Rotten Little Girls

Let me count the ways:

“No!”
“I’m not okay with that.”
“I don’t want our relationship to be just about sex.”
“I’m celibate.”
“This isn’t what I had in mind.”
“I’m waiting for the one.”
“Not right now.”
“Nein!”

Have you ever found yourself in a “romantic” situation where you feel that saying “no” just doesn’t cut it or no matter how many times or ways you say no they just don’t get it? Sometimes you may feel that you might as well be speaking another language. At some point, you may have decided to just give in out of exhaustion rather than continue to fight. Other times you may feel confident and strong enough to say no and stick to your guns. Most women that end up being classified as victims of sexual assault probably found themselves in the former situation rather than the latter. More than a few of us have had our share of uncomfortable moments that seem to careen of your control. Sometimes, we narrowly escape with our pride intact; other times we are stuck with the emotional scars of a moment gone terribly wrong.

“When a man says no in this culture, it’s the end of the discussion. When a woman says no, it’s the beginning of a negotiation.” – Gavin De Becker (The Gift of Fear) – as seen on Oprah’s episode Trusting Your Intuition.”

Just to give an anecdote of the type of occurrence I’m referring to, consider the following mad lib/multiple choice scenario:

You’ve been talking to (insert name here) for a little while now. You’ve made plans to hang out and watch (insert recent DVD/ Blue Ray release you’ve been looking forward to seeing here) and you’ve finally agreed on this Friday at 9PM.

You’re excited because…
a. You haven’t had an intimate chance to get to know (him/her/them)
b. You finally got up the courage to ask them to hang out.
c. You’ve crushed on (him/her/them) a while now and you’re finally getting your moment!
d. Insert other reasons here.

While you find (name) attractive…
a. you’re not ready to take it to the next level
b. you’re holding out for the one
c. you just see them as a friend
d. or other feelings you may have about them.

You settle in for the movie on the couch/bed/futon/floor and start the movie. You nibble and munch on the perfect combination of popcorn and beer/hot cocoa and cookies/crackers and cheese with wine. An hour in, it’s a little chilly, so you find yourself snuggling closer for warmth. You notice (name) getting a little more touchy feely and affectionate.

At first you’re okay with it, but suddenly for some reason you begin to feel uncomfortable. You…
a. push their hand away/shrug them off
b. politely ask them to stop
c. tell them you’re not interested in them like “that”
d. insert other completely valid statement here.

Now let’s pause here.

This is the moment I’m talking to you about. The moment where it feels like anything other than no is not a choice or an option. Perhaps they’re not hearing you, or you just can’t find the words to say what you really feel. This is usually the moment where most women have trouble determining whether or not they deserve to be in the shitty situation they’re in, or if the guy is just a jerk.

(Haven’t been a similar situation or not sure how you feel about the scenario I brought up? Check out this online forum discussion about the same topic. Would you respond to george1965 the same way lovethelake17 does?)

Recently, I’ve been thinking about what role women play or don’t play in romantic situations that are less than ideal and sometimes downright traumatic. Is it our fault that we end up in challenging circumstances? Is there a point where saying no just isn’t enough? Why do I feel like the jerk or crappy about myself if it’s not my fault? How do I get out of this situation and if so, what are some next steps can we take to empower ourselves?

Consider the following ladies:

“The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network defines sexual assault as “unwanted sexual contact that stops short of rape or attempted rape. This includes sexual touching and fondling.”

The National Center for Victims of Crime states that:

“Sexual assault takes many forms including attacks such as rape or attempted rape, as well as any unwanted sexual contact or threats. Usually a sexual assault occurs when someone touches any part of another person’s body in a sexual way, even through clothes, without that person’s consent.”

Also, according to the good book of Wikipedia, “rape is a type of sexual assault usually involving sexual intercourse, which is initiated by one or more persons against another person without that person’s consent.”

And more “credible” sources like the Department of Justice defines rape as, “penetration, no matter how slight, of the vagina or anus with any body part or object, or oral penetration by a sex organ of another person, without the consent of the victim.”

Basically, all this is to say that it’s not your fault for feeling uncomfortable.

Did you know:

“One in six American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape.”
(2004 National Crime Victimization Survey)

“Every two minutes, somewhere in America, someone is sexually assaulted.”
(RAINN calculation based on 2000 National Crime Victimization Survey. Bureau of Justice Statistics, U.S. Department of Justice)

So what can we, as a group of conscious people and individuals, do about it?

First, know the facts – if you don’t know what injustices you’re being subjected to how are you going to know you’re being treated unfairly? Use this opportunity to explore the links below and do a little more research on your own. Similar to defensive driving, be a “defensive lady.”

Second – unfortunately, sometimes it’s someone you trust who puts you in this situation. As incomprehensible as it may seem, date rape does happen.

Third, be true to yourself. Don’t do something that you wouldn’t normally do or that makes you feel uncomfortable.

Fourth, speak up or ask for help. Fuck the shame and the pride and all the other reasons you could come up with to retreat. Find a bathroom or private place to call to a trusted friend or a hotline support person, or call the cops and report the asshole. Whatever you do, never be silenced!

Remember you have a right to say no.

Lastly, have an arsenal of ways to say no. Hopefully something sticks.

My heart goes out to those of you that are forced into silence and even immobility. To come out of such a traumatic circumstance and continue to power through each day is a tremendous accomplishment. To those of you who are able to advocate for your needs and desires your strength through the overwhelming circumstances is admirable. I’m sure many of you may have additional advice. Share it with us in the comment section below!

Sources & Resources:

For more information on how to prevent sexual assaults:
Sexual Assault Prevention

Other ways to say no:
111 Ways to Say No to Sex
Five Surefire Ways To Say No

This post was written by guest blogger Akiko. You can find more of her writing at her blog Peep This Peeps, a blog dedicated to cheap things to see and do in Boston and local graffiti.

We have a new column here at Rotten Little Girls: Ask Two Guys. Seriously, ask them anything. Just email us with “Ask Two Guys” in the subject line and ask anything that you’ve wanted to know about, but were afraid to ask. Who should pay on a first date? Do you prefer pet snakes or iguanas? Seriously, it’s up to you.

Dear Two Guys:

I’ve had body image issues for a long time now and I have always wondered — do guys get insecure too? I mean, I’m sure you do in some way — you’re human, just like us, but women are bombarded with advertisements daily telling us to pluck our eyebrows and tan our bodies and lose some pounds. Do you ever feel pressure to change something, and how do you deal with it?

- Curious Girl

It depends. If whatever has you down is fixable, go out and make it yours. I got sick of having a belly, so I started eating better and bought a bike. Sometimes self-help can be super rewarding.

Other times, the pressures shit like advertising tries to put on you just aren’t that important. The people in your life who matter don’t care about how sculpted your eyebrows are, or if your skin is a perfect shade of burnt. Being a general badass is way hotter than your makeup can ever make you.

And to say that a guy can’t get insecure about himself in the same way a woman can is pretty insulting, especially when the ads you’re talking about are immediately followed up by stuff for Axe and hair restoration. I had terrible self esteem for most of high school and got pretty torn up/taken advantage of by girls because of it. I still have episodes of lowering my standards for people who aren’t worth it because I don’t think I can do any better. It’s a long process, and someone, somewhere called it “growing up.”

- Will

Dear Two Guys:

y r u writing on a feminist blog

confused bout this column

Cause Kelly’s fuckin’ awesome. And when did talking about stuff like gender roles become a “girls-only” club?

- Will

Dear Two Guys:

I am on the baseball team @ my college and i live with a bunch of my teammates. Some of my housemates say really crappy things about women in front of me (like jokes) and I usually dont have a problem with it but my girlfriend (who reads this site) does. She told me I need to talk to them cuz it makes her uncomfortable but i dont want my friends and teammates to think im lame for bringing this up. what should i do?

- Some Bro

Depends, bro. Are your bro friends the 22 year olds who still try to bang freshman girls by getting them way too drunk? Or are they nice guys who just happen to make too many jokes about women and kitchens? If your answer is the former, they just sorta suck as people and should be kept at arms length anyway, because often times, you are who you hang with, and I’d much rather not be lumped in with “that guy who asks you to go make out in his jeep. Eight times.”

If you like your teammates, just be straight with them and tell them to lay off the shitty jokes in front of the lady. Don’t get mad, and definitely don’t get passive-aggressive, that shit will only get you ragged on harder. If they’re worth living with, they’ll be courteous enough to lay off.

- Will

Being born and growing up in the U.S in a traditional Asian family is tough; women have to be dressed modestly and be “perfect” in every way. Cooking and cleaning, taking care of siblings and kids, and look good. That’s tough enough but I’m also growing up in a society where everything is judged and labeled. No one is able to express themself without being labeled, no one is able to say what they want to say without being criticized. My family makes it harder, and growing up as a rebel, I had pretty much gotten use to the fact of being judged, criticized, and treated like dirt in my family because I’m not a ‘modest’ girl. I can’t get dressed in peace, having people at my back scolding me for wearing something as simple as jeans and a hoodie. While my brother, who is wearing ripped jeans is just walking down the stairs like an innocent child.

I rarely go out and hang out with my friends, only going out once every 7 or 8 months, anything more than that, I earn a 2 hour long lecture, and somehow the topic of how not modest I am comes up in that lecture. While my brother, who is 2 years younger then me, is going and hanging out with someone everyday, and doesn’t get lectured for going with someone else’s parents to a town an hour away from where we live for a week. Every single friend that I have, they have a word to say about every single one of them. But my brother’s friend come and go as they want.

One day while searching blogs on google, I came across this religious blog and it pissed me off when I saw this guy say, women are the weaker of the two, and the man of the family should be the one to control the woman, and have the power. It pissed me off so much I went on a rage temper for 2 hours, taking my anger out on the walls…leaving holes in it–living in an urban area teaches you how to fight well.

I firmly believe that a woman should have as much equal rights as a man, they go through pain like giving birth and taking care of kids. If boys were to one day feel the pain of giving birth and or the annoyance of periods, then they might understand us better. It annoys me how guys go around showing their well tones muscles off and showing how strong they are. Or, when guys go out with girls and when they get her pregnant, they won’t accept the responsiblity and ditch her. And rapists and molesters go around touching and raping girls and leaving her there to die and suffer painfully. And a woman gets up in the morning getting ready and primping around in front of the mirror for two hours to look nice, and a guy barely does much but shower and blow dry here and there and still look nice, and a woman STILL get criticism for things.

Yes, I am young, only 13, and some people may say this is only a young kid’s rant but, I am proud to say what I stand up for and what I believe in. I am not ashamed of being called a bitch, I am not ashamed of having to say fuck you, and I am not ashamed of saying what I am saying. A person is always a person, even if they’re a boy or a girl, they should always be treated equally the only difference between these two is one have a dick.

- Nikki

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The “Why I Became a Feminist” series is open to anyone who identifies as feminist and wants to share their story. Please email me at rottenlittlegirls @ gmail.com and I will consider publishing your piece in this series. I’d love to have a broad range of voices and experiences.

Check out the rest of the series!

Why I Became A Feminist – Looptheloop (http://www.loop-the-loop.net)

Born into a Muslim family, I was always taught that females had certain roles that they had to fullfil. My father is probably one of the biggest chauvinists I have met, but nonetheless he is a kind and caring man to his two kids – my brother and I. My mother has always been a strong woman, but she has been oppressed by Pakistani Islamic culture her whole life. She had an abusive father who treated his wife (my grandmother) and my mother awfully. He forced my mother to marry at age 15, a year before marriage was legal even then in Pakistan. The man she was forced to marry was my father, and he was double her age. My grandmother was against this marriage, but typically did not have a voice as a woman in the family. My brother was the first born, and between looking after him she continued her education and worked part time.

Perhaps luckily for me, by the time I was born, my grandfather had already passed away. When my parents found out that they were going to have a baby girl, this was celebrated. My mother had her own clinic (she was a midwife), and she set up a nursery for me at the clinic as well as at home. I was spoiled rotten.

By the time I was 4, my family moved to London. As I began to grow up, my voice was often silenced. I was not to disrespect my elders, especially the men. When my father had a friend over, I was to help my mother give them tea and snacks. I was too young, at this point, to realize that the same was not required of my brother (who is 9 years older than I am).

During my last year of primary school, when sex ed came up in class, my mother refused to sign my permission slip on the grounds of religion. A few weeks after this happened, I began menstruating. This happened whilst my mother was at work, and I remember it like yesterday. I was at home alone, and I was terrified. I actually thought I was going to die. I called my mother and she told me to calm down, and explained what to do. I still resent her for not letting me go to the sex ed class in my final year of primary school. To add to my confusion, I began to question my sexual identity. I realized that men and women get together, but I had no idea that people could be gay. This was never discussed in my family, and I dared not to ask. However, despite being interested in boys, I also felt something for girls. However, being ashamed and embarrassed by these feelings, I suppressed them.

As I entered my teens and started secondary school, my father began to put immense pressure on me to wear a head scarf (hijab). I began to rebel however, and wore the scarf when my father dropped me off at school, but took it off as soon as I entered the school grounds where he could not see me. This was awkward and embarrassing, and I often had to explain myself to my friends, who simply did not understand. This was the first moment that I began to feel angry that girls as young as me were forced to wear a hijab. It did not make sense to me, but I carried on until I got sick of it a couple of years later. I began to stand up to my father and even had my mother on my side, on the issue of the hijab.

My dad would, at times, nag me to pray and wear the hijab whilst my older brother was out late at night with his friends, partying. During my secondary school years, I did not have much of a social life. I went out perhaps once every six to eight months with my friends to the cinema, but anything more frequent than that angered my parents. A good Muslim girl was not to be seen out with her friends, especially not a mixed group! I really began to question the existence of god, and my faith in Islam, and often argued on the topic of a ‘good god’ with a Muslim female friend of mine. Despite this, however, I tried my best to fit in and to believe. My main concern with Islam was the double standards when it came to men and women, the perfect example being the double standards between my brother and I. The age difference was not the issue, as my brother was always out with friends (male and female) during secondary school.

It was not until the last year of secondary school, and my two years at A-level that I realized that I was a feminist. I took a strong liking to English Literature, and my teachers placed a big focus on feminist literature including The Color Purple, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit and The Handmaid’s Tale. I loved this class, and I thoroughly enjoyed discussing and writing essays about feminism in literature. It seemed to come naturally to me. Even my Art & Design classes contained the issue of the role of women in society, with a focus on Muslim women.

After A-levels, I spent one year at art school and much of my work was developed from the issues I looked at during my A-level Art course. I made a photography piece which consisted of me wearing a mini skirt, showing my legs, but wearing a niqab (the full face veil) and going out into a busy London park. I got a friend to take photos of me, as well as the reaction of the people in the park. This piece was presented at the end of year exhibition, and I convinced myself to show my mother. However, sadly, I could not take my father to see it due to his reaction – which would be anger seeing me wearing a mini skirt and showing my legs.

I have now completely denounced my faith, but sadly I still cannot tell my father, only my mother is aware. My father still does not want me to go out with my friends (I am 23 this year), and still dictates what I should and should not wear. Moreover, I have witnessed him telling my mother off for wearing jeans and not the traditional Pakistani Shalwar Kameez dress. I feel sad whenever I see females from the Islamic community I used to belong to, being given this false illusion that they are given equality in Islam. This is controversial to say, but one of the reasons I lost respect for Islam is Verse 4:34 in the Qur’an, the holy book of the Muslims. It states the following:

Men are in charge of women, because Allah hath made the one of them to excel the other, and because they spend of their property (for the support of women).

Then if they obey you, seek not a way against them. Lo! Allah is ever High, Exalted, Great.

My closest male friends still tell anti-women jokes that are focused on women being the weaker sex, or rape, or women being useless, and it makes me uncomfortable. If I get angry, they tell me to “stop being such a feminist”. I’m afraid that just isn’t going to happen. I had a debate with another male friend about Akon’s disrespectful song lyrics, and I made the statement that yes, I am a feminist, to which he replied “That’s the problem”.

My boyfriend, whom I love to bits and who knows how strongly I feel about gender equality, feels that there is not much of a need for feminism in Western society, but I always catch him out when I say that if there is no one fighting for feminists in the Western world, who will help teenage girls who are forced by their fathers to dress and act in a certain way? Who will tell these girls that voicing your opinion is completely valid? If not for the females in the West, what about getting the message out in our society about females treated badly in other societies? I am glad that I have a supportive boyfriend in this matter, despite some of our differing opinions, but I will always be passionate about women’s rights and gender equality. I will never be ashamed to use the F word when describing myself!

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The “Why I Became a Feminist” series is open to anyone who identifies as feminist and wants to share their story. Please email me at rottenlittlegirls @ gmail.com and I will consider publishing your piece in this series. I’d love to have a broad range of voices and experiences.

Check out the rest of the series!

Why Am I A Feminist?

I live in America. America is based around capitalism. Capitalism is all about money. Women, men, children, all trying to look their “best,” buying anything and everything for the sake of being in fashion, or “fitting in.” But what are we “fitting in” to?

As humans we are bound to name everything, every shape, every color, texture, smell, right down to the smallest electron. From the moment we are born we’re classified; Male/Female, Green/Brown/White/Yellow, Atheist/Follower, Blind/Handicapped. Everything about you is judged. Nothing gets left behind, not even the thoughts in your head can be exposed without someone criticizing you. We are put into boxes, little boxes and discriminated against our whole life, based upon an idea that is associated with us. But not only are we judged by others, we judge ourselves. Constantly.

We try and fit ourselves into these standards of beauty that have been with us for so long, people don’t even question them anymore. When asked in my Sociology class what the “Ideal Woman” was, my fellow students came up with, “Sensitive, caring, quiet, passive, innocent yet experienced, and last but not least, 36-24-36.”Um, yeah, I’m pretty sure Barbie isn’t even that great. But as ridiculous as this may seem, this is everywhere. These picture perfect women and men are being mimicked by society and are the basis of our culture. We need standards, without them, our economy would come to a halt, which may or may not be a great thing…

I am so sick of our society and how everybody has self conscious ideas about themselves, and there is always a chance of being tormented, or discriminated against, and not being granted the chance to speak their mind freely. Humans just need to realize that we are all the same, genetically that is, and all anybody really wants to do is live peacefully, and if that, that simple idea gets through everybody’s little head, than maybe, just maybe, can we talk about ideas that are really important. Like how to live peacefully with nature, or converse through the language of math.

Ergo, I am a feminist.

I’m twenty, I don’t wear makeup, I hate shaving, high heels can kiss my ass, my hair is shorter than my brother’s and is always dirty/messy, I am beautiful, I am strong, I am a Mathematician, Vegetarian/Vegan, Humanist, Philosopher, and a Woman.

That is all.

Peace and Love,
Alix

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The “Why I Became a Feminist” series is open to anyone who identifies as feminist and wants to share their story. Please email me at rottenlittlegirls @ gmail.com and I will consider publishing your piece in this series. I’d love to have a broad range of voices and experiences.

Check out the rest of the series!

I was raised in a family of contradictions. My father is a doctor, well respected and a partner in his practice, and one of the most liberal people you will ever meet. My mother dropped out of medical school to marry my dad and yet I would never say that she is in any way inferior to him (she recently got her master’s degree at NYU and is taking further courses through Harvard’s online program). My older siblings went to liberal arts schools and graduated as International Relations majors. My younger brother and I are both into theater. At the same time, my family was more than supportive when I announced that I wanted to be an engineer.

It wasn’t until this year, my first year at an institute of technology, that the need for feminist ideals seemed to become relevant to my life. It wasn’t until this year that I was told “Just don’t talk in so-and-so’s class.” “Don’t draw attention to yourself.” “Trust me, such-and-such doesn’t think that women should be engineers.” It wasn’t until this year when I got shocked looks for, heaven forbid, wearing a skirt or was forced to realize the delicate balance between being a girl and not being thought of as one.

Now, I consider myself to be an intelligent person. So, walking into a class room and having the boy sitting next to me patronizingly explain to me something I understood better than he did bothered me, but I decided to ignore it, at least until a TA asked why I didn’t “just get a boy to write that code.” Or when the internship office nearly mandated that we wear skirt suits to interviews. Heaven forbid we seem less than feminine when applying for engineering jobs.

So, until this year, feminism was irrelevant to my life. I was a nerdy girl who didn’t have to worry about the social pressures. I became a feminist when I realized that the battle is not over, the glass ceiling is still intact, women in engineering are not seen as equals, and that getting hired to fill a quota is really not as good a feeling as getting hired on my merits.

-Katie
(mysanityisrelative @ gmail.com)

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The “Why I Became a Feminist” series is open to anyone who identifies as feminist and wants to share their story. Please email me at rottenlittlegirls @ gmail.com and I will consider publishing your piece in this series. I’d love to have a broad range of voices and experiences.

Check out the rest of the series!

Why am I a feminist?

To put it simply, I was raised that way. I was never taught that women are inferior, or that there was anything a man can do that a woman can’t (well, apart from getting prostate cancer). I was taught to learn about the world by studying it. So I studied it. And what did I see?

I saw my parents, who have, as far as I can tell, a perfect, egalitarian marriage. For years, they both worked hard so my brother and I never really wanted for anything. Furthermore, they both had the same kind of job, working at Microsoft. OK, so their actual jobs weren’t the same, but I didn’t know that in elementary school.

I saw my classmates in school. The girls, it seemed, were no worse than the boys. I went to such a small elementary school that we had co-ed PE – again, no noticeable difference. I had both male and female teachers. All the evidence pointed to girls being equal to boys.

And then I read a book. It was a photo history of the women’s rights movement in America. From that book, I learned about the history of discrimination. There were other, similar books that I read. One was a history of World War II, including the Holocaust. Another was about the civil rights movement. The lesson I learned is this: discrimination is evil.

Incidentally, I’m male. I don’t consider this to be important.

- Meshakhad

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The “Why I Became a Feminist” series is open to anyone who identifies as feminist and wants to share their story. Please email me at rottenlittlegirls @ gmail.com and I will consider publishing your piece in this series. I’d love to have a broad range of voices and experiences.

Check out the rest of the series!

I am twenty years old. I am a good student. I don’t smoke, do drugs, drink or do anything that parents wouldn’t approve of for that matter. I excel in any sport I play. I am a good driver. I speak 3 languages fluently. I am polite and pleasant, and I’m not ugly.

You get the picture.

My parents thought it was a horrible idea for me to go to med school because being a doctor is not a woman’s job. Now that I’m a political science major and might end up being an ambassador or working in the ministry of foreign affairs where I will get the chance to travel a lot; they still don’t think it’s suitable for a woman. “Who will marry you with a job like that?”

(note: my parents are upper class well-educated people)

This morning I was in a hurry, however I made myself a healthy potato and tuna salad. I left it on the table and went to wash my hands before I start eating. I came back to the table and I find my brother’s unwashed hand in my bowl of salad. With a smirk on his face he says “Woops, I didn’t know you were hungry and in a hurry.” Hungry, in a hurry, and now pissed off, I yelled at him. He runs to my mother’s room and 2 minutes later they both come out. My mother tells me “don’t you ever talk to your brother like that.” Later that day, my mother was sitting in the living room. I went in and told her that I needed to talk to her about something. I explained to her why I find it inacceptable that my little brother gets away with everything and that I always have to suffer the consequences. She turned to me and told me in a very serious tone: “He’s a boy; he needs to have a strong character for when he gets married.” Yes, my mother actually did tell me that.

Another day, I was driving down a busy street, minding my own business; a car comes slamming into the back of my car. I stopped and got out of my car to see what the hell happened. A guy behind the wheel of the car that hit me, he was either drunk or high. He looked extremely disoriented; his speech was slurred and couldn’t stand up straight. The people on the street start gathering around the two cars when a police car shows up, and two police officers get out to ask what happened. A complete stranger on the street volunteers to tell the uninformed cops the whole story. “The usual sir, this woman stopped her car suddenly and the guy behind her didn’t have time to stop. She totally wrecked his car. This is what we get for letting women drive. They just can’t do anything right.” I will not share with you how I reacted to this, since it’s my first piece and I wouldn’t want the people out there to get the wrong idea about me. Oh who am I kidding, I don’t care: I kicked him in the crotch and enjoyed the sight of his face turn red. Mom and dad weren’t proud though.

Now I don’t mean to sound like a bitter man-hater. I’m not. I am a sexist-hater whether it’s a man or a woman.

I want to be a successful, productive individual and these people I encounter on a daily basis out there are a real bump on the road for me. Will society always hire the man even if he’s not as qualified as the woman? Will society continue to give the man a bigger salary because of his gender? Will society always come up with crazy unjustified stereotypes about women?

Do you need more reasons explaining why I am a feminist?

-B.

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The “Why I Became a Feminist” series is open to anyone who identifies as feminist and wants to share their story. Please email me at rottenlittlegirls @ gmail.com and I will consider publishing your piece in this series. I’d love to have a broad range of voices and experiences.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5 of the series.

Today, 8 years ago, we learned the cost of oppression and exploitation. We paid for the blood on the sand with blood on our streets. It should have taught us a lesson that the supposedly just, necessary, and righteous assaults on the sovereignty and human freedoms of people of colour around the world by our patriarchal government and corporate masters has consequences and if we sit by and ignore it then WE will pay the toll. Instead we rallied and fear, hate, and racism. God, Guns, and Country rather than humanity, charity, and tolerance. We will never be free of the evils of our oppressors without a true revolution of the heart and mind. We must overthrow this system and learn our lessons and change our ways before it is too late.

- Ian