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Reblogged from The Black Feminist Manifesto

"Our culture teaches us about shame--it dictates what is acceptable and what is not. We weren't born craving perfect bodies. We weren't born afraid to tell our stories. We weren't born with a fear of getting too old to feel valuable. We weren't born with a Pottery Barn catalog in one hand and heartbreaking debt in the other. Shame comes from outside of us--from the messages and expectations of our culture. What comes from inside of us is a very human need to belong, to relate."

--Brene Brown

I Thought It was Just Me: Women Reclaiming Power and Courage in a Culture of Shame

(via In Community and Resistance)

There's only one thing I hate more than an offensive ad

And that's when people try to explain why the offensive ad isn't offensive, or worse, why people who are offended shouldn't be. 

First off, if something offends someone, it offends them. You have no right to explain to me what should or should not offend me. And just because something isn't offensive to you doesn't mean it can't be offensive to me or anyone else.

Secondly, okay, here is the ad:

Ya'll know me. I have no problems with embracing female sexuality and letting her be sexually active and liberated and whatnot. I'm in The Vagina Monologues this upcoming weekend, and sex is, in fact, almost all I've been talking about recently. I'm evidently getting a bit of a reputation for it (not like I give a shit). I applaud all of that; it makes me really happy that we can see women as beings with their own sexual desires, rather than just as the playthings of men in advertising. Yay this campaign for doing that.

But that's where my applause ends. Drastically and unceremoniously.

1. "We’re way too quick to cry slut-shaming, racism, sexism, fattism, etc., in advertising, even when there are clearly the best of intentions at play." Not to be a conspiracy theorist, but that's exactly what they want us to think! If activists and non-dominant populations don't stand up when they're being shamed, belittled, ridiculed, othered, marginalized, made fun of, dehumanized, etc., then who will? If these things aren't rallied against, advertising companies will never learn, and we will let shaming, belittling, ridiculing, other-ing, marginalizing, making fun of, and dehumanizing such populations be a normal part of daily life in our society. By being silent, we'd be providing tacit approval.

2. I also just think that implying that that woman's vagina is a place to which people can check in is incredibly objectifying. You check into fast food places, not into women unless you're viewing that woman solely as a sex object.

3. And even if they're not directly suggesting that a high-ish number of sexual partners increases ones chance of contracting HIV/AIDS, it definitely plays into that stereotype. The company should be aware of those implications.

(These comments were originally posted in regard to this Thought Catalog article that makes me sad because I like them a lot.)

This woman believes orgasms can change the world.

Idk if I'm entirely with her, but I might just have to try, haha. 

On a serious note, I'm in this year's rendition of The Vagina Monologues on campus in like 3 weeks, and if you want to know why VagMos (and vaginas and orgasms) are important, watch this:

A revolutionary concept: "Power through candor."

I'm pretty sure that's what I aspire to practice every single day. I'm excited to share in Lidia-Anain's new project, SexLoveJoy, a platform dedicated to that concept, specifically through:

• Women candidly answering difficult questions about sexuality, gender, love, relationships and life.
• Women revealing their secret desires, fears, thoughts and struggles.
• Women celebrating sexuality, gender, love and relationships in ALL their forms.
• Women exposing common threads that unite us as women.
• Women promoting respect for the differences among us by building AND maintaining a SAFE venue for ALL women to tell their stories.
• Women being brave, candid and sharing our power with one another.

According to the website, "SexLoveJoy is a video web series and collection of essays in which brave women fearlessly share and talk about things most keep hidden away in their secret places."

That sounds like exactly my cup of tea. If you'd like to get involved, use my referral link!

http://sexlovejoy.com/yqy9f 

I'm sure I'm supposed to find something wrong with this

or at least I would be supposed to if I was a hardcore enough feminist, but mannnn...I think this shit is hilarious. Mad props to B for sharing it with me.

Taboo Subject Number Next

Disclaimer: I am going to talk about porn. If this offends you, there is non-sexual social commentary in the previous post; keep scrolling.

I am talking about porn for two reasons. 1) Because one of my favorite bloggers, Ev'Yan over at Sex, Love, and Liberation, asked me to, and 2) because I think it's stupid that society treats it as something that shouldn't be openly talked about, especially by a woman. And we all know I don't stand for stupid. 

So, Ev'Yan, followers, people of the internet: I have a declaration to make. I, too, am a woman who enjoys watching porn! I also like reading erotic literature [the real stuff, though I'll settle for a "romance novel" if I'm feeling particularly sappy], but the visuals get me off faster. When I have a nice extended period of time to devote to self-pleasure, I like to read naughty stories with real porn playing on a separate tab so I can hear it--the combo of words and sounds drives me crazy. 
She asked what my first experience with porn was like. I'm not sure I've told anyone this story in full, so yay secrets time! I was twelve. This may seem shockingly young to most of you, but it should be noted that getting my period at the age of 9 meant learning about my body very early, including how to make it feel good. I had been masturbating for quite some time already, but I discovered porn when I was twelve. I discovered it by accident, with my female cousin (age 11 at the time). We had been watching some movie on Cinemax earlier in the day [small things I miss about living in a two-parent household: we could once afford movie channels] and then we put a DVD in to watch with my little brother and sister. The movie finished after whatever time Cinemax becomes "Skinemax," and when we switched back to TV mode from Video mode, two White couples were just starting to get busy in the middle of a campsite. There were children present (my brother and sister, who were 7 and 8 at the time), so we switched the channel as soon as we recognized that there were boobies on the screen--they barely had enough time to say "Ewww." Then, since it was late, my cousin and I sent the kids upstairs to bed, then settled back down in front of the TV. I don't remember how we came to the agreement that we were going to turn back to Cinemax, but we turned the volume nearly all the way down [the better to potentially hear people coming down the stairs] and got under the blankets we were laying on on the floor and pushed the last button on the remote. It should be noted that this cousin and I talked about sex a lot--whenever one of us would hear something from a friend or catch a glimpse of something we shouldn't have seen in a movie, we would dutifully report it to the other the next time we hung out. Our Barbies had sexytime. So this didn't seem weird at all. We were laying on our stomachs, eyes glued to screen, and sometime during the movie I realized that I was more turned on than I had ever been in my entire [short] life, and my hand began to drift downward. I tried to not be that into it, lest she notice, but eventually I could tell she was paying attention and so I stopped and slowly brought my hand back up. When it was back outside the covers, she grabbed my wrist, pulled my hand towards her face, and inhaled, then said, "You nasty." I gave her an I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about look, but remember feeling relieved that if she recognized the actions and the scent, that meant she did it too.
We began to seek out porn late at night whenever she was sleeping over at my house, which was pretty often back then. Eventually my family cancelled its subscription to Cinemax, though, and my days of watching porn with another person were dead until I was with J the summer after my senior year of high school. He noticed that watching people give blowjobs turns me on. (It still does, as long as there's no spitting.) Oh that's right, Ev'Yan also wanted to know what kind of porn I like.
I'm pretty open: I have gotten off to M-F, M-M, F-F, M-M-F, M-F-F, MtoF-M, all kinds of crazy orgies...I think that's about it. I watch two-person straight porn the most frequently by far, though. I can't fuck with old people, very overweight people, BDSM, or gang-banging though. Or anything illegal. 

"My porn preference says nothing about who I am as a person; yours most likely doesn’t either.People like what they like because they like it, & to have our identities wrapped around the kind of erotic images we gaze upon is dangerous. I believe that the porn we view has little to do with the inner workings of our personalities & more to do with raw, instinctual carnality.

We fuck, therefore we enjoy images of fucking." --Ev'Yan

In light of that, I feel comfortable revealing to you all that my go-to kind of porn is pretty degrading, the kind that feminists and really just women everywhere are/should probably be against. I really really love public-drunk-party-girl sex. Like, in the middle of the kind of wild crazy house party one associates with "college" but I will never actually see the likes of, when people just start getting it on on the couch in the living room with a crowd watching/cheering/recording. The person-who-cares-deeply-about-the-state-of-humanity and was-she-really-in-a-state-to-consent in me is shut up entirely by the wannabe-exhibitionist who is entirely enthralled. I'm also a big fan of threesomes, particularly if they feature an MMF train. Nuru massage porn is the shit too--I actually wanna try that shit. I tend to watch more White porn than Black porn, just because it's harder to find Black porn that isn't audibly degrading to the woman involved, imho. Visually, I'm a big fan of amateur porn and will turn it off if there is music in the background distracting me from the sounds of sex, but when it comes to erotica I like there to be a story and can get pretty caught up in like, series. There is also one genre of erotica that I love to read but would never watch porn of because it would be disturbing, harmful to the people involved, and illegal. I'm not telling any more than that.

Made my day:

From a post on Thought Catalog about the things women in their 20s need to cease and desist immediately:

"6. Stop getting stupid tattoos in cursive writing on your rib cages, wrists, and necks that say things like “live” or “breathe” or “love” or “pestilence” in another language
Your body is not the inside cover of your 8th grade notebook—treat it accordingly."

on. the. floor.

Stephen Colbert is winning so hard

in the game of my affections right now. 

I wanted to blog about these ads last week, but didn't know how to type STEREOTYPICAL, RACIST, and CULTURALLY INSENSITIVE in large enough letters. Or how to convey that I'm fucking sick and tired of women being told that their bodies aren't good enough at every damn turn. SUMMER'S EVE, YOU ARE CREATING A PROBLEM HERE TO INCREASE YOUR REVENUE (and exacerbating lots of other problems in the process). So much shaking my goddamn head here. 

But that's just me whining. Colbert did something so much better than whine. He launched a counter-attack [though I must say that the fact that simply making a very similar ad tailored to men reveals the ridiculous nature of the situation just goes to show how accustomed we've become to women's bodies being problematized in the media...]: 

The Colbert Report
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,Video Archive

 

2nd 30 Day Letter Challenge: Day Two--Letter to an Inanimate Object You Hate

Dear Single-Sex Single-Stall Bathrooms,

Hate may be a strong word for how I feel about you, but it is not a warm happy feeling by any means. I am more...confused and perplexed by your very existence. And more frankly, I simply do not approve of you. To borrow a phrase my boyfriend uses for a Midwestern game called cornhole, I am against everything [you] stand for. 
Now I recognize that in multi-stall public restrooms, there are some people who don't like the idea of having a person of a different gender taking a piss in the stall next to them. Additionally, urinals really freak some girls out. (Not girls who'd wear this dress, evidently, but that's a whole 'nother story I can't even get into right now...) Some women claim safety concerns, which should never be trivialized (although I think there are better anti-rape measures than making people pee in different places, like saying, hey, men shouldn't rape, but again, I digress). I will never forget this scene from Boy Meets World (one of the greatest shows to ever be on television and I will FIGHT YOU if you disagree) in which Cory cannot handle the gender neutral showers in his dorm (jump to around 3 minutes in):

 

Though I do not sympathize with anyone who feels this way, I empathize with them and respect their opinions, so I have no major problem with sex-segregated restrooms in general. Though I will freely admit that I will go into a men's restroom to wash my hands or grab a paper towel if it's closer than the women's restroom, and if there is a line out the door to the women's room and free stalls in the men's, you know where I'll be. And in my personal experience, though I tend to dislike making generalizations, guys seem to be pretty chill when they find a girl in their bathroom. 

I do have a major problem, however, with you, sex-segregated single stall bathrooms. Don't pretend you don't know who I'm talking to: all you rooms with a toilet, a sink, a mirror, and a handicap rail. WHY DOES THERE NEED TO BE ONE FOR MEN AND ONE FOR WOMEN? YOU ARE IDENTICAL 6 FT. BY 6 FT. ROOMS. For argument's sake I have spent time inspecting you, and there are no differences. The only thing you accomplish is to not so subtly remind us that the world thinks there's some grand difference between men and women. I suppose you even more subtly tell us that there's not, because these rooms are exactly the same, but that might be too subtle for the masses to handle, so I'm raising my fists and shouting SEPARATE IS INHERENTLY INEQUAL! Pardon my French, but we all shit on the same toilet in our homes, why do we need separate ones out in the world? Don't even try to defend yourself by saying women need trash cans for their "feminine products" (I disapprove of that term, btw), because I'm sure men's bathrooms would be a lot cleaner if there were more trashcans in them. And in fancy single stall bathrooms both genders get fancy soaps and hand lotions (speaking from experience again), so don't try to talk your way out of it by being gender-normative. 

There is no reason for your existence, please eradicate yourself from my social world.

Good riddance,

Maya

While I'm pushing for this...

I DEMAND this.

Period.

Dear Pad Commercial Designers,

Maybe I’m doing it wrong, but your vials of

blue liquid convince me of absolutely nothing.

Touchably dry, my bloodstained fingertips scoff.

Your free floating cartoon pad drifts like a magic carpet

across my screen, and as it loop-de-loops, it promises

to stretch to fit my body’s natural curves.

Problem with that statement number one:

You sound like a Pamper’s Cruisers commercial.

Two: someone once told me a “regular” sized pad is designed

around the body of a size 6 woman, and I don’t like

what you’re implying about my “irregularity”.

And seriously, anyone who was just dying for a thong pad

is in dire need of a reality check.

But don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily,

Tampon Commercial Designers. No, I’ve got a complaint or two for you.

Who are these actresses you cast? What menstruating woman in her right mind

really wants to lounge flirtatiously on a pool chaise in a bikini

between overly muscular gentlemen, or chase her dog barefoot

through the wet sand, or go clubbing in the tightest of black dresses,

or nail that difficult new yoga pose while sporting white spandex?

Sorry to be the one to break it to ya, but no one trusts you that well.

And just because you make it tinier (read: easier to leak) and dress it up

in a polka-dotted case does not make me want to show it off to my class,

and I won’t be the first person in line to twirl in slow motion through the field

of flowers or splash gaily in the waterfall either. Now is not a good time to discuss purity.

Of course, not everyone paints periods as a pocket full of sunshine, but Midol and Pamprin

Commercial Designers, you’re next on my list. If I see one more woman get half out of bed

then fall back in, or poke her water weight in the mirror/struggle to button her work pants,

or moan in agony while grabbing her waist/back/head, I’m going to scream.

Yes, it hurts. We all know that. We’ve all known that from tender ages of innocence.

We also know that the cute tight pants are out of commission for a few days, and no matter

how tight the budget is, that morning coffee is a must this week. We know we’ll be crying at

the sappy movies and not having the energy to move, but the real world expects us

up at our normal times and moving at our normal rates and not taking twice as many bathroom

breaks because we either feel like we’re back in diapers or our tampon is so small we can’t feel it

and that’s worrying but either way popping two pills doesn’t stop the feeling that we’re dying

so either show the woman with the clenched jaw and the halfhearted smile who suffers invisibly 

or shut the fuck up.

That last bit is meant for all of you.

Signed,

Your Consumers

BIG Questions

I'm wrestling with two pretty big and somewhat linked issues right now, as I move towards a better and deeper self-understanding. I suppose it's somewhat impossible to study college's effect on student ide entity without pondering my own identity and the way Princeton is molding it. Anddddd I guess one of the purposes of even starting this blog was to get back in touch (or perhaps even in touch for the first time) with who I really am. 

Well I can't know who I am until I can definitively answer these questions:

1) Is my blackness or my womanness more important to me? Which comes first, and is that firstness justified?

2) Fact: I might actually be more non-black than I am of African descent. What does that mean for my identity as a black person? And for my ideas about black people in general?

Relatedly, I identify as a Black American. I don't like the term African-American as relating to ME, because I feel it should be reserved for first/second/third generation immigrants, like most other -American groups use the hyphenation, and that does not apply to me or my people. Not to denounce my African roots in any way, but I'm not even sure the majority of my blood comes from the motherland (I'm also German, French Canadian, Native American, Portuguese, and probably a few other random things). .I feel like the term African-American doesn't give respect to the fact that my ancestors are not all just from Africa. They come from... all over the world. My skin is not that of an African's. Neither is my hair. I know from conversations with my African friends, neither are the vast majority of my ideas and perceptions of the world. Those things and more all come from the eclectic blend of cultures and heritages within me, and within most of us who have descended from slavery--we all know that wasn't an institution built upon preserving the separation of the races--and I believe "black American" is the most fitting term (of those we have to choose from) to represent that blend. I also like "multi-generational African-Americans", a term Imani Perry tossed out in precept last week...

Most of the time...

I love being a woman. I love that I can be soft while being strong, that caring always wins out over somewhat-overbearing. I love that I can be identified by my laugh, that I'm not afraid to draw attention to my curves or draw paw prints on my breasts. I love that it's okay for me to always want to give/receive hugs, that I can pepper my speech with the words "love", "honey", "dear", and "darling", that I can give myself freely and wholly to as many people as possible without any repercussions. I love the slop of my collarbone and the curl of my hair, and I love how it feels to be the only one who knows I'm wearing sexy underwear. Most of the time, I love being a woman. 

But on days like today, when I wake up needing to take 2 maximum strength Pamprin and 3 Advil, which are currently doing nothing to combat cramps from hell and the fact that every muscle in my body aches as I try to move, and all of the soda at the luncheon is caffeine-free, and I'm hungry but I don't have the energy to even eat a bowl of soup, and I can't trust how I feel because it might just be the hormones feeling, and all I want to do is sleep when all I need to do is work, I must admit, I get angry. I get angry that men don't have to deal with this shit. I get angry that I have to go spend a bunch of money at CVS on pads and tampons and pantyliners and spray. I get angry that my vibrator is going to lay around unused and unusable for the rest of the week. I get angry that the world expects me to keep on keepin on and be so fucking strong when my insides are literally crawling out of me. I get angry that the world doesn't recognize exactly how many sacrifices women make to keep up appearances and keep everything running smoothly. 

I still love being a woman. It's society that makes me angry.

This one goes out to all my ladies

I have love on my arms in six languages today. All that love, it's for you, all the ladies of all the world. Today, and every day, I want you to know that you are loved. You are appreciated. People care about you. You matter to someone. Your thoughts and opinions matter, as do your safety and well-being. I want to remind you, ladies, that your bodies are your temples, so treat them with love and care, and remember that no one can tell how wonderful you are on the inside unless you reflect that on the outside. To all the women who feel like there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done, take a twelfth of one of those hours (ie. five minutes) for yourself, take off the invisible 'S' you carry around on your chest all day, and breathe; you'll be shocked at how much easier the rest of the day comes. To all the women who don't know where the rent money is going to come from, or how you're going to put food on the table for your kids, I admire your strength and resilience, and I know that if my mom could do it, you can do it too; you are in my thoughts and I hope the best for you. To all the women beating themselves up striving for perfection: stop and take a look around; you're already there. And to all the women who gave up their pursuits of happiness a long time ago, I want you to go stand outside and feel the sun shine on your skin, the rush of the wind through your hair, the laughter of the kids playing next door, and remember that while there may be darkness and pain and struggle and strife in this world, there is also joy and light and blessed moments of peace, and above all else there is love, and this is worth living for. To these women and more, I have love on my arms and it's all for you.

____________________________________________________________

"To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

To Write Love On Her Arms Day is a day where anyone can write the words love on their arms, to support those who are fighting against depression and those who are trying to recover. On this day, just write love on your arms, and show it off, other people will ask why you have love written on your arms, and you tell them you are supporting to write love on her arms day, and how its benefiting a non profit organization helping stop depression, and make love the movement ♥"