It comes as some surprise then, that Jessica Valenti is the face of third-wave feminism. Here I was, thinking we're all unorganized and we have no direction. Silly me.

I found out about Jessica Valenti and her newest role from this blog post discussing post-feminism and Jessica Valenti's response. The author of the post, Bondo, invited Ms. Valenti to respond to his critiques of her work and post-feminism, and she respectfully declined, as she runs one of the largest feminist websites on the internet and has published several books and is teaching a class at Rutgers this fall. She's a little busy.

So here's the thing: why is she the face of feminism, the one that non-feminists go to, when there are other feminists out there with differing beliefs, or more articulate writing styles, or more time on their hands to educate the non-feminists about feminism? Is it because "might is right," and since she has the largest website/most books, she gets the coveted status? After all, she is doing a lot of publishing and talking about feminism today.

I'm not going for sour grapes, here. It's just that I seemed to have missed the memo about our newest leader. So what do you do when you don't always agree with the leader of your movement, but you know that people are going to point to her when you tell them you're a feminist? Dissent within the ranks is allowed, of course, but it tends to weaken the message of movements like feminism. In thirty years, are kids in high school going to learn about only Jessica Valenti in their history textbooks?

Dear Courtney,

I read your opinions about the MTA raising awareness about sexual
misconduct on the subways and found it very naive and written from a very
white-middle-class-women-studies-privaleged perspective. You are correct
that women have been dealing with this kind of stuff from guys for years,
but what about how women dress in the subways? Today (after reading your
opinion) while on the subway, I saw a woman sit near me with a very low cut
shirt and very large tits...she looked hot! I totally stared at her tits
any chance I could get...which is probably why she wore the shirt right? I
also see scores of women with those cotton summer dresses on and just a
thong underneath, so you see their asses bobbling around under the skirt.
That sounds like blaming the victim right? Well when you leave almost
nothing to the imagination, it doesn't take much for it to run wild. This
is not to say you whip your cock out at any moment or press your boner on
any tart that wears a hot outfit, but where they "asking for it"? I know
you are probably fuming by now, but from the looks of your picture you
probably don't get sexually harrassed much, so maybe you are jealous of all
of the hot-ass bitches with the big titties, shaved snatches and round
asses that get some action underground.

hells to the motherfuckin' yeah!!!!

Chance Noble

His e-mail address is snhca@exit3.com if anyone would like to know. :)

Yearbooks are another great example of this. I agonized over what to write for my grad message, quote, pet peeve and hero. This was, after all, the little snippet by which people were going to remember me forever. You flip through your yearbook and look at these things, and think "oh yeah, Jane would say something like that... and that did bug her a lot." In the end, I said Raine Maida was my hero (I honestly remembered writing someone else down, and though I do love the man, at the moment I would choose either Matt Good or Jessica Valenti), my pet peeve was "serious conversations at 2 in the morning" (in response to something that happened once a couple days before I wrote that, and is no longer the least bit relevant or funny) and I can't even remember my quote. It was probably "Happiness isn't something you experience, it's something you remember" by Oscar Levant. That or "There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line," also Levant. Actually, I think it was the latter. These days, I usually quote Chuck Pahlaniuk. The autograph page is just as guilty on this front. How many of you fought to find the wittiest, funniest, most profound things to write in your friend's yearbooks? Inside jokes, moments that you shared, little things that would capture you in that moment. I believe most of my comments this year were about how no matter how hard I tried, I would never capture the reality of the year and I hoped they were able to remember me for who I was and how we interacted.

This just goes to show that nothing is immortal, is it? I've changed immensly since October or whenever it was that I wrote those things. It hasn't even been a year and I am not the same person. My yearbook profile is a shallow little snapshot of who I was that week at best, with a literal picture next to it.

And what about photographs? They're meant to visually represent a life, event or place. Family pictures are the worst. They show happy, posing families with smiles on their faces. Even candid shots are nice. No one ever takes pictures of the bad times. Even journalistic photographs have an agenda. They are taken to get a point across, whether that point be devastation, resourcefulness or joy.

In the end, there is nothing we can do to permanently imprint ourselves on another's life, save be a part of it. That's it, just interact with people. I still remember the kid with the rat-tail that hit me in the face with a wooden train in kindergarten. He certainly never wrote anything funny in my yearbook. While I hope my blog will represent me with some degree of accuracy, I know that it and I will change. It's already changed in the few weeks I've been writing it. I started it hoping to be some sort of blog messiah and write about the state of affairs of our society, et cetera et cetera, much in the style of Waiter, Jessica and Matt. While I do have commentary on the election, politics and the like, I've found and I think demonstrated that my heart lies with movie reviews. That really surprises me. Reflecting, I see that it is comfortable for me as media (not TV, radio in news, rather books, music and movies) have always been a very important part of my life. In the end, that was my goal, to have an outlet in which to find my voice. I'm glad I have.

I'm sure I'll return to this subject in the future, as my views will change or deepen, no doubt.

Edit: I wrote this a while ago (August 6th) and somehow failed to click "publish". That's why it's only coming out today.

This is not entirely unexpected, but so bothersome when you hear about how calculated TV news is in a real instance. News media must make money. Sensationalism brings in the viewers and the money. Blaming individuals and framing a debate as a cat fight is sensational. Legitimate, boring explanations that have to do with money and social inequality...meh, we'll pass. This really is so frustrating.

With stakes like these in the mainstream media, it's hard to imagine real social change being instigated in these traditional forums...This is part of the reason I'm so grateful for alternative media (like Democracy Now! just as an example), and especially for the existence of blogs. I know we always question just what kind of impact or influence blogs have, but just think where we'd be without them. Though the audiences for blogs are self-selected and certainly more limited than the audience that would be watching the morning news show Courtney was asked to speak on, the very fact that we can turn to Feministing to hear about this instance and to hear the very arguments Courtney wanted to share on TV is a huge step forward. It's progress, and I think an essential part of the path to positive social change.

A lot of the time when I can't sleep, it's because I'm obsessing on one particular thought or series of thoughts.  Sometimes it's because I'm excited about something.  Tonight it seemed like I just had the vague sensation of having forgot something.  Like, maybe I had forgotten to think of something or obsess over it.  Maybe there was some future conversation that I hadn't imagined yet and run through twelve hundred times in my head.    One of these days, I'm going to be better at meditating that stuff out.   Well, actually, I can meditate it out, but meditation doesn't put me to sleep.   Me'da says it works for him, but for me, it sort of heightened relaxed state, so it's like I'm too focused on being relaxed to be relaxed enough to fall asleep.

Whatever.  Rambling.  See this.  This is why I don't sleep.  This is exactly what goes through my head.

Anyway, so I'm sitting here on the computer, and I'm reading blogs, and I see this one blog on Feministing about a documentary, and one of the people interviewed in the clip is an author.  Next thing you know, I'm looking her up on Amazon, and buying three books.   

Aarrrggghhhh!  I need to go to sleep before I buy any shoes.  I don't need shoes.  I don't.

Anyway, here's the trailer for the documentary that started this all:

Why are middle and upper-middle class families and their precious Disney vacations the face of the rising cost of gasoline and not the working class families who lived month to month as it was before the exponential price increases…who maybe have to skimp on food or medical services, and for whom a Myrtle Beach trip isn’t even on their radar? Instead of moping about being stuck at home, maybe some of these families should spend part of their summer volunteering for charities who help those who will only ever hear about DisneyWorld in the stories told by other more fortunate kids.

Really, though, how did it get like this? No wonder right wing assholes certain people think Americans are babies about the economy -- because they don't stop to think about how these rising prices affect people already barely getting by, and few people in the mainstream media seem to care to show them.

Honestly, if I ever hear about the tragedy of the "staycation" again...no, no, make that, if I ever even hear the word "staycation" again, I may have to take a permanent vacation from reading travel and leisure newspaper sections.

Also? A few more books that look worth reading are mentioned in the trailer, including Leslie Talbot's Singular Existence and Jerusha Stewart's A Single Girl's Manifesta. I imagine you'll be hearing more about these books here once we get our hands on them, but if any of you happen to have any info/thoughts/reactions about these books or others, we'd love to know!

- L

"Value yourself for what the media doesn't--your intelligence, your street smarts, your ability to play a kick-ass game of pool, whatever. So long as it's not just valuing yourself for your ability to look hot in a bikini and be available to men, it's an improvement."

Full Frontal Feminism's text skips along while it imparts knowledge--a rare enough combination. The book condenses the contents of a thirteen-page bibliography into colloquial prose, presenting vivid example after vivid example of why we all (women *and* men) need to identify as feminists and buck the ridiculous stereotype that feminists are always hairy-legged man-haters. (Not that it isn't sometimes delightful to forego shaving for weeks on end during the winter.)  

Don't open this book if strong (some would say "foul") language offends you in and of itself. But if you're ready for a dose of hard-core truth about women's ongoing struggle to even the playing field with men, then you'll love this book. Valenti speaks her mind, but her style is not so much "in-your-face" as, "Hey, you're a smart reader--once I tell you this shocking story, you'll have the awareness and incentive to do better, to change things".

I remember when the media were ragging on Hillary Clinton because of her headbands. As a frequent headband wearer myself at the time, I felt indignant. I didn't scale back on my headband-wearing, but when I did wear them, a niggling part of me wondered whether they were as stylish as I had thought. So I was thrilled to see Valenti bring up the headband issue and carry it through with this example: "While all women are subject to being judged by their appearance, women in leadership positions get it like crazy. . . former governor of Maryland and 2006 state comptroller William Donald Schaefer told a Washington Post reporter that his 2006 opponent, Janet Owens, is a 'prissy little miss' who wears 'long dresses [and] looks like Mother Hubbard--it's sort of like she was a man.' He said in an interview, 'She's got these long clothes on and an old-fashioned hairdo. . . You know, it sort of makes you real mad.' Uh huh. Can you imagine someone talking about the hairdo and clothes of a male candidate?"

Here's another good one:

"In the same breath, President Bush managed to talk about his Healthy Marriage Initiative (the program that tells women on welfare that they don't need a job, they need a man) and define marriage as a heterosexual institution. . . Clearly, romance has become the domain of the dollar--and the government. So I say let's take it back. There's no reason we can't have fulfilling romantic lives without adhering to bullshit standards that are set before us. Mix it up. Create your own standards and your own romantic norms." 

That's Onely!

Above I said that Valenti's style, while strong and direct, is respectful of her readers' intelligence and decision-making capabilities. (A metaphor for feminist culture as a whole?) I only noticed one instance in the entire book where this style falters:

Background--Valenti firmly believes that women should keep their last names when they marry. So, as it happens, do I. I'm astonished that this remnant of the women-as-property days remains so ensconced and pervasive in society. However, my friends who have taken their husbands' names say they do it as a loving gesture, a way to commit. So I was wondering how they would react to this in-your-face part of Full Frontal Feminism:

"While at the end of the day I'm not going to fault someone for wanting a ring, there are certain things (and maybe because they don't have anything to do with jewelery) I can't get over. For the life of me, I will never understand why a woman today would change her last name. It makes no sense whatsoever. You want future kids to have the same last name as you and your hubby? Hyphenate, bitch! Or do something, anything, but change your last name. It's the ultimate buy-in of sexist bullshit. It epitomizes the idea that you are not your own person."

My reaction was to laugh hysterically and add "Hyphenate, bitch!" to my not-yet-online quoteboard. Then I wanted to tell someone about this awesome line I read in a book--but all of a sudden I wasn't sure whom to tell. Lisa, my Onely co-blogger, for sure.

But most of my friends are married, with changed last names, and of those who aren't, I'm not sure how they feel about the whole issue. I could bring up the topic with them, but not necessarily the (to me) fabulous wording. The strong wording of the above paragraph, which so pleased me (because I happen agree with it), might have antagonized the people I wanted to share it with, if they weren't on my same page about namechanging.

I guess that's always the question--where is that line between straight-talk and and talk that puts people on the defensive so that they actually rebel against absorbing what you're saying? Where is the line between refraining from saying something because you're chickenshit afraid to offend a friend, or refraining from saying something our of respect for your friend's judgement?

FFF walks that line but never crosses it except, maybe, just that once. However, I'd be interested to see what other readers think--especially readers who don't necessarily *start* reading as Full Frontal Feminists already (which probably has skewed my impression of the book). So, comments anyone?????

Thanks to Penny for giving me this book! 

--CC

Take Feminsting’s ongoing criticism of PETA’s various naked women against mistreating animal campaigns. Most of the stuff they say about that campaign, i.e their objectifying women to get men’s attention for an issue that has nothing to do with sex, but so what? It’s not a convert strategy on their part and if using more male models would get the same response I’m sure they do it. The basic take away point you get reading these posts criticizing PETA is that naked women as part of social activism is something that needs to be discussed extensively on the internet.

Secondly regarding these Europe needs to show “leadership” (build more tanks and warplanes) and help the US run the world conservative opinion pieces; it’s not just that they’re wrong, but that they’re suggesting something that is just not going to happen.

Europe showing leadership in a way that a U.S. Conservatives would appreciate is just not on the agenda for the foreseeable future. It would be writing an opinion piece suggesting the U.S. nationalize its automotive industry, or that the United States enter into a formal alliance with Iran.

Check out this author’s query from Elaine Tyler May, amazing feminist historian and big fan of feministing. (She’s the one who wrote feminist classic Homeward Bound, that I reviewed alongside Faludi last month.) Please, please take some time and respond!

The Pill is often considered one of the most important innovations of the twentieth century. As I investigate this claim for a new book—set for release on the 50th anniversary of the Pill’s FDA approval (Basic Books, 2010)—I’m looking to include the voices and stories of real people. I hope yours will be one of them. I’m eager to hear from men as well as women, of all ages and backgrounds.
Have you or any of your partners taken the Pill? Why or why not? How did it work for you—physically, emotionally, and ethically? How has it compared with other contraceptive methods you or your partners have used?

What has been the impact of the Pill on your sex life, relationships, political or social attitudes, and beliefs about the medical or pharmaceutical establishments?

Do you have opinions about public policies related to access, availability, approval or limitations on the development and distribution of the Pill and related contraceptive products (the patch, the “morning after pill,” long-term injections, etc.).

Anything else you think I should know?

Send me (elainetylermay@gmail.com) your most richly detailed answers to any and all of these questions (and don’t forget to include your age, gender, where you live, occupation, ethnic/religious/racial background, sexual orientation, marital status, political party affiliation, or any other biographical info you think is important).

If you would like to participate in my study but would prefer to respond to a questionnaire, please let me know and I will happily send you one.

I’m interested in hearing from men and women who have used the Pill and those who have not, those who used it briefly or a long time ago, or who use it now. I am also eager to hear from people who work in fields that relate to the use and availability of the Pill (such as medicine, public health, social work, education, etc.). You will remain anonymous. I will use your contact information only to respond to you directly and to let you know when the book will be available for purchase (at a discount to contributors!).

And just one more thing. I not only want to hear your voice, but the voices of those you love, teach, preach to, learn from, and work with. Please pass this request on! The more responses I receive, and the greater the diversity of respondents, the more the book will reflect the wide range of experiences and attitudes that have shaped the Pill’s history over the last half century.

Thanks very much!
Elaine Tyler May

Elaine Tyler May grew up in Los Angeles and now teaches at the University of Minnesota. She was twelve years old in 1960 when the Pill was approved by the FDA. Although not yet old enough for the event to have any personal significance for her, she was already interested in the subject because her father was one of the clinical researchers who helped develop the Pill, and her mother was a founder of free birth control clinics in Los Angeles. In spite of her later efforts at responsible use of contraception, she is the mother of three offspring.

I intended to write up a quick response, but true to me, it went on for quite a while. I discovered that viewing my life through the lens of reproduction really put a different emphasis on things. I'm posting my response here, both because it's like a free blog post, and to encourage others to write their own stories and send them to Elaine.

First, the demographic info:

Age: 25
Gender: Female
Location: (removed)

Occupation:  (removed)

Ethnic background: Hispanic, but I look white and was raised by the white side of my family
Religious background: My father was a recovered Catholic. My mother's a recent born-again, but not a pushy one. I was never baptized. Not much of a religious background at all.
Racial background: Visually perceived as white, and raised as white, so pretty much white.
Sexual orientation: Bisexual
Martial status: Divorced. Currently in a heterosexual monogamous relationship.
Political party affiliation: Used to be a Democrat. Now I'm one of those people who write in "Some Other Crook."

Have you or any of your partners taken the Pill?
I've been on the pill, on and off, since I was sixteen. I provided my first girlfriend with the information she needed to make a decision about birth control, and she eventually decided on the pill, mostly because it was the only option that was both fully in her control and provided the necessary excuse that it was for her cramps or complexion, so her father wouldn't know she was having sex.

Why or why not?
I got on the pill after I had runaway from an abusive home. At that time, (state removed) did not have a parental consent law. After running away, I started to force myself to get interested in politics, which bored me to tears, because I felt it was probably a matter of life and death at this point that I understand the laws that may apply to me. At that time (name removed) was our governor, and though I can say a lot of nasty things about him, he was a stalwart protector of reproductive rights, and never missed a chance to make good on his campaign promise to veto every bill restricting abortion. He even vetoed a regular finance bill and almost shut down the entire city because there was abortion language in there. I respected the hell out of that.

But I knew as soon as he was out of office, the pendulum would swing back to conservative and a parental consent law would pass. If it passed while I was still a minor, I was terrified of the prospect of having to get my abusive father's consent (my mother, at that time, was a drug addict, whereabouts unknown). My dad would have let me get an abortion, I knew, but to get him to sign the papers I would have had to reveal my location, and my dad had warned me that as soon as he knew where I was he was going to have me committed.

So I went to Planned Parenthood and got on the pill. I wasn't having sex at the time, but I wasn't sure when I would start, and I was always concerned with rape. I had read the statistics on runaways and knew I had a pretty high chance of rape and sexual abuse.

I kept on the pill because it was easy and available, and I didn't know very much about any other methods of birth control. What I did learn didn't appeal to me -- I didn't like shots and I didn't like the idea of having something implanted in me. I preferred sex without condoms, and so did my partner. And though I wasn't able to vocalize or understand this at the time, the fact was my partner was abusive (out of the frying pan, into the fire... he wasn't as bad as my father at first, so that's all I really knew about relationships), and I unconsciously did not trust him enough with condoms. I wanted to have the control over my pregnancy, and he really preferred I did, too, because then he wouldn't have to think about it.

As for my girlfriend who got on it... well, first let me explain. She was involved with me and my abusive partner. She was significantly younger than us, and had also come from an abusive past, meaning she had just as little protection and boundaries as I did. While there was initially a genuine attraction between us, after a while we were just both being abused by my boyfriend, having sex we didn't want to keep him happy. I helped get her on the pill at my boyfriend's behest, but I had my own reasons. Just as I knew I didn't trust my boyfriend to be safe with me, I didn't trust him to be safe with her. She was more vulnerable than I was, and had gone to high school during Bush's presidency, which meant her understanding of safe sex and reproduction was just utter trash.

So I encouraged her to get on the pill, so she would be safe. Actually, I wanted her to take Depo, or Norplant, because she was sort of spacey and I was afraid she would forget her pill and get pregnant. But she couldn't let her dad know she was having sex -- he was some kind of crazy -- so the pill gave her the complexion excuse. I kept fanatical track of her cycles, because at any time she might forget her pill and my boyfriend would have sex with her anyway, unless I could come in with some scientific shit about how it was this point of her cycle and he would definitely knock her up. Only then would he put on a condom, and usually only if I went to buy them. Otherwise, he'd just pull out or make her give him a blowjob instead. I remember many times literally running to the store, because I had a (very realistic) fear that if I didn't get back with condoms fast enough, he'd just start fucking her, and she'd be too nervous and afraid to say no. I knew he'd do this to her because he did it to me, which is why I was like clockwork about my pill.

This is a really fucked-up story, sorry.

How did it work for you—physically, emotionally, and ethically?

We'll start with physically.

At some point I switched to a new kind of pill that flipped me out completely. Just a bad combination of chemicals. I couldn't think straight, I was always tired and overheated and on the verge of a migraine, I was retaining water like a sponge, and my emotions were just a powder keg. Because I couldn't think very straight, it took me a while to realize these were all side effects I had read about with the pill. And because my partner was abusive, he tended to deal with my emotions by doping me up, or making fun of me for crying. So, for several months I was in too much of a haze, and too busy blaming myself, to recognize that I was having a chemical problem. When I finally realized it, I quit taking that pill immediately and turned around in about 72 hours.

I had done more research on different forms of contraception by that point -- I was majoring in Women's Studies, so I had a lot of resources available to me -- and I felt comfortable enough with what I'd heard about IUDs to ask my gyno. It all sounded good, except when we got to whether or not I was in a monogamous relationship. My fiance and I had an "open" relationship, which meant he got to have sex with other women but I did not get to have sex with other men. Because the risk of STD was therefore higher, my gyno warned me of the possibility that an IUD could scar my fallopian tubes if I got an STD, and I could end up infertile.

I have never thought about things this way -- in my mind, the story of how I started to move away from my abusive relationship starts much later down the road -- but I can look back now and see that this conversation with my gyno provided me with some clues. I talked to her about our "in theory" system -- always protection, get tested every six months -- which I followed, but knew he did not. And for the first time I wondered, why doesn't he? I was unable to perceive what he did to me as wrong, but I suddenly thought about all our potential future partners, and realized he was being enormously disrespectful to them by not following through with basic safety. It was the first time I really let myself realize that my fiance was "disrespectful," which was the most I could really allow myself to say at the time.

If I was sleeping with another woman (which I was allowed to do, provided I tried to get them to have sex with him, too, and described to him every encounter in embarrassing detail), I knew my chances of infection were ridiculously low, but I always had dental dams and latex gloves stocked up, and always asked about STDs and talked about the possibility of using gloves or dams. I thought that was my polite responsibility as a politely responsible lover, to be prepared. Yet I knew with my fiance, we would occasionally have unsafe sex because it was easier than telling him to stop. He rested the responsibility entirely on me to explain why we should stop, how big the risk was, and if he didn't think it was too risky, well, we were just going to go ahead and have sex. I was pretty well resigned to the idea that at some point I was going to have to abort his baby. The only thing I was really afraid of was that my girlfriend would someday have to do the same.

If I had explained all that to my gyno, she probably would have referred me somewhere shelter-y and things would have gone much differently. But I didn't. My fiance had it worked into my head that I couldn't talk about these things, because people would discriminate against us for being poly. Still, I did recognize that with my fiance the way he was, the chance that he could get an STD and not tell me about it was pretty high. He was certainly the sort to lie or downplay, but he was more the sort to fester in his own filth all day, so it was pretty likely that he could get an STD, have symptoms, and not bother going to the doctor until his dick exploded or something.

My priorities were pretty messed up at the time. Without an IUD or the pill, I might get pregnant AND an STD, but, as I said, I was already resigned to having to get an abortion someday, and I didn't care very much about being infected with anything, because I didn't care very much about myself. But I knew if I became infertile, my fiance's interest in being with me would drop, and I would have also done something irreversible to myself. All the emotional abuse he heaped upon me, I didn't understand how permanently disfiguring that was, too.

So I told my gyno I would think about the IUD and get back to her.

I wasn't interested in any other method of birth control. My bad experience with the pill made me highly distrustful of any other hormonal cocktail, like Depo or Norplant. I had also added a major in African-American Studies onto my academic schedule, and after reading about the history and demographic use of Depo and Norplant, I couldn't morally allow myself to give those companies my money.

I spent about a year off the pill, and after that time I felt okay enough about my bad experience with it to go back. That time off the pill was pretty good, I think. Since I had been on the pill since I was sixteen, and before that I had been malnourished and without my periods, I had never really been able to experience my body in adulthood without chemicals. My period became a restful state for me, where I cut myself some slack for a few days, gave myself the luxury of eating food I normally wouldn't let myself eat, of laying down, watching a movie, reading a book, taking a bath. I never did that on the pill, because I thought, hey, I'm on the pill because I'm a woman on the go. I shouldn't even be having these cramps or being tired. I was able to connect, much more, with what my body was telling me it needed, because there were no longer chemicals to actually obscure my needs, or my brain telling me I had chemicals in my system so I ought to ignore my needs.

During this time, my then-husband pretty much stopped having sex with me. He would have kept having sex with me, if I had kept us stocked with condoms. But after the first box ran out, it became one of those married couple passive-aggressive things. I left the empty box out in plain sight, and waited for him to go buy some for once in his goddamn life. He made hints about how much he was really thinking of sexing me the other day, but alas, no condoms. He made hints about blowjobs, but I had TMJ, which I believed to be the source of my inability to give him head without experiencing incredible pain -- I know now that about 80% of that was a psychological panic button.

A few times he tried to fuck me without condoms, but by that point I had been through enough Women's Studies courses that I could talk convincingly about my cycles and fertility. He was terrified of having a baby, and I played up his fear pretty well, with a lot of science words that I knew he'd never bother looking up. So, in the end, we just stopped having sex.

Just like I'd never had the chance to experience my adult body without chemicals, I'd never had the chance to experience my adult body without him; he had been my first lover, and my first very serious boyfriend, and I had started seeing him only months before I left home. I couldn't really connect the dots in my head, but I did find that not having sex with my husband made me feel sexier than I ever had in my life. He frequently made comments about how I smelled, looked, felt, that I was too hairy or too fat or didn't move around enough. Those comments washed right over me without even registering, because I was just too desensitized to emotional abuse to recognize it as hurtful anymore. So I wasn't able to understand why a sudden prolonged abstinence made me feel so unbelieviably gorgeous and hot, but there it was.

Ethically, I had a lot of seriously convoluted issues. Not having sex with my husband only made him fuck our girlfriend more often, and I was terrified for her. Luckily, she had moved out of state, so her exposure was minimized to his insistence on constant internet sex. I also felt I was being tremendously manipulative, and generally a rotten person, for not having sex with my husband. But then I'd imagine walking down to the store to buy the condoms, and how happy he'd be with me when I got home, and I just felt sick. I also had a weird feeling of being a bad feminist. I mean, women worked so hard for so long to have control over their reproduction, and here I was just kicking the pill and sex right to the goddamn curb. At this point I learned a lot outside of second-wave feminism; about the wide spectrum of reproductive issues that non-white, non-middle class women have. I developed a lot of very strong (but completely disingenous) ethical reasons that I would not take the pill, or any other form of hormonal control. Researching my fake reasons gave me a lot more understanding of the history and use (and misuse) of female-centered, physiologically-altering birth control, which today has led me to have much more genuine ethical concerns about what I put in my body, and who wants me to put it there, and who profits from my consumption of chemicals.

How has it compared with other contraceptive methods you or your partners have used?

I guess I sort of covered that, but I'll be more general. I do prefer the pill. I have very heavy periods when I'm not on hormonal birth control. The IUD is not recommended for those with heavy periods, and I guess I have never gotten over the fear my ex instilled in me, that anybody could turn into a fuckwad at any time and give me an STD. At this point in my life, I am not particularly concerned with infertility -- I would rather adopt -- but the idea of somebody physically taking something from me is horrifying.

I still have ethical problems with Norplant and Depo, and I don't like the idea of having chemicals in me that I can't remove at any time. I did try the Ring, but it was physically uncomfortable, very expensive, and my doctor pushed it on me, brushing aside my concerns so aggressively that I suspect she'd had a visit from an industry representative.

I am distrustful of the patch (I just know it'll fall off), and until I'm at a point in my life where I feel I could deal with an unintended pregnancy (dealing meaning having the baby instead of aborting it), I don't trust the success rates of the cap, diaphragm, or natural family planning. Condoms are still always a great back-up, but I really do physically prefer sex without them. And, again, because of my ex, I am uncomfortable with the idea of letting my partner control the condom. It's like they tell you with guns: until you have visually and physically checked a gun's chamber, always assume it's loaded. I'm with somebody now that I trust very much to be careful, respectful, and conscientious, but I still feel sometimes like having sex with a condom is taking a blind jump off a cliff. I'm putting my life into somebody else's hands. I'm also nervous about it falling off, getting moved, in a way that neither party can feel at the time.

So the pill is my best option, currently. Sometimes I get very frustrated, because I know there has not, in fact, been a lot of long-term research on the pill. And I resent that the most effective methods out there require women to put chemicals into their bodies. I wish I had another option. I wish my goddamn partner had an option, other than condoms or a vasectomy. I resent to the point of fuming anger sometimes that there is no male pill equivalent, or any other male alternative, when we obviously have the scientific means to do so. I resent that a Western medical structure that only started requiring women to be present in medical studies in the 70s, and that has only just now started to map out the female sexual anatomy, is the same structure that puts chemicals in my body. The Western medical structure knows SO much more about men; they have been the default subject for study. I would trust the medical industry to come up with a safe and effective means of birth control for men far more than I would trust it to do the same for women. But it won't, because it's a woman's job to protect herself (with a bunch of shoddy tools).

And I resent even more that I have led a life that makes me distrustful of men, the same men I want to share the deepest intimacy with, to protect and respect my body as much as I do. That, in the end, I am only comfortable when it is my job, entirely, to protect myself. I don't want to live in a world where sex is antagonistic, where I can open myself in the most vulnerable way while clamping down as hard as I can in another.

What has been the impact of the Pill on your sex life, relationships, political or social attitudes, and beliefs about the medical or pharmaceutical establishments?

I guess I answered that above.

I will say one more thing. Near the end of my marriage, when it was apparent to my husband that I would be leaving him soon, he raped and attempted to impregnate me. I had moved with him to a new city, where I had no job and no health insurance, and was unable to get the pill. At first I tried the same thing, not buying condoms, to keep him from having sex with me. It worked, until I began to talk about moving out, about couples counseling, about "a break." He bought condoms and started having sex with me more often, sex that I never really consented to but never said no; I knew if I said no, he would fuck me anyway, and then it would be rape. So I didn't say no, until I began to pack up boxes and say the word "divorce." I felt that now I could legitimately say no, because now we were broken-up, he didn't own me, I didn't owe him sex.

Instead, he raped me. I considered fighting back, but then thought to myself, if I fight back, then it will be a violent rape. So I won't fight back. First he went for my ass, which we had never done and which I had always expressed a major opposition to. Then, without a condom, he went regular. He said he'd put a condom on soon, then "accidentally" came. He had a very tearful talk with me about if I had to get an abortion, even though we were broken up, he'd be there for me, he'd hold my hand. Oh, and also, sorry for fucking you when you "asked me not to."

I despise the dance I have to do as a woman. If I had taken Norplant, or the IUD, I would not have to worry about the product of rape. And in a country with the statistics we have, every woman has to worry about the product of rape. I despise my inability to access affordable birth control without a job or insurance, forcing me to rely upon a rapist to keep his condom on. I despise that if I had put Norplant or an IUD in my body, and later wanted them out, without health insurance I would be fucked. I cannot control my own body. I have to make compromises about who I let in, what I let in, the lesser evil. Would I rather chemically alter my body, or risk infertility? Would I rather this be a violent rape or just a regular rape? Being a woman in America is pretending these are choices.

And when I make these decisions, I cannot only think about myself, what is good for my body. I have to think about finding a doctor who will prescribe, a pharmacy that will dispense, a medical plan that will allow me to afford it. I have to wonder, if I put an implant in my body now, and show up at a clinic in three years to take it out, what will happen? What if it's been three bad years? What if I'm now on welfare and suddenly look Hispanic? Will they take it out? Will they put something else in? I must make decisions not about my body and what it needs, but balance what I need with what I can get, what others will allow me to have, what others will control, and whether this option will allow me to protect myself from a partner or assailant in the worst case scenario. Rape is a part of my life now. I cannot now consider my future, and my options for birth control, without weighing that possibility.

Do you have opinions about public policies related to access, availability, approval or limitations on the development and distribution of the Pill and related contraceptive products (the patch, the "morning after pill," long-term injections, etc.).

Oh, do I!

Everything should be free or heavily subsidized, and available at all clinics. I would be willing to trade a 24 hour wait law or a modified parental consent law if teens were given free access to all kinds of birth control, and the information they need to use it.

Availability is one massive hurdle. Education is another. We can't have one without the other. And that education has to include men and boys, and it has to include education about society. It's not enough to learn about STDs and how to wear a condom. We should begin sex education with children, and it should begin by teaching children about gender. Taking kids at 16 and telling them all of a sudden, "By the way, you don't have to have sex if you don't want to," means nothing if we haven't taught them for the last 16 years that women and men are equal, that men have no right to intimidate women, that women are under no obligation to require male approval. That neither gender owes each other anything, except respect.

This country doesn't respect women, and it shows, every day, in a myriad of ways. Reproductive rights, or a lack of them, is a blatant trespass against our right to call ourselves humans. A country that upheld a ban with no medical exception is a country that, fundamentally, doesn't care whether I live or die. I have stopped waiting for a shift in administration, a new appointee, a judicial system where I'd have half a chance of reporting marital rape. I have stopped hoping for better options. I cannot help myself from noticing the ways in which I say, it'll get better, if we just wait a little longer, if the right circumstances come along, maybe if we compromise on this we'll get some basic dignity. I cannot help but notice these things because I said them every day in an abusive relationship. That's what my relationship to this country is now. And, as with that relationship, my main goal these days is getting out. Another country, homesteading, something. A country that would rather see me die in childbirth than receive (professional and legal) medical care is a country that can goddamn burn for all I care.

Anything else you think I should know?

Christ, no, I talked too much already.

Thanks for this opportunity to view my story from another lens. I didn't realize I had so much to say.

This week, the lady blogs are upset about UrbanDictionary.com - or, to be more specific, its definitions of "feminist." And they are right! These things are horrible. Yet they are forgetting one very important issue: as it turns out, "feminism" isn't the only thing which inspires rage seizures among the fine gentlemen of Urban Dictionary. It turns out that anything vaguely female-associated is bad.

First, here's "feminist":

A group of smart lesbian thieves who have realized there is money to be made from goverment grants and through tax benifits by falsely distorting statistics and screaming downright lies in the street.Thier HQ can usually be found in any womans abuse shelter.The screaming ones in the streets are just irritating,but beware the horn rimmed glasses,Birkenstock wearing ones who haunt the courts and halls of power,they are the ones who figure out how to bleed mens wallets dry.

A hypocritical woman who doesn't want men to have any rights whatsoever. Feminists do not want to shave their pits or wear bras to prove some point. Now, feminists do not want men checking their tits out, but now wearing a bra is just going to get more attention to that area. Most feminists do not want to be called "offensive" terms such as "babe" or "chick", when men often get called "Dude", "Buddy" and "Hunk" BY women. That is hypocritical. No one likes a hypocrite. Women deserve equal pay and all, but they don't have to hate all men just because they can't do their job as good as a man (in some cases). I think all feminist extremists should suck it up, shave their pits, eat shit and die.

Feminist Woman: "We were created equal to men, therefore they should bow to us and shine our shoes with their tongues while we bitch and moan that they are not doing it right."

To be honest, dude, lots of men aren't that great at shoe-shining. It's about using the flat of the tongue, not just its pointy little tip, which sort of jabs at me and makes me feel uncomfortable. Also, it helps to vary pace and pressure, like, you might try sort of teasing it instead of going in for the kill right away, and... oh, wait. You were talking about actual shoes. I thought you were using a euphemism! I'm sorry.

A beast created by God to enduce pain upon man for eternity. Bleeds for seven whole days and does not die. Can suck the life out of a man to create smaller evil beast to defend them in court and steal man's hard earned money.

Ain't nothing but trouble (to men everywhere at one time or another). Often think guys never pay attention to them, but just as often only notice attention if it's from someone they are currently interested in.

the life support system for a vagina

So that's why it has a respirator! I was wondering about that.

Working on a post on free speech, censorship, art and related issues.

Specifically I want to focus on a couple recent stories that caught my attention. First, I'm reading the Sioux City Journal - I know, nothing major, but it's the only daily within fifty miles of my home, and props to local media! - and I see two articles on audience members at a high school graduation being arrested for cheering and a high school student newspaper being disbanded for covering a flag-burning demonstration. Maybe it's because I just got back from the National Conference for Media Reform , but I'm feeling a little on edge with the blatant censorship. Oh, and in case you were wondering, we in the "lunatic fringe left" were up to no good at NCMR - democracy, justice, and power to the people (not the corporations), pretty devious stuff.

My frustration may also have a lot to do with the recent Feministing post regarding a controversial art exhibit critiquing racism and sexism in media that was shut down by police. As far as that story goes, I concur with several of the commenters that we are really missing the points made by the artist and ultimately disregarding the potential for art to help us think critically and creatively. But clearly there are other important questions to consider.

At any rate, as these recent stories of censorship, which represent quite the opposite from what is necessary for a healthy democracy in a "post-9/11 era," whatever that means (dare we define this point in history outside the framework of American hegemony!), I'm feeling the need to share some ideas about free speech and its importance. I am certainly not an expert on the subject, and there are countless activists, educators, community organizers, revolutionaries, and other amazing people who have said it better than I ever could. I add my two cents simply because, frankly, I don't think we have been listening to those voices.

But first, it's time for this grad student to finish writing about intersections of emotion and reason and the politics of teaching. Pretty rockin, huh? Classes wrapping up soon, new post coming early next week.

Keep on keepin' on, you beautiful people!

Kyle

I just read He's a Stud, She's A Slut: and 49 Other Double Standards Every Woman Should Know. The title is more than a little obvious: I mean, a sexual double standard? I had no idea! Valenti has, however, been open about the fact that the book is aimed at entry-level feminists - gender theory for folks who read He's Just Not That Into You. (It's also fair to note that my alternate title, He's Just Not That Into You Because He's A Douche & Fears Women, would not have sold that many copies.) The mini-essays therein, however, are lots of fun. See this, on the travails of high school:

I was called a slut when I had a boyfriend (even though we weren’t having sex). I was called a slut when I didn’t have a boyfriend and kissed a random boy at a party. I was called a slut when I had the nerve to talk about sex… It seems the word ‘slut’ can be applied to any activity that doesn’t include knitting, praying, or sitting perfectly still lest any sudden movements be deemed whorish.

Also, though there are lots of familiar points here (entry-level, remember), the material is often fresh and fairly challenging. This, perhaps, would be a good time to show you my favorite bit in the book:

When men are quiet, they’re mysterious. When they’re a little sullen, they’re James Dean deep. When women are serious or quiet (or not perpetually chipper, at least), we’re cold bitches… Women aren’t allowed to be quiet or stoic or shy - or, hell, just in a bad mood - without being criticized. Women are bitchy and frigid if we don’t seem accessible at all times, for the most part to men. We’re supposed to be perpetually friendly. Who wants to live up to that?

Now: I own more books on gender than most people will ever need or want to read. I routinely corner people at parties and talk to them about The Man. (I know, I'm sorry - I need to listen to more records.) I also come up against this particular specimen of ugly nearly every day of my life. Yet I honestly never thought about it in this way before. Like I said: neat.

Third wave's genesis was out of its intention was to "correct" the missteps and omissions that plagued the Second Wave of Feminism. Rebecca Walker "outed" herself so to speak for the next generation of feminists by stating, "I am not a post-feminism feminist. I am the third wave." She focused a body of work on intersectionality. The great bell hooks has devoted a life to bringing up from the shadows the cast-aways of Second Wave's successes. Women of color, women of different classes, women of different sexualities, all marginalized by not only white hetero-normative patriarchal society, but even by past feminisms. And yet, even in feminist theory college courses, they are isolated, relegated to the "fringes" of mainstream feminist ideology, under section headings as "Black feminism" or "Queer feminism," as if to say "that is not for us to learn, that is for them."

More and more I see bookshelves and articles filled with "sex-positive" feminist thought, with "everyday guides for the everyday woman." The blogs I read....feministing.com in particular are focused on double standards in sexual or officer-related power play, or 30-second YouTube clips of how another news pundit has insulted Hillary Clinton. Although the context of Second Wave to Third has changed from housewife to empowered young professional, I still can't shake the feeling that the content of the argument hasn't shifted enough.

 It seems to me still mostly directed at affluent straight white women.

Let me make 2 things very clear:

1. There are without a doubt a good amount of people already doing incredible work for feminism in such a way (WOC, queer, international, classism, etc). But my point is that, with exceptions for people such as bell hooks, their work isn't at the forefront like it should be. It is pushed to the back of shelves in bookstores, and linked to infrequently on the "blogosphere". There's a reason that Feministing is the #1 feminist blog. Maybe it's the snazzy color scheme, the icon of an ideally sexy female silhouette-- and while I do find the blog to be worthwhile, fun, and informative, I do think in a lot of ways they have traded substance for sassy style. More on that later, and this isn't true for all the bloggers (Samhita, for one), it's something I've felt for a while now, and was finally able to verbalize. (can you say verbalize on a blog post? oops!)

2. I am NOT trying to suggest that sexism against Hillary Clinton or whomever is unimportant. I strongly believe that it should be part of the dialogue and that what affects some in a way affects us all. But I can't accept that it should be the focus or that white affluent women have little to say about others. If this is true, third wave is going to sorely disappoint.

So, this is just a VERY long way of saying that I've been dissatisfied with what I've seen, and have thus decided to create a blog of my own. (yes, that is a reference to you, Ms. Woolf). I don't profess to be an expert on anything, but I do want to add one more woman's voice to the conversation, hopefully in a constructive and inclusive way. So that this white woman can help to add to the voices of so many brave other woman, so that there may be a feminism for us all.

 “These women together ought to be able to turn it back .”

So you know, this is the personal blog I use to aggregate my favorite links and my writing on new media. I also occasionally put up posts here from my day job writing at TPMCafe and running the TPM blog network. Also, I post a lot of videos from Jay Smooth.

In any event, the quote from Jay Smooth that is my gchat away message:

“When we find ourselves believing that killing a man makes us more of a man, but loving a man makes us less of a man, it’s probably time to reexamine our criteria for manhood.”

And the vid:

Basically, the story is that a young woman at Mercer University in Macon, Melanie Ross, briefly dated a young man on campus named Daniel Day. During their relationship he was sexually violent with her and she ended it and began avoiding him around campus. Then one night she ran in to him at a party, and he allegedly drugged her drink, attacked her, and raped her.

When she awoke the nest day, her rear end was hurting and she received medical treatment. Although the rape drug caused Ms. Ross to black out, witnesses described Mr. Day handing Ms. Ross a drink, taking her cell phone away, and dragging her into his fraternity house. The rape kit done on Ms. Ross showed redness, bruising, and anal tearing. The medical professional who completed the tests said that Melanie Ross had been anally raped.

But when Melanie Ross took called the Mercer campus police, they failed to take any action (not surprising considering that Day's family are major funders of Mercer University). So Ms. Ross filed a civil suit against Daniel Day, hoping to be able to state her case before a jury of her peers.

Unfortunately, Judge Phillip Brown dismissed Ross' claims because her bruises could have come "with a bump into furniture or from other causes." The judge dismissed the laceration evidence from the rape kit as having come from a shaving incident, although the victim denies shaving her anus. Brown stated, "There's no witnesses in there. There was no evidence. It's a closed door. And there's no possibility that there could be any proof that there was rape...."

So this asshat judge ordered Ross to pay Day's court costs and attorney's fees, totaling- get this- $150,000. And not only that, but he humiliated Ross by forcing her to reveal her dating history and history of sexual contact; this despite Georgia (criminal, at least) rape shield laws that are meant to protect sexual assault victims from having to discuss any previous sexual partners. It is a classic case of victim-blaming and the rich WASP playing the good-ole-boy system and winning. But Ms. Ross and her attorney, Amanda Farahany of Barrett and Farahany, LLP, have appealed the matter to the Supreme Court of Georgia and are hoping for a fairer ruling there.

By the way, Daniel Day is the son of Georgia Representative Burke Day (R), of the Day's Inn hotel chain (now affiliated with Wyndham). And do you think this has anything to do with the judge's ruling? Nah. I'm sure it doesn't.

Judge Brown has discouraged other sexual assault victims from coming forward for fear of having to pay outrageous attorney's fees and court costs, being humiliated in court by having to disclose their private sexual pasts, and being raked over the coals for not remembering the details of the alleged incident due to being drugged by their attackers (or for any other reason!). I am appalled (although not really surprised) that this is happening in the state of Georgia and we need to do something about this.

Let's contact the local media to spotlight this grave injustice and contact the state bar association to register complaints about Judge Brown.

Read more about this case here, here, and here.

For more information, contact Melanie Ross's attorney, Amanda Farahany, at Barrett and Farahany, LLP.