feminism

This last weekend marked the end (finally) of the Rugby season in my village. I look forward to that every year, as I work in the local bar, and do get tired of the drunken idiots from the rugby club pinching my butt as I work and urinating on our door. On Saturday night the local rugby club had their annual prize giving at our bar as we sponsor their club. I had to work, much to my disgrace, but cash is not exactly flying into my wallet these days, so of course I agreed.

About half way through the evening, most of the wives/girlfriends of the guys at the event had drifted away from the drunken crowd of men and were leaning on the bar chatting to the four of us who were working. We were all pretty unenthusiastic about the event and it was when one of the women mentioned that it might be nice if the women who attended the damn thing were actually included and spoken to, that I asked why we don’t actually have any Women’s sports teams in our village, other than one Netball team, and why don’t we have a women’s rugby team, soccer team, cricket team, when there were so many men’s sports teams playing for our village each week. Most of the Women sitting at the bar laughed loudly and wished me good luck with that one, as most of the time we are barely allowed to stand on the sidelines let alone participate and actually play. But a few of the younger gals expressed interest in being able to play some sort of sport.

Today is the first day of my new course. I have decided to study to be a nurse; I have decided that New Zealand really is not the place for me. I have family here, friends here, but I miss the brand new life which I carefully sculpted, spent a year doing so, a brand new family full of people who I adore as though we all have the same blood running through our veins, a happy life in Canada. I miss my life there, so much that at times since I have been back in New Zealand, I feel as though maybe I left my voice at Vancouver airport and I don’t know how to get it back without returning.

Upon returning I also discovered something about myself which I don’t think I ever would have if I had not escaped my life here for that whole year, if I had not had that year of safety. And that is that I am capable of changing my own life no matter what or who is standing right in the middle of my path. I was a feminist before I left New Zealand, I have read the books, I had very strong feelings and thoughts and opinions on such things, but I feel that now that I have really used my own strength as a woman to stand up and say enough. Walk out on everything I had ever known because I am better than that, I really truly understand what Feminism means to me, what it is.

Sorry I haven't posted for the longest time, and I'm definitely going to make up for it. For instance, from a recent Newsweek article about pregnant surrogates:

"many conservative Christians decry the practice as tampering with the miracle of life, while far-left feminists liken gestational carriers to prostitutes who degrade themselves by renting out their bodies."

What? I have literally never heard that once in my years (admittedly few, but whatever) as a feminist. Of course, there were no sources to accompany this bold statement. On examining the statement, I found that the only source to really condemn the practice was an old edition of OBOS. And we all know that the Boston's Women Health Book Collective, while a group that I am immensely grateful for and respect deeply, certainly does not speak for all feminists.

Woah, When was the last time I stopped by?

Fired!

Anyway. Ended up moving in with an ex boyfriend turned roomate. Bad situation which I do not recomend. He was never even home at that. So I had the place mostly to myself.

Ladies. I cannot stress this enough. Every time someone tells you a story. (In this case about some insane violent tenancies) If during said story you think to yourself, "Man, I hope that never turns out to be me." Chances are that is your inner voice tell you to get the frick out.

So having a threat made on my life for no apparent reason by a man who's clearly off his rocker and I never really even wanted to date in the first place I got the heck out of there. I am now living with a butch lesbian who's so awesome I don't want her to move away when she might. Not having a terrible living situation is kind of new to me. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself.

I've been getting really into spoken word lately, So heres one of my new pieces. And I hope you enjoy it.

YR Gender Binary Roles:

YR gender binary roles, they control me like no other, just because I have a vagina doesn’t mean I should be a mother. It’s like the moment I stand up, and I shout my beliefs from the rooftops. YR first response isn’t listening to what I have to say. It’s putting me down, Figuring out some reason for you not to listen, for YR ears not to hear me, for YR heart not to feel me. But that isn’t going to happen anymore….Nah….. .Its time to open up, for YR heart to really feel me…Cause I know who I am. And as bell hooks said “Aint I a woman?!” and my response is for sure I am a WOMYN, That is with a Y instead of a E to the N....and I am my own beautiful human being. And this womyn is proud to be a womyn. But not proud to be put in a place where YR gender roles say I should stay. You say I should stay in the kitchen; I should cook, clean and take care of the kids. Well all I can say is fuck YR ways. I will choose to do what I want, and be who I want. Don’t stereotype me and throw me in the kitchen because I am a womyn. Let me be who I am and choose where I stay….Let my soul and creative being be whatever the energy wants me to be. YR ways, And YR thoughts need to be changed. Change YR mind and frame, and listen to me. Believe for once that it doesn’t matter that I have a vagina or breast…Believe…What matters is what I am saying, what you are saying, what this world is saying. The gender of one, the orientation or the race of one, has no matter in any thing we say, our speech or our words should be allowed to flow…. Flow through the pen as I write this down, free from hate or judgment that is just based on the author’s sex. Lets let everyone be free to be, who they choose to be…

At the supermarket today, I grabbed my favorite magazines off the rack- a terrible habit of mine, considering the money I would save by subscribing. Pausing between Seventeen and Newsweek, I realized how amusing and nearly contradictory it is to be a teenage feminist.

Even for all of the books on my shelves marked "Women's Studies," I am still 15. And that means that in order to survive the oppressive society known as high school, I have to be a member of the patriarchy, just like Guy Montag in the oppressive society of Farenheit 451. Always questioning, but unquestionably in line with the group.

So here I am sitting on the ferry,
I'm super tired and I just got off from work from NARAL (which has my feminist blood pumping and fully pissed off at how little rights we have) and some guy sits behind me and then his friends join him. I tend to listen in to peoples conversations, I see nothing wrong with this. But this guys conversation just made me mad.

It went like this "Oh you know *name withheld* just got out of jail again" says Jerk #1....His buddy responds "For what?"...Jerk #1 responds with "domestic violence....But she deserved it she was a bitch..." Says the jerk # 1....They both laugh....Cause obviously a woman getting beat is nothing but shits and giggles for them. Then the buddy says "wasn't she black anyway?" and Jerk #1 says "yeah" and they laugh more.

I still remember when I finally bubbled over with anger, feminism, and activism. It came out in a blog post in December of the 8th grade, where I condemned the use of the word 'slut', among other things. My friends and acquaintances paid attention. It generated 26 comments and began my personal revolution.

As I began writing more blogs, all frankly expressing my opinion, Julie began to talk to me. She expressed that wide-eyed disbelief of a new feminist at how gender biased the world could be. She had converted, and this, more than anything, made my political agitating worthwhile. The idea that I had made a personal difference in someone's beliefs was incredible, and it was by Julie's persuasion that Feminisme was born.

Me, my mother, and her boyfriend had a very long conversation about cutting and suicide. To give you some background, two friends of mine seriously cut before and my best friend cut a little. Mom's BF's brother committed suicide several years back. It's a topic that I have a bit of a morbid interest in.

The thing I don't get is this huge stigma. In North America, if you cut, or try to kill yourself, there's this huge condemnation thing going on. Reading through some memoirs about cutting, or suicide, I notice so many of them say 'it's such a bad thing to do, I can't believe anyone would ever go through with it' et cetera. People literally act as if suicide is some Satanic thing to do, and the same with cutting.

About a year ago, when I first signed up with the AGA, I left a blank where I was asked to list my feminist heros. Now that I've spent some time actively participating in the feminist community, there are a few names I'd feel comfortable putting in that blank. One of them is that of Alice Schwarzer. Earlier tonight, I went to see her read from her new book, 'Die Antwort' (The Answer).

The first thing that I noticed when I got there was the demographics. I admit it, I expected a lot of dreadlocks, earth tones and Birkenstocks. Instead, the average audience member was in their 50s and sporting conservative dress. My age group was the minority, rivaling for most under-represented only with males. But if I felt a bit alien, the feeling was lifted as soon as the lights went out and a representative from the bookstore came on stage.

http://www.alternet.org/sex/51408/

Well, IS stripping feminism?

The article above asserts that it is, because the money earned from it helps women economically achieve equality to men.

True. But the question is, must we give up one principle of equality for another? Let's not forget that feminism is striving towards political, economical, and social justice. Do we have to give up the idea of social (i.e. sexual) equality in the name of advancing economic equilibrium?

And it isn't as if women are even the major profiteers of sex work anyway. Behind every whore is the pimp, and behind every stripper on the pole is the manager of the bar.

I wanted to write a post to explain why I've been so quiet and to explain what I've been struggling with, but I am too conflicted about the situation to even manage to put it into words.

My ex-boyfriend is re-entering my life, and though everyone I respect and whose judgement I trust is telling me that he's a Really Bad Idea, I'm finding that I am still in love with him.

I'm feeling like the lousiest feminist on earth right now. And no matter what I decide, I need to figure out how I can reconcile all of this inside of me.

I'm sorry.

I don't tend to watch a whole lot of TV most of all because I just don’t have that much time or attention for it, and most of the time when I turn it on there is something there that will trigger me so I tend to just avoid it as much as I can. But the other night while trying to wind down after work, I saw a show on TV that has been running in New Zealand for the last few weeks. It is a documentary on the difference's between the sexes, I started to pay some attention to it at the beginning but was not surprised to find that it was nothing really informative or interesting, but was mostly just the stereotypical "differences" such as women love to shop and men love to drink beer.

This is my late Earth Day post, because I had to make one and I got delayed. (Be forewarned. The Earth Day bit is long and at the end of an even longer entry about my weekend.

Let me tell you about my weekend:

On Friday I had a P.A. Day. Due to something last week I would rather not go into, I had a meeting with a hospital psychiatrist. It went over well; in the end, boring, and they wanted me to see them again this week-I don't want to, so the offer has been declined.

Then we met up with my Nan. Let me tell you a bit about nan, although I have before. It bears repeating that she is one of the most amazing women I know. Heck, she might be the most amazing. Nan survived something awful at age eleven, with no details. Before that, when she was eight, she moved from Germany to Canada.

When Don Imus, a popular radio shock-jock host, called the Rutgers women's basketball team "nappy-headed hos", did they wave it off?

Absolutely not. They fought his racism and sexism tooth and nail because it was unacceptable- specifically, "racist and sexist remarks that are deplorable, despicable and unconscionable," according to their coach, a black woman herself. Advertisers began to pull out of the show, and finally, both of his major hosts have fired him.

I find it rather ironic that while men's college basketball has recently been a celebrated event during March Madness, a women's team plays and enjoys great success as athletes and gets put down as "nappy-headed hos." As if those comments had anything to do with their achievements on the court or how they played the game. One of the players, Heather Zurich, felt vindicated of their athletic victory and said, "We were stripped of this moment by the degrading comments made by Mr. Imus. My team did nothing to deserve Mr. Imus’s, nor Mr. McGuirk’s , deplorable comments."