Rotten Little Girls

So I went to visit my college town a few months ago and, naturally, went to a bunch of my usual drinking holes. I had a bit of surprise when walking into this one joint that houses a lot of great local acts. For the most part, it looked exactly the same as I’d left it — murals on the walls, cushy couches strewn about haphazardly. Except for, of course, the festive assortment of bras draped from the ceiling.

I’ve seen this odd phenomenon before — in dive bars back home, or in random clubs in various cities. It’s by no means de rigeur (thank god), but it’s cropping up in the most unlikely of places and it leaves me feeling… well, uncomfortable.

I’ve been trying to parse out why this is.

To acquire these bras, bars typically offer some sort of incentive. Maybe a free drink, your name on the wall, that kind of deal. I’ve not been witness to any woman offering her bra up for this exchange, but I can only imagine these females demurely unhooking their bra and slipping the straps off their shoulders and handing the piece of fabric over. The typical locker room shuffle.

However, even if there is an exchange — monetary or otherwise — it still comes out in the bar’s favor.

What does the bar get out of this?

A) The titillation of nearby male customers watching the “show” — leading, perhaps, to increased drink orders (purchased for the very women who remove their brassieres) or increased regular customers

B) Increased interest in the drinks at the bar — buy one, get sloshed, want another.

C) Fueling the male fantasy of “girls gone wild” with an array of bras (a highly sexual symbol) at the bar — again, gaining more regular customers

D) Minimal cost: one shot per bra doesn’t add up to much.

Meanwhile what does the woman get?

A) Dubious “admiration” from fellow bar-mates

B) A drink totaling perhaps $5 in bar-money, $1 or less in reality (given the over-pricing of bar drinks)

C) Handing over an expensive swath of fabric that probably cost upwards of $50 (considering most of the bras I saw were specialty brands or Victoria’s Secret. Most looked new, or in good condition.)

Who comes out on top?

As a female customer, I see these bras and feel uncomfortable. I don’t enjoy looking up and feeling this weird pressure to take my own bra off and add it to the collection. I don’t like wondering why other women took theirs off, or imagining the hooting and hollering that might’ve occurred while they did it.

Maybe I just find it crass and my secret Emily Post is coming out, full of tsk tsks and condescension. Mostly, though, I find it mildly (or flagrantly) exploitative. Which sucks, because goddamnit, I liked that bar.

What do you think? Is it semi-harmless fun a la Girls Gone Wild? (For a parsing-out of that cultural product, see this post). Or is it more insidious than the neon-colored bra-art would lead one to believe?

- Kelly

A Guy Weighs In:

You have to look at what each person is getting out of it. The woman in this situation gets to be edgy/sexy/risque or what have you, without crossing any boundaries that weren’t set by her grandmother, who still thinks that wearing skirts above the knee is a big deal. She also gets to point out to anyone who will listen that the bra that now adorns the bar is hers, and will probably giggle out a solid exaggeration of what too many Cosmos will do to her, and if anyone gets the wrong idea, she can always point out to them that “she’s not that kind of girl” and that the public never actually got to see the twins, so stop getting any ideas, creep.

Meanwhile, the bartender gets a decoration that insinuates to his hordes of alcohol and testosterone fueled minions that the female half of his establishment’s patronage are the the type who will sleep with you if you pump them with enough drinks. At the very least, you’ll get see some titties. This means that every dude in the place trying to get some will be buying for two and mister barkeep will be seeing dollar signs.

- Will

Remember a few weeks back I asked all of you to vote for Avery, a transwoman who had a place in a radio contest for a free breast augmentation (my thoughts on the contest itself can be found here)?

Well, she won, in no small part due to the internet!

Here is a link to the announcement itself and an article over at Unicorn Booty. We at Rotten Little Girls wish Avery the best of luck!

“I’m an anti-feminist, actually.”

I’m standing outside of a doom metal show, hand on my patched jeans, the wind rustling the newly-shaved side of my head. I’ve just met a friend of a friend, Lauren, and we’ve been discussing the proportion of male metalheads to females (I had wagered roughly ten to one).

Then, inexplicably, Lauren expressed the above statement. I think my reaction, at first, was about as eloquent as “huuuuhhhhh?” I recovered quickly, though, and peppered her with the obvious questions:

“What is an anti-feminist?”

“What about the wage disparity between American men and women?”

“You just got back from a study abroad program that took you to the Masai tribes in Africa to rural India, from the Zapatistas in Mexico to the mountains of New Zealand. In all those travels, certainly you saw that feminism is a world prerogative and is not limited to white American women?”

She said (I paraphrase) the following points: we live in a post-feminism country (similar to the post-racial argument bandied about by certain folks in regards to Barack Obama’s presidency). Women should not talk about getting CEO positions, earning equal pay or getting into politics but just do it. There’s no need to talk about feminism or to claim the title. We, as women, have the same opportunities as men and we should just claim them already.

To which I said (more eloquently now, I’m sure, given time to reflect and the absence of alcohol in my system):

It’s all well and good you say that, but you (like me) are a white, college-educated American female. We have white privilege, we have a foot up in many respects thanks to our college degrees, and we live in America, which, despite its many, varied flaws, has already experienced several waves of feminism and activism.

However, even in America all women and girls still face injustices — these injustices may be more aversive than outright, but they are pervasive, insidious and they exist. We can’t pretend they don’t, as nice as denial might feel. Similarly, wealth and education and opportunity and privilege can often blind a person to the plight others face daily and systematically. It’s short-sighted to assume that everyone walks the same path that you do. Furthermore, just because we can’t always understand where another person is coming from, that doesn’t make their experiences any less valid.

As such, feminism is very much relevant.

Why, too, choose the term “anti-feminist”? How can that be a beneficial stance? It’s one thing to not identify as a feminist (even though, ironically enough, most of the non-feminists I talk to agree that we should live in an egalitarian society, which is the main tenet of most branches of feminism). It’s an entirely different thing to reject the very concept of feminism and put down those who claim the title. I don’t think being an “anti-feminist” means exactly what these young, educated women think it does. The only difference between me and Lauren, for example, is that I call myself a feminist and she doesn’t. At the end of the day, after talking to Lauren more about her views (to give her some credit), it became clear that she is a feminist in everything but name.

This willful rejection of feminism is problematic and seems…a little immature. It’s giving off this vibe of “I just want to distance myself from those crazy radical chicks,” so that certain men don’t feel threatened by them or their views. That’s bullshit. Stop trying to appear “laid-back” and “rational” at the expense of effecting positive change. If more people claimed the title feminist, maybe the negative stereotypes (“crazy women,” “hysterical bitches,” “feminazis”) would fall away as more people realized that men and women alike are feminists if they believe that humans should all be equal and enjoy the same opportunities and respect. Is that so very crazy an idea?

I’ve decided I’m going to memorize this quote from Gloria Steinem to say to those who question feminism in my presence. While to most of my readers this quote may seem very obvious, and might spark you to say aloud, “well no shit!”, I think it is one of the most comprehensive, succinct descriptions of what feminism is, regardless of the schisms of thought within feminism, regardless of politics, economic background or nationality: this is what feminism is all about:

“Women are human beings first, with minor differences from men that apply largely to the single act of reproduction. We share the dreams, capabilities, and weaknesses of all human beings, but our occasional pregnancies and other visible differences have been used–even more pervasively, if less brutally than racial differences have been used–to create an “inferior” group and an elaborate division of labor. This division is continued for a clear if often unconscious reason: the economic and social profit of patriarchy males as a group.”

The antidote, I believe, to this “anti-feminism” nonsense is to recommend some good reading. If the person refuses to read any of your suggestions, then you know automatically the caliber of person you’re dealing with anyway. If ignorance is bliss, then let them have it, at the cost of your respect for their opinions. Tough shit.

This is a repost from tumblr (and my friend’s facebook):

“My local radio station is having this contest, “The Breast Summer Ever” in which the company will fully fund the breast augmentation of the winning woman, on a voting system. I just wanted to bring to your attention that anyone can vote, and one of our own, a transwoman named Avery (#4) has made the top ten, causing a but of controversy in our very conservative city. I think that it would send a very strong message, not to mention make her dream come true if she was to win. But there is no way that she can do it without the help of the community. All you have to do is press a button and your vote is cast. As I’m sure you are all aware, transphobia rates decrease with the ability to pass, and just imagine what this would do to her self esteem. You can vote here.”

In my friend’s words:

“…subvert this shitty misogynistic contest … while also getting a trans person the surgery she wants fer free.”

I voted. I wish Avery the best of luck.

I used to be a political junkie.

I majored in poli-sci in college and although I took only one class specifically on American politics, by virtue of the major, I read, discussed and listened to a lot of different views on our current political culture.

I followed the 2008 elections with keen interest. If you look at my old posts there are scores of articles on why McCain sucked, why Obama deserved to win, and so on.

I have come to realize, however, that none of it really fucking matters.

On the political spectrum, the Democrats and Republicans are about as different as red and green apples. Sure, one is a little more sweet, another more tart, but when it comes down to it, they are both still apples and both are worm-ridden motherfuckers at that.

Let’s take Obama, par example. Sure, he’s half-black, he’s liberal, he’s smart and on the face of things, a vastly more likeable dude than McCain and Bush (Sr & Jr) combined. However, he still kowtows to the same BS every other US president in recent history:

Married? Check. Kids? Check, check. God-fearing Christian? Checkity. Pro-war? Infinitely. Effecting any real change? Zip. Zilch. In your dreams.

Obama’s slogan is another example of the same problem. “Change we can believe in.” Isn’t that what every prospective candidate purports? “I’m gonna change everything.” “I’ll bring a new kind of politics to Washington.” “We need more transparency in government.”

Shut the fuck up already. Let’s start by being honest, shall we? “I need money to fund my campaign so I’m going to say exactly what you want to hear.” “Corporations have more money than most people, therefore my acts as President will fall directly in line with their interests.” “I will continue to fuel the American war machine.” “I just want to get re-elected.”

I don’t know that I want anarchy, per se. I do know, however, that I can’t stand the status quo we’ve got going on right now. You’d think we figured out the “answer” in 1776 and gave the fuck up on actual progress since then. What happened to the Constitution being a “living document” that could be overhauled to represent the people it’s actually representing? What about a real democracy in which the people alive have a fucking say in how they are governed, by whom they are governed and whether they need governing at all?

I used to say, well, even if your vote doesn’t really count (cough, electoral college), it’s best to go to the polls anyway. How else can you claim to be an engaged citizen? But really, I’m starting to understand why millions of Americans simply don’t vote. It’s not just because our votes don’t matter, but because neither candidates is actually ever deserving of the title President. In fact, no one in politics at this point in time, or so it appears to me, has any fucking clue how to effect real change, despite their catchy campaign slogans and nifty debate points.

Is there a solution? I don’t know. As Mark from the Unseen said at last night’s show, here is a song about that point in time when you realize nothing is ever going to fucking change. I leave you with these lyrics:

It’s all been said it’s all been done
Well fuck the government, fuck the world
I hope they all burn down
I despise the government
and nothing’s getting solved
You think you’re so fucking right
Well think once for yourself

Try all you want
Nothing’s getting solved
False hope”

I’m frustrated and I don’t know what to do about it.

Kelly

So I’m missing out on tonight’s Dating While Feminist panel discussion (fellow Bostonians – it’s from 6-10pm tonight at the Lir Irish Pub on Boylston, and it features Jaclyn Friedman as moderator!) because I have a standing date with my father and my uncle to drink some vino, enjoy the gourmet meal my dad has most likely been plotting for days and watch the Godfather II. This is a time honored tradition for the three of us, so there’s really no way I can miss it – though I admit to thinking about dragging the two of them out to the event with me, securing my dad at the bar with a few pints of Guinness and then watching the panel with my uncle.

But instead, I thought I’d give you all (read: whoever still reads this thing) an update on my love life (ha!) and my thoughts on …dating while feminist…!

So. Yeah. I broke down and did the whole “internet dating thing” recently. The legit version. I’ve been grabbing random dates off craigslist since I was 19 (all of which were fun, safe and did not result in my untimely death), but I figured why not go the Web 2.0 way of it, and sign up for OkCupid.

I did. It was cool. Met a few nice people off of it, one of which I’m planning on seeing again. However, in the midst of all that there was this one guy… let’s call him Connor. So Connor was, at the start of it, totally my type. I showed up ten minutes late (as I am prone to doing) at the bar we were meeting at and he already had a shot of Jameson and a beer in front of him… and proceeded to order me a round. Nose ring, homemade tattoos, closely cropped locks. I was a fan. We talked 70’s skinhead Oi, we talked politics, we swapped favorite authors and made friends with the 60-something drunks next to us. It was a fantastic first date, quite frankly.

Then, as we hung out some more, little things started standing out to me. Number one was his reaction when I proclaimed that I was a feminist. I believe he said something to the tune of “oh, fuck, not a feminist. Not one of those bitches who can’t take a joke.” I turned my evil eye on him and swiftly corrected his opinion of me, and of feminists in general, and felt satisfied with his response once we had a serious talk about feminism and what it means to me. I felt like, hey, you know, he might say some shit off the top of his head that isn’t the greatest, but I am known to be impulsive and blunt myself and at least he’s willing to talk this shit through and be open-minded.

So I thought.

Flash forward a date or two. We are walking to his favorite bar and I don’t know how we got on the subject but he starts down this rabbit hole of a conversation about strip clubs. Now, I’ve gone through my days of this being a huge hot topic point for me – one that gets me riled up at the drop of a hat. Not so anymore – now I can at least listen to someone say they’ve been or go to strip joints and accept that they make their choices and I make mine. I try not to judge, though I still personally would never support a strip club with my money. So I’m trying my hardest not to think negatively of this guy, when he proceeds to tell me that:

“One time I was at this sketchy ass strip club in Worcester, it was basically in some guy’s house. And I got so fuckin wasted and I paid one stripper to lick the other’s c-section scar. It was hilarious.”

I kinda just stared up at him a minute, letting myself process this. Then I said, and I quote, “YOU ARE FUCKING DEPRAVED” quite loudly, and in front of a few people on the street.

I just didn’t (and don’t) get it. That’s some pure exploitative, humiliating bullshit right there. Oh, yeah, let’s find a strip club that is off the grid and even less likely to pay their workers fairly, oh and let’s get these women to engage in an act that isn’t even sexual so much as creepy. Not to mention the fact that a c-section scar is related to childbirth…

So I haven’t seen Connor since and don’t plan to. How can I, as a female and as a feminist, date or considering dating someone like that? How can someone do stupid and cruel shit to people and be good to me? Can you count on someone like that to respect you if they can’t respect other people’s humanity?

There were other awful things that this guy said, mostly for the shock factor as far I’m concerned, that I had overlooked. But this, this I couldn’t. Even if I was okay with what he was saying, I certainly couldn’t take him home to meet my housemates – and to me, that is a deal-breaker in itself.

This is what dating as a feminist is about, to be perfectly honest. It’s about putting your values first. Sure, this guy wasn’t about to ask me to lick anyone’s scars. Most likely, I wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of any objectification from him and for the most part he treated me with respect and kindness. But if he’s a dick to other women and/or does or says truly offensive things to other people, I just can’t hack it.

I’ve had plenty of guys I’m dating say pretty shitty things about feminism and about my values. The guy I was seeing over summer said to me, after a month or two of dating and always being (seemingly) supportive of my feminist beliefs, “I’m sick of your feminist bullshit.” That was the end of that relationship, right there. Sure it took a few weeks of going back and forth in my head, but I felt it in my gut when he said that to me.

But not all hope is lost. I’ve been meeting a lot of sincerely feminist men lately – ever since moving into this co-op I’ve been surrounded by lots of individuals who believe in activism, kindness and equality and are uncompromisingly passionate about these beliefs. I feel spoiled, really, which is kind of sad to think of it that way. But it’s true. I’ve hooked up with boys who practice consent. I am living with some guys who have a men’s discussion group in which they discuss privilege and being allies to the feminist cause. There’s a guy in our community putting on a punk festival (with radical workshops) to raise money for a Boston area rape crisis center.** Shit, that’s the kind of thing that’ll make a rotten little girl swoon.

So essentially – my advice is this: date feminist, always. Don’t settle. Stand up for your fucking values in every facet of your life. The personal is fucking political.

And, in the words of PRUNEHANDS, this ill radical rapper I live with, “There are too many beautiful feminist boys getting your ranting chops rusty. We got your backs rotten little girls!”

- Kelly

** If anyone is from Boston – check out the aforementioned Smash It Dead fest on March 27. Feel free to email me for details!