"My response to the “I am not a feminist” internet phenomenon….
First of all, it’s clear you don’t know what feminism is. But I’m not going to explain it to you. You can google it. To quote an old friend, “I’m not the feminist babysitter.”
But here is what I think you should know.
You’re insulting every woman who was forcibly restrained in a jail cell with a feeding tube down her throat for your right to vote, less than 100 years ago.
You’re degrading every woman who has accessed a rape crisis center, which wouldn’t exist without the feminist movement.
You’re undermining every woman who fought to make marital rape a crime (it was legal until 1993).
You’re spitting on the legacy of every woman who fought for women to be allowed to own property (1848). For the abolition of slavery and the rise of the labor union. For the right to divorce. For women to be allowed to have access to birth control (Comstock laws). For middle and upper class women to be allowed to work outside the home (poor women have always worked outside the home). To make domestic violence a crime in the US (It is very much legal in many parts of the world). To make workplace sexual harassment a crime.
In short, you know not what you speak of. You reap the rewards of these women’s sacrifices every day of your life. When you grin with your cutsey sign about how you’re not a feminist, you ignorantly spit on the sacred struggle of the past 200 years. You bite the hand that has fed you freedom, safety, and a voice.
In short, kiss my ass, you ignorant little jerks.”
And once again, I find myself living for those around me and for their expectations of my life.
I need to tattoo to my forehead, “This is YOUR life. Do what YOU want. Fuck the world.” Maybe then it’ll stick.
shadowjourneys and I are now officially models.
We shot with a winery yesterday and soon our faces will be plastered all over their website.
Life takes you strange places, folks…
Dear Usually Pleasant Lady,
I drive by your house at least four times a day, normally six or eight. Every time I see you outside, I wave at you and smile, and you return the courtesy. Yesterday, however, you greeted me in a different manner. As I drove 29 miles/hour down Biava, only four over the speed limit, you screamed, “SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!” as you flailed your arms.
After living up here for a year, I understand the need to drive slowly and cautiously on Biava. I know that children frequently play outside. I know that pets roam. I know that deer are ready to jump out in front of cars at the last second. I know all of these things, just as well as you know them.
What you DIDN’T know, however, was that my fiance has been in the Intensive Care Unit since Saturday due to severe head trauma. I have slept by his side most nights, hoping and praying that he will make it through this. You see, he fractured his skull and was in a coma. His neurosurgeon told me that he will most likely be a vegetable, if he even wakes up at all. When you saw me driving yesterday, I had just woken up from a brief nap by a phone call. It was the hospital. He was waking up.
Even though my heart was racing, I was not. Although I had every inclination of driving 150 mph down that road, I restrained myself. So, to see you screaming at me to slow down was incredibly insensitive and actually hurtful. I write to you to beg you to step down from your high horse, stop thinking that you know what’s best for Biava drivers, and to understand that in these next few days there will be various drivers going 29 or over while we wait for our loved one to heal and come home. Please do not add to our stress by yelling at us again.
Owner of the charcoal Fit and resident of TF Ranch
So, I submitted my research to the National Communication Association earlier this year, and I wasn’t expecting much since it’s already a year old and I didn’t go to a research renowned school, but I thought what the hell, I’ll try. After months of waiting, I finally heard back from them.
My research was accepted for presentation.
You guysssss, I’m going to Chicago to talk to a bunch of comm research nerds about my senior project. This is a dream come trueeee, especially since I actually want to do research for a living!
I’m kind of freaking out.