2 million women within the first two years)
Since it was still illegal to market any contraceptive information (due to obscenity laws) the Pill was originally sold to cure menstrual problems. (However, the dose was about 100 times stronger than it is today, so it actually caused more problems than it helped, but no babies) This changed in 1965 when the Supreme Court ruled (Griswold v. CT) that the right to privacy clause protected MARRIED couples including privacy in the bedroom which gave women a right to have access to birth control. UNMARRIED women were not allowed to the Pill for reasons other than menstrual probs until 1972 when the Supreme Court again ruled that the privacy clause protects us as well. Wow, its been a long journey.
Angry yet? I am. But ever thankful that I have access to affordable and safe, birth control. I wish whole-heartedly that all women around the world had this access and this choice. Sorry for another history lesson! (They will probably stop, but I am a history major, so i can't guarantee anything)
Lots of Love,
Lady Lola
Congress passed the Comstock Laws in 1873. These laws prohibited the sale of contraceptive material through the mail or across state lines by using the power of the federal government to regulate interstate commerce as justification. Throughout the 1800's contraceptive material had been widely available at druggists and even street corner shops. However, the methods were slightly less the reliable, since scientists still knew very little about how women got pregnant. (Condoms were frequently made out of animal intestine until the vulcanization of rubber made it possible to produce rubber condoms cheaply.) Until the 1920's, many doctors thought that the "safe period" was during the middle of the month b/c animals ovulate during menses, so they thought women did as well. Whoa were they wrong! In the late 19th century, people including suffragists, free love advocates, and progressives began to criticize the availability of contraceptives because they were "socially disruptive, morally offensive, and physically dangerous." By disassociating sex from procreation, they encouraged lewdness and lust especially in men.
Margaret Sanger (as ya'll know) spent her life trying to spread contraception to the masses (sometimes using eugenicist arguments to make her point). She said "no woman can call herself free who does not own and control her own body." However, most people (men) disagreed. When Sanger was arrested in 1918 for violating NY state law (it was illegal to give away or sell bc info), the judge ruled against her. He "rejected the idea that a woman has the right to copulate with a feeling of security that there will be no resulting conception." (ummmm...I object.)
Unfortunately, there is also a dirty side to birth control. Most advocates justified the need for birth control at least partially by saying that it was needed to "better" the human race. (aka getting rid of anyone who deviated from standard, healthy, white male especially anyone with mental issues or "sexual perversions") The Supreme Court ruled in Buck vs. Bell (1924) that coercive sterilization was a valid exercise of the state's right to protect public health. This applied many to people in mental institutions. (At this time, masturbation was considered a sexual perversion that could earn you a stint in a mental institution and thus, sterilization). This ruling also justified the sterilization of thousands of Native American women in the 1970's. (In some tribes, half of the women were forcibly sterilized) By 1932, 26 states had laws permitting forced sterilization. As if this doesn't suck enough, the lawyers at the Nuremberg Trials defending the Nazis used these sterilization laws as justification for Nazi policy. However, after the Holocaust, eugenics lost a lot of support (once people saw exactly how far it could go). '
Since companies were not allowed to market contraceptive devices, "feminine hygiene" became a term used for anything they claimed had contraceptive properties. Lysol (yes, the disinfectant) was the most popular contraceptive (in the form of a douche) from 1940-1960. Although it was ineffective (some studies said it was less effective than withdrawal), the company was not liable for any claims b/c it was not marketed as a contraceptive. Also, it caused burns, and death in some causes.
In the 1950's, Margaret Sanger and her peeps began to support research to find a "magic pill" for birth control. (later, known as the Pill). However, the federal government refused to fund this research. In 1959, President Eisenhower said "I cannot imagine anything more emphatically a subject that is not a proper political or government activity or function or responsibility...The government will not, as long as I am here, have a positive political doctrine in its program that has to do with the problem of birth control." (Apparently, 1/2 of the of the voting, tax-paying population doesn't merit government research or regulation) Luckily, his successors felt otherwise and approved FDA funding of research into the Pill which was approved in 1960(and used by 1.2 million women within the first two years)
Since it was still illegal to market any contraceptive information (due to obscenity laws) the Pill was originally sold to cure menstrual problems. (However, the dose was about 100 times stronger than it is today, so it actually caused more problems than it helped, but no babies) This changed in 1965 when the Supreme Court ruled (Griswold v. CT) that the right to privacy clause protected MARRIED couples including privacy in the bedroom which gave women a right to have access to birth control. UNMARRIED women were not allowed to the Pill for reasons other than menstrual probs until 1972 when the Supreme Court again ruled that the privacy clause protects us as well. Wow, its been a long journey.
Angry yet? I am. But ever thankful that I have access to affordable and safe, birth control. I wish whole-heartedly that all women around the world had this access and this choice. Sorry for another history lesson! (They will probably stop, but I am a history major, so i can't guarantee anything)
Lots of Love,
Lady Lola
Monday, June 28, 2010
A Very FF Book Review
I'm staying in a Quad House for until the very beginning of August. For those not familiar with Smith College's culture (and it is its own culture, best believe), the Quad is both geographically and socially a thing apart from the rest of campus: they party harder, and are "straighter" on average. The Quad tends to be where Smithies who maybe at first didn't really wanna be Smithies live, because it resembles a normal college scene more. And so they have books like He's Just Not That Into You in their house libraries, something I promptly took advantage of.
Having never seen Sex and the City (yes, never), I don't really give a fuck that this book was written by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo who are, as touted on the cover, a writer and a consultant for SATC. Based on their pictures on the book flap's back cover, Greg is a rapidly aging man with bad hair (I'm talkin' n*sync bad hair) and Liz needs to get outside in the sunshine and perhaps find a similarly less 90s camisole.
The book is horrendously written and poorly edited, full of Greg quipping about how he loves women in their underwear and Liz trying to apologize for Greg but merely repeating what he says (with some false commiseration and repeatedly telling us she's no girly girl and she has no emotions LOOK I'M NOT A BITCH LIKE YOU etc etc). Each chapter is based around another way to tell he's not that into you (if he doesn't ask you out, if he doesn't immediately bone you, and so on) and is based around fake letters written in a style that is deliberately intended to make women sound whiney, stupid and dependent to Greg that he answers in an extraordinarily patronizing tone.
Needless to say, I hated the book. It might've been funny if the authors (and apparently lots of other people too, since it was a #1 NYT best seller) didn't actually believe what bullshit they were touting.
One of the real gems of the book comes along on just page nine, when Greg, attempting to convince women to be more passive in their love lives, so eloquently says, "You seem to think at times that we're 'too shy' or 'we just got out of something.' Let me remind you: men find it very satisfying to get what they want (particularly after a difficult day of running the world)."
Wow. I don't really think I need to tell you why that made my blood boil. Similarly, he repeatedly says, "Don't let him trick you into asking him out." Did he give you his number, which made you think he might actually want you to call him? YOU'RE SO STUPID, because, as Greg reminds us silly half-witted ladies, "just because you like to lead doesn't mean he wants to dance." So if you like to take charge and demonstrate your interest in a person, too bad, because that means you're desperate and you don't believe you're worth being pursued. Or, as they put it, "You are good enough to be asked out."
While there were many many (I mean MANY) more awful quotes that I could put here, for the sake of brevity I'll limit myself. In the chapter titled he's just not that into you if he doesn't want to marry you, Liz starts off sounding promising, acknowledging that plenty of men, women, and experts in anthropology, psychology and other fields think that marriage is a deeply flawed and outdated institution worth examining. But then she just shits all over her almost intelligent point when she says, "But is that what we're talking about here? Don't let him make you feel stupid about wanting to feel loved." As if marriage was the only way to feel truly loved. As if you needed that badge of a ring and an overpriced ceremony and reception to show the world that goddammit you ARE worth loving.
The one thing I can credit the book with is that is tells you to stop wasting your time on people who do drugs/drink more than you're comfortable with, those who only want to see you when they're shitfaced, those who are other people's spouses (!). But then it takes this message of knowing your own worth and kicks it to the curb by telling you how stupid you over and over for trying to be more active in your love life or being understanding of someone's matrimonial fears or any other supposed dating "sins." It's a sexist piece of crap, bottom line.
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
Having never seen Sex and the City (yes, never), I don't really give a fuck that this book was written by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo who are, as touted on the cover, a writer and a consultant for SATC. Based on their pictures on the book flap's back cover, Greg is a rapidly aging man with bad hair (I'm talkin' n*sync bad hair) and Liz needs to get outside in the sunshine and perhaps find a similarly less 90s camisole.
The book is horrendously written and poorly edited, full of Greg quipping about how he loves women in their underwear and Liz trying to apologize for Greg but merely repeating what he says (with some false commiseration and repeatedly telling us she's no girly girl and she has no emotions LOOK I'M NOT A BITCH LIKE YOU etc etc). Each chapter is based around another way to tell he's not that into you (if he doesn't ask you out, if he doesn't immediately bone you, and so on) and is based around fake letters written in a style that is deliberately intended to make women sound whiney, stupid and dependent to Greg that he answers in an extraordinarily patronizing tone.
Needless to say, I hated the book. It might've been funny if the authors (and apparently lots of other people too, since it was a #1 NYT best seller) didn't actually believe what bullshit they were touting.
One of the real gems of the book comes along on just page nine, when Greg, attempting to convince women to be more passive in their love lives, so eloquently says, "You seem to think at times that we're 'too shy' or 'we just got out of something.' Let me remind you: men find it very satisfying to get what they want (particularly after a difficult day of running the world)."
Wow. I don't really think I need to tell you why that made my blood boil. Similarly, he repeatedly says, "Don't let him trick you into asking him out." Did he give you his number, which made you think he might actually want you to call him? YOU'RE SO STUPID, because, as Greg reminds us silly half-witted ladies, "just because you like to lead doesn't mean he wants to dance." So if you like to take charge and demonstrate your interest in a person, too bad, because that means you're desperate and you don't believe you're worth being pursued. Or, as they put it, "You are good enough to be asked out."
While there were many many (I mean MANY) more awful quotes that I could put here, for the sake of brevity I'll limit myself. In the chapter titled he's just not that into you if he doesn't want to marry you, Liz starts off sounding promising, acknowledging that plenty of men, women, and experts in anthropology, psychology and other fields think that marriage is a deeply flawed and outdated institution worth examining. But then she just shits all over her almost intelligent point when she says, "But is that what we're talking about here? Don't let him make you feel stupid about wanting to feel loved." As if marriage was the only way to feel truly loved. As if you needed that badge of a ring and an overpriced ceremony and reception to show the world that goddammit you ARE worth loving.
The one thing I can credit the book with is that is tells you to stop wasting your time on people who do drugs/drink more than you're comfortable with, those who only want to see you when they're shitfaced, those who are other people's spouses (!). But then it takes this message of knowing your own worth and kicks it to the curb by telling you how stupid you over and over for trying to be more active in your love life or being understanding of someone's matrimonial fears or any other supposed dating "sins." It's a sexist piece of crap, bottom line.
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
The Sweet Life
Right now, my life is pretty sweet because among other things, I am single which means that my emotions are stable and fairly stress-free. This is the first time that I have been single for a long period of time (slightly over a year) since I was 17. In the past four years, I have had two significant, life-changing relationships. And right now, I am overjoyed not to be in one.
My relationship with Ephram lasted about two years from the end of high school to the end of sophomore year at Smith. (This is where my life would make an excellent, although sad, movie.) We fell in love the summer after senior year of high school. We partied, went to the beach; basically spending anytime when I was not working together. Our first semester at school, we decided to have an open relationship because he was going to school in South Carolina and me in Massachusetts (read: 16 hours of driving apart=epic long distance). However, we got back together over Thanksgiving break, after I realized that being with him made me the happiest I've ever been. Over the next 1 1/2 years, we had our good times and bad (this is the montage scene of us alternating fighting and making up). But in January of 2009, he lost his ROTC scholarship and enlisted in the Army. (movie climax here) We broke up in May, after he had been at basic training for a month, and in August, he was stationed in Italy. (Currently, he is serving in Afghanistan.) Last spring, I dealt with the uncertainty of the future, and then last summer/fall dealt with us not being together anymore. (movie resolution) This winter, I finally started to embrace the single life. I had gotten over the epic crisis of breaking up with Ephram and started to see who else was out there. This spring, I lived the casual hooking up phase to the fullest.
If I had to do it all over again, I would. My relationship with Ephram gave me the opportunity to experience so much, and also taught me a ton of shit about love, and myself. I also learned that you cannot control the future, no matter how hard you might try. Although it was fucking hard, I had my heart broken and lived through it. I'm not saying that being single is better than being in a relationship for me or anyone. I think that everyone should have a variety of romantic experiences. But right now, I'm perfectly happy not to be in one. (Although sexually frustrated at times.)
Lots of Love,
Lady Lola
My relationship with Ephram lasted about two years from the end of high school to the end of sophomore year at Smith. (This is where my life would make an excellent, although sad, movie.) We fell in love the summer after senior year of high school. We partied, went to the beach; basically spending anytime when I was not working together. Our first semester at school, we decided to have an open relationship because he was going to school in South Carolina and me in Massachusetts (read: 16 hours of driving apart=epic long distance). However, we got back together over Thanksgiving break, after I realized that being with him made me the happiest I've ever been. Over the next 1 1/2 years, we had our good times and bad (this is the montage scene of us alternating fighting and making up). But in January of 2009, he lost his ROTC scholarship and enlisted in the Army. (movie climax here) We broke up in May, after he had been at basic training for a month, and in August, he was stationed in Italy. (Currently, he is serving in Afghanistan.) Last spring, I dealt with the uncertainty of the future, and then last summer/fall dealt with us not being together anymore. (movie resolution) This winter, I finally started to embrace the single life. I had gotten over the epic crisis of breaking up with Ephram and started to see who else was out there. This spring, I lived the casual hooking up phase to the fullest.
If I had to do it all over again, I would. My relationship with Ephram gave me the opportunity to experience so much, and also taught me a ton of shit about love, and myself. I also learned that you cannot control the future, no matter how hard you might try. Although it was fucking hard, I had my heart broken and lived through it. I'm not saying that being single is better than being in a relationship for me or anyone. I think that everyone should have a variety of romantic experiences. But right now, I'm perfectly happy not to be in one. (Although sexually frustrated at times.)
Lots of Love,
Lady Lola
Sunday, June 27, 2010
misunderstood! or, why the fuck is feminism still a dirty word
I have about a billion other posts that I'm working on, but this one kinda slapped me on the face.
It still, constantly, boggles my mind how people completely stereotype and blatantly misinterpret feminism. It's fine if it's not a term you want to take on yourself (though, to me, that does mean that you do not believe in gender equality). But to totally dismiss the message of a group without even giving the slightest consideration to its possible (gasp) validity confuses me, especially if you are part of the oppressed group that it seeks to help.
A facebook comment stating that "it is very sad the way feminist women treat men" was what sparked this entry. I don't know the person who wrote that at all, but I have to wonder: WHAT feminist women? WHAT treatment exactly are they referring to?
It seems to me that this kind of purposeful ignorance of what feminism is actually about (that little ideal America loves to hype so much called equality, crazy idea that) stems from thinking that it's about dominating men or overthrowing them entirely and keeping them underground and using them only for reproduction or some other ridiculous bullshit. It's about finally reaching equal status.
That doesn't mean I'm crazy or hairy or want a penis. It means I want to be able to walk the streets without fearing for my safety or being harassed no matter what I'm wearing or doing or who I'm with. It means that I expect to have control over my reproductive system and to take control of my life in concert with that as to how many babies I do or do not want. It means that I'd love to never have to have another friend tell me she's been sexually assaulted or raped. It means I expect equal pay for equal work, no excuses. It means I'd love to not see images of women in sexually compromised positions used to advertise clothing.
It means I hold my own and take responsibility for my life instead of depending on a man to provide, and if that means I'm "treating" him badly, fine. Guilty as charged. I personally have found that it makes for better relationships: I don't keep them around because I think I need them but because I actively make the choice to enjoy their companionship. That's more authentic to me than being dependent. But hey, I'm a crazy feminist, right?
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
It still, constantly, boggles my mind how people completely stereotype and blatantly misinterpret feminism. It's fine if it's not a term you want to take on yourself (though, to me, that does mean that you do not believe in gender equality). But to totally dismiss the message of a group without even giving the slightest consideration to its possible (gasp) validity confuses me, especially if you are part of the oppressed group that it seeks to help.
A facebook comment stating that "it is very sad the way feminist women treat men" was what sparked this entry. I don't know the person who wrote that at all, but I have to wonder: WHAT feminist women? WHAT treatment exactly are they referring to?
It seems to me that this kind of purposeful ignorance of what feminism is actually about (that little ideal America loves to hype so much called equality, crazy idea that) stems from thinking that it's about dominating men or overthrowing them entirely and keeping them underground and using them only for reproduction or some other ridiculous bullshit. It's about finally reaching equal status.
That doesn't mean I'm crazy or hairy or want a penis. It means I want to be able to walk the streets without fearing for my safety or being harassed no matter what I'm wearing or doing or who I'm with. It means that I expect to have control over my reproductive system and to take control of my life in concert with that as to how many babies I do or do not want. It means that I'd love to never have to have another friend tell me she's been sexually assaulted or raped. It means I expect equal pay for equal work, no excuses. It means I'd love to not see images of women in sexually compromised positions used to advertise clothing.
It means I hold my own and take responsibility for my life instead of depending on a man to provide, and if that means I'm "treating" him badly, fine. Guilty as charged. I personally have found that it makes for better relationships: I don't keep them around because I think I need them but because I actively make the choice to enjoy their companionship. That's more authentic to me than being dependent. But hey, I'm a crazy feminist, right?
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
naked.
Sometimes, Smith College is exactly what the stereotypes would have you think it is. Well-educated, spunky women sitting around and passionately discussing women's issues...or constantly gittin' nekkid. Last night was a combination of the two (no, it was not an orgy).
I'm lucky enough to have TWO ENTIRE SMITH COLLEGE QUAD HOUSES to myself for a week, a situation that simply begged for a little soiree. Since all two of the men I know that are staying in the area this summer were out of town, the gathering was all female. As the Malibu and fancy pants beer flowed, the Gaga played and hide-and-seek ensued, the idea of streaking surfaced. And it was one of the best things I've done in ages.
My relationship with my naked self has evolved substantially in the past few years: from posing spreadin' my junk for Sexhibition to sleeping naked to showing off my clitoral hood piercing to near strangers, I've challenged myself to move outside my comfort zone and get more comfortable with my body, with no clothes to hide the stretch marks or bacne. And last night's naked streaking and pizza eating was a happy sort of culmination of that.
What was interesting to me is that the body-talk that surfaces around naked college women is so intensely different in tone than it was in high school. A few years ago, it was mostly gym class locker room bemoaning one's flaws and waiting expectantly for the compliments sure to flow, a la Mean Girls ("I wanna lose three pounds." *pause* "NOOOO you're so skinny!"), and while it may have provided a temporary rush (people think I'm hot! omigod!) was also deeply indicative of the heaps of insecurities that most high school girls harbor about their bodies.
But last night, it was so different. It was complimentary and genuine and wonderful; I heard women of all different body types and sizes "Damn! Look at your six pack!" and "You've got a perfect vagina," as well as reassuring that there is no such thing as an ugly boob. There was the revealing of insecurities too (I explained that I remove most of my body hair because it reminds me of lanugo, the downy fuzz my body developed as a survival technique in the worst of my anorexia; someone complained jokingly about having a small chest; one of us talked uber candidly, as is her style, about her crooked vagina), but it wasn't done in the desperate sense of needing to be seen and heard and acknowledged as beautiful. It was stated as a fact, an acceptance of what one is, the good and the bad.
Maybe the booze rose-tinted my experience of this (one girl quietly left in part because it was too much naked for her, so it was not all lovely), but it felt good and safe and lovely to be able to just be with our bodies around each other without the fear of scrutiny or judgment. I'm not sure if that's a reflection of Smith's culture or of our maturity, but I adored it all the same.
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
I'm lucky enough to have TWO ENTIRE SMITH COLLEGE QUAD HOUSES to myself for a week, a situation that simply begged for a little soiree. Since all two of the men I know that are staying in the area this summer were out of town, the gathering was all female. As the Malibu and fancy pants beer flowed, the Gaga played and hide-and-seek ensued, the idea of streaking surfaced. And it was one of the best things I've done in ages.
My relationship with my naked self has evolved substantially in the past few years: from posing spreadin' my junk for Sexhibition to sleeping naked to showing off my clitoral hood piercing to near strangers, I've challenged myself to move outside my comfort zone and get more comfortable with my body, with no clothes to hide the stretch marks or bacne. And last night's naked streaking and pizza eating was a happy sort of culmination of that.
What was interesting to me is that the body-talk that surfaces around naked college women is so intensely different in tone than it was in high school. A few years ago, it was mostly gym class locker room bemoaning one's flaws and waiting expectantly for the compliments sure to flow, a la Mean Girls ("I wanna lose three pounds." *pause* "NOOOO you're so skinny!"), and while it may have provided a temporary rush (people think I'm hot! omigod!) was also deeply indicative of the heaps of insecurities that most high school girls harbor about their bodies.
But last night, it was so different. It was complimentary and genuine and wonderful; I heard women of all different body types and sizes "Damn! Look at your six pack!" and "You've got a perfect vagina," as well as reassuring that there is no such thing as an ugly boob. There was the revealing of insecurities too (I explained that I remove most of my body hair because it reminds me of lanugo, the downy fuzz my body developed as a survival technique in the worst of my anorexia; someone complained jokingly about having a small chest; one of us talked uber candidly, as is her style, about her crooked vagina), but it wasn't done in the desperate sense of needing to be seen and heard and acknowledged as beautiful. It was stated as a fact, an acceptance of what one is, the good and the bad.
Maybe the booze rose-tinted my experience of this (one girl quietly left in part because it was too much naked for her, so it was not all lovely), but it felt good and safe and lovely to be able to just be with our bodies around each other without the fear of scrutiny or judgment. I'm not sure if that's a reflection of Smith's culture or of our maturity, but I adored it all the same.
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
Friday, June 25, 2010
feminist friday links!
Every other blog in the world posts links on Fridays, so why not us (perhaps because I'll forget next week)? If you find a fantastic link related to fucking, feminism, or something similar, post it in the comments section.
Car dealers are still using sexism as a sales tactic...now to beat the recession! How shocking.
This one pissed me off in part because it uses the uber-sophisticated "you-pussy-you-play-like-a-girl" line of thought, but also because that Chiicago Tribune is mocking the Flyers (and while I don't give two shits about hockey, it's nice to see Philly not suck at things (215 represent!).
And finally, insulting gendered iPad ads. Because clearly I'd prefer a badly written romance novel by Nicholas Sparks to the NYT. Thanks Apple for clarifying my desires!
Have a fabulous weekend, ya'll!
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
Car dealers are still using sexism as a sales tactic...now to beat the recession! How shocking.
This one pissed me off in part because it uses the uber-sophisticated "you-pussy-you-play-like-a-girl" line of thought, but also because that Chiicago Tribune is mocking the Flyers (and while I don't give two shits about hockey, it's nice to see Philly not suck at things (215 represent!).
And finally, insulting gendered iPad ads. Because clearly I'd prefer a badly written romance novel by Nicholas Sparks to the NYT. Thanks Apple for clarifying my desires!
Have a fabulous weekend, ya'll!
Much love,
The Albright Sheriff
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