Rotten Little Girls

In the comments section of this highly controversial post (if you go by the comment section, anyway), I just got this gem of a response:

Shelby
January 11, 2011 12:46 pm

Forever 21 is a private company, they can write whatever they want on their bags. For instance Chick-Fil-A is closed on Sundays because that’s something the founder believed in. So are all the non-Christians who go there getting Christianity pounded into their heads? No. I was an atheist until this past year, and God has done amazing things in my life. Quit your griping, it’s not a big deal. You can believe what you want, I’ll believe what I want. OH and you think Forever 21 is trying to brainwash you? I’d suggest living in a forrest and take on a naturalistic lifestyle, because apparently the world is out to brainwash you regardless of where you shop, where you eat, the music you listen to, the news programs you watch, and the websites you surf.

Shelby, thanks for taking the time to comment. I know you are attempting to mock me, but in fact you are completely correct: The world IS out to brainwash me (and you, and everyone else we know) and we are exposed to this brainwashing where we shop, where we eat, in the music we listen to, the news programs we watch and the websites we surf.

The point of my blog and my personal philosophy is to accept this truth and seek alternatives, to move forward in this world actively resisting and subverting systematic efforts to control people through product placement and corporate funding of campaigns (etcetcetc). So, while living in a forest somewhere, off the grid so to speak, is one response to the problems we face, I prefer to take the path of most resistance.

Cheers.

A part of me that fundamentally still believed in Obama and American politics just broke, irrevocably.

If you didn’t hear, the FCC just made a “victory” in the fight to protect net neutrality (i.e. protecting the internet — and us — from big business interests and censorship).

But really, it was a major defeat, dressed up by Democrats using ambiguous language and trotted out by Obama and his people as evidence that Obama is keeping his promise on the subject of net neutrality.

Wrong.

It’s a slippery fucking slope, folks. As corporations get their well-manicured fingers around the “tubes” of the internet, do not expect to see our beloved World Wide Web ever again. Forget days free of censorship; forget true democracy. Instead, welcome to a re-envisioning of 1984, an Orwellian future so vastly fucked up even Orwell couldn’t have put it to paper.

Don’t believe me? Read this article: They’re calling it net neutrality, but it isn’t.

oh, and this: FCC breaks Obama’s promise, allows corporate censorship online with fake Net Neutrality

And, finally, allow the kid inside of you — the one who grew up learning about how great democracy is, and what a fine institution the American political system is — to cry, to tear up their elementary school memories, because it is finally time to realize the truth:

It wasn’t Bush. It’s not Obama. It’s lobbyists and corporations and the wealthy who run this country and it makes me sick.

Hina: have you been following the assange sexual assault allegations? or the drama around it rather

Me: yes! I am so torn

Hina: yeah… did you see the debate that went down between Naomi Wolf and Jaclyn Friedman on democracy now? It was so heated

Me: Oh man, I need to read this

Hina:

Better yet, you can watch it!

Me: do you have a “side” you’re on? or thoughts on it

Hina: hmm I think they both make good points. I mean it’s idealistic to say that we’re not giving women credit all over the world if we can’t trust them to give real consent. Like, that’s what naomi wolf argues: that we’re belittling women by saying that this is sexual assault when the women were consenting over and over again

Me: oh wow

Hina: but consent isn’t so black and white

Me: I didn’t know that aspect to it. also, no one can know what really happened, that’s the worst of it

Hina: Right

Me: I hate to speculate if it really was unconsensual

Hina: Yeah but really, the fact that these women who made the allegations are being threatened and whatnot is awful

Me: Yeah

Hina: And that’s what Jaclyn is saying…like normal people seeing this scandal will be less likely to report sexual assault

Me: And I feel like, ok, maybe the powers that be are using this politically but if these women are seriously bringing allegations of rape I stand by their decision

Hina: and the officials watching this too might not carry out their duties

Me: it’s also just depressing that people who are supposedly doing so much for the world are also potentially criminal assholes

Hina: Yeah….but that’s so human, you know?

Me: yeahhhh

Hina: We can exist in many different ways

Me: Often contradicting ourselves

Hina: Yup

Me: Bleh, i think it’s time for a RLG post

—-

Readers: What are your thoughts on this controversy? on Wikileaks? on rape and its treatment by the media/society/law enforcement? So many hot button issues rolled into one…

I told myself I was watching the first episode Bridalplasty for “research purposes.” Really, though, I’ve got a morbid curiosity about all things trashy and enormously fucked up. I was expecting to have a few laughs, get a little self-righteously enraged and write a feminist critique of the show.

What I wasn’t expecting? To feel so goddamn sad.

I made it through five minutes of the show before turning it off. The women on this show, instead of inspiring disgust, just inspire pity. They are so image-obsessed, misguided, insecure — but really, it’s like picking up a distorted mirror and watching yourself.

I’m not about to drool over a Hollywood wedding and I’m diametrically opposed to plastic surgery. Even so, these women are lovely…yet they want to undergo massive amounts of plastic surgery to appear more mainstream gorgeous. And I fucking understand where they are coming from.

Watching this show is masochism. Its target demographic is American women — the same women who come in all shapes and sizes, who suffer from anorexia and obesity, from warped images of health and beauty and from a pervasive beauty/fashion/health industry that thrives off of their discontent. Here we have a show about women who are relatively “normal,” who have friends/family and interests and lives — and they are competing with each other for an over-the-top consumerist-wet-dream wedding and the most extreme method of achieving mainstream good-looks. Then we have the women (and maybe some men, and definitely teenagers and the odd child) watching this show, who view this reality shit with a mixture of fascination, disgust, and a huge helping of actually identifying with these women.

This is the most depressing show on television not because it features assholes who think starring in a reality show is “the best thing evarrrr” but because it zeros in on the dark places in our own psyche. The part of us that watches a woman say she wants a nose job and think to ourselves, yeah, if I were her I would too.

Bridalplasty makes me uncomfortable. Yes, it is full of the same bullshit reality-tv-crap that every other reality show is famous for (i.e. the dumbing down of America, sexism, and the sheer violence with which its contestants compete for the prizes), but it adds a new element to American television — thinly-veiled preying on the weak. I’m not talking about the women on the show, but the ones watching it.

I have dated the lead guitar player in a thrash metal band. The cute skateboarder from science class. The DJ who spins and scratches in dark, throbbing clubs. With each of these boyfriends, with each of these dates, music is our common ground — we lay out our cards on the table — “What is your favorite album? Top three? Four?” “Acid Bath changed my life.” “I’ll never forget when I first saw Dio live.” These small intimations — and they are intimations, the most soul-baring sort — are the way we connect. For every band we both like, we fall more in love. For every new band we pass each other’s way, we are more besotten, more charmed.

And yet. Has anyone else felt that it’s always about the boy giving his songs to the girl? Every boyfriend I have ever had has imparted his music onto me. And, being the ravenous consumer I am, I have cherished these bands, collected them, made them (in some way) my own. CKY, Acid Bath, Misfits, The Dwarves, Fair To Midland, Faith No More; these bands were passed onto me from men in my life. They are now integral; I can’t imagine not having them around. Even more cherished are the memories they bring to mind — I cannot listen, for example, to “Horse Pills” by the Dandy Warhols and not think of wine drunk from a grimy water bottle, sitting in a dark car outside some party with someone I was infatuated with years ago.

And yet. I never seem to impart my songs on a man. For there are bands, believe it or not, that I come across on my own. Organically, even. On the radio, sure, or blogs, or by buying a random CD from Best Buy and changing the way I see the world for $9.99 plus tax. Take, for example, the band I hold closest to my heart: Polkadot Cadaver. This is a band that I find particularly brilliant; they have a frenetic Mr. Bungle-esque quality to them that is irresistible. That, coupled with the fact that I discovered them all on my own, makes them my all-time favorite band. (Strong words, those).

However, when I play this band for men in my life, I get muted reactions. No one seems particularly interested in them, and while I don’t really give a shit what people think of my musical tastes, this leads me to think that I must really have bad taste, or, more likely, these guys just don’t care about what I like. They already have their beloved bands, their Neurosis and Megadeth and obscure strictly-underground punk bands.

I’d like to think that maybe I’m completely wrong. That if you lined up my past loves and lovers and questioned them on their musical tastes and memories they associate with songs and songs they associate with memories, they would list bands that I introduced them to, bands that remind them of me, songs and lyrics that bring to mind rainy days spent in bed with me or wild shows that we went to together. Perhaps this isn’t sexism, but merely my inability to know what other people absorb, what other people remember.

Case in point — an ex-boyfriend texted me the other day asking what “that morbid pirate rock band was that you were always listening to?” and then, after I neglected to answer, he replied, “Polkadot Cadaver?”

He was right, and I am glad to be wrong, just this once.

—–

Originally posted here at my failed attempt at a different blog (which I may continue with, with proper encouragement).

I’m pretty activist-minded. I think that’s something I can point to in my life and say – yes, I’m involved. I’ve written a political blog, I’ve minored in Women’s Studies and now I’m doing x, y, and z.

But how much is enough? What is the right amount of activism? Is there a right way to do things?

You’re probably wondering where this is all coming from. Let’s go back a few months…

I moved into a collective house in September. It’s phenomenal. I have nine housemates, all of whom are respectful and delightful to live with. Each is of varying political awareness and all are environmentally-conscious. As a household, we dumpster roughly half our food, buy the rest of our food collectively from a grocery co-op and our communal meals are strictly vegan.

Our house is also a safe space (for everyone, including queer and trans folks), which means certain kinds of behavior and language are not tolerated. Try telling a misogynistic joke and you’ll definitely get an earful.

For the most part, I’m a fan. I feel like everything I talk about on this blog is now my day-to-day life – I’m living, eating, breathing eco-feminist values among a bunch of other people who are equally committed to that cause.

There are lots of these types of houses in my new neighborhood. These collective houses may rally around different causes, but for the most part their members are all living as sustainably as possible in a non-hierarchal manner.

And yet – there is something that troubles me.

I have noticed that among these houses, and the groups affiliated with members of these houses (ranging from community bike collectives to anarchist organizations) there is a significant disconnect. [Note: For the purposes of this post, let’s refer to all people living in these collective houses/members of these groups as activists.] Some activists seem to value their work over others’. Some think others are not “activist” enough. It’s the same old story – even in a marginalized/subculture of society there is a hierarchy. While it’s unspoken and possibly subconscious, it does exist.

And it’s fucking frustrating.

I’m the new girl in these social settings, so I can only speak to this as an outsider/quiet observer. Yet, it is becoming painfully clear to me that there are different ideas of what is acceptable, what should or shouldn’t be said or done – and these ideas vary from group to group, person to person.

So how can we get anything done collectively? I think one solution is to hold more facilitated meetings as a group. Another solution would be for activists to actively keep in mind that they too can make the mistake of acting oppressively or being close-minded. In fact, when one believes so strongly in a cause and is constantly working towards goals within that cause, one can easily be blind to others’ concerns. However, by being open to listening to other people, and taking a step back and really understanding where others are coming from, we can start to bridge these gaps.

People have asked me lately, “Are you an activist?” When I say “Yes,” they inevitably ask, “What do you do?”

I’ve felt pretty silly saying, “Oh, I have a feminist blog I’ve been neglecting lately.” Surely I do more than that, right?

Most of my political acts lately have been personal. My new living situation is a great example of this. But…how quantifiable is personal activism? Does it count if it only really affects me and the people I live with?

Maybe this is a sign that I need to get more active in bigger projects, with wider-reaching goals and effects. But possibly, too, I should admit to myself that right now I’m taking on a lot (a new job, new house, new friends, paying all my own bills….the list goes on) and finding time to be a “better activist” is damn hard right now.

I will make this commitment, however, to myself and to any readers (past or future) of Rotten Little Girls: for the 34545th time, I promise to actually update this blog. Regularly. Then when people ask me if I’m an activist, I can give them this URL and let them decide for themselves.

Kelly

Remember my highly controversial post about the Myth of PMS? After a resurgence of debate, I decided to take a little time out of my work day to link several academic references supporting my opinion. Since, you know, haters gonna hate.

REFERENCES:

The Social Construction of Premenstrual Syndrome
Rodin, M.
Sot. Sci. Med. Vol. 35. No. I, pp. 49-56, 1992
(link)***

“Conceptual and methodological problems inherent in contemporary biomedical re-search on PMS are cited as examples of how medical knowledge is informed by Western beliefs and expectations about the relationship between the menstrual cycle and ‘irrational’ and ‘uncontrollable’ behavior in women.”

“A discourse analytic approach to women’s experience of Premenstrual Syndrome”
Swann, C. J.
Journal of Mental Health
1995, Vol. 4, No. 4 : Pages 359-368 (Link)

“Challenging the Positioning of Premenstrual Change as PMS: The Impact of a Psychological Intervention on Women’s Self-Policing”
Ussher, J. M.
Qualitative Research in Psychology, Volume 5, Issue 1 January 2008 , pages 33 – 44
(link)

Unfortunately some of these are not free articles, but with some sleuthing, or perhaps through your library or college, you should be able to view them fully.

***highly recommended reading

Let’s celebrate, people!

“Indeed the evidence shows Proposition 8 does nothing more than enshrine in the California constitution the notion that opposite sex couples are superior to same sex couples.”

Here’s the link.