feminist

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…

So I’ve been 100% and completely out with who I am for the past year. By that I mean, I’m not scared to dress the way I want to dress, to have hair that isn’t normal for a woman (I have a Mohawk at the moment) and to just not be scared to hold a girls hand in public.

That being said, I’ve never honestly faced any scrutiny or harassment for any of that.

Sometimes I get some stares for the way my hair is, most the time I just get people who want to take photos of me to which I oblige, because hey its giving some tourist a story to tell about their trip to Seattle.

Recently however, I’ve noticed a change in where I live. We have a gay part of town, more of it’s just a place where anyone can go and not worry about being harassed. It’s a great place. It’s the place I hang out the most. But recently things have been changing. We’ve had multiple gay bashings. One where the guy was literally dragged from a car down the street and just other beatings for no reason other then someone’s sexual orientation.

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.

A lot of people have been asking me to to write up why I decided to get my tattoo, The meaning behind it, The questions I’ve gotten from it, Why I chose the location I did for it and such. So I decided I’d go ahead and write up a photo essay about my choice.

First off this is my tattoo (Click here) I’m assuming all of you shall know what it is but for those few who read this and don’t It is the symbol for being a feminist.

I knew I wanted a tattoo, I’ve wanted one since I was a child even before I really knew what a tattoo was, I knew that having stuff drawn on my skin intrigued me and I always saw it as having a work of art on you forever. So I basically started counting down the days tell I would turn 18 and finally the day came.

This is my first blog here and i'm really excited for the opportunity to be apart of AGA.

When I found out I was going to be a blogger here I started contemplating what I should write about first, so I figured the best thing is for me to dig into who I am right now and when I realized I was feminist. I’m warning you right now this is a long post because honestly it’s hard to describe who I am in a short sentence, mainly because I’m a rambler. So my apologies right now for how long it is and I promise the next blog wont be like this. Anyway were going to commute around my life growing up to where my life is now and what issues are affecting me now and what type of activism I do. So buckle up, and close your eyes cause here comes my life story. (Don’t really close your eyes, because then you couldn’t read this unless you had some insane power that allowed you to read with your eyes closed or could read brail on the keyboard and if so that’s insanely rad.)

I moved into an “intentional community” this year at the beginning of May. I like to call it the hippiehouse, although it’s technically two houses. There are about eight or nine people living here, give or take- and all are focused on progressive, activist issues. It’s a very positive environment to be in.

It makes me feel as if I’m not so alone in wanting change. It was a similar feeling that I got when last year I went to a huge anti-war protest on the Mall. It was knowing that other people “got” what I was so upset about- they understood why I thought things were wrong. Not only did they understand- they agreed with me.

A few of my feminist idols that you may (or may not) have heard of…

Ama Ata Aidoo; Ghanaian author; always mindful of what it means to be both African and female; true inspiration for those of us who carry both of those labels proudly.

Alice Walker; feminist, environmentalist, civil rights and gay activist… enough said.

Ruth Hughes; one of many inspiring English teachers that I have had, the first one to tell me that even today, women are paid more than 30% less than men in the same workplace.

Ulle Lewes; One of my college professors, always something original and inspiring to say, always sharp, always funny, always so knowledgeable.

Like all realist I know there is no such thing as a Utopia, least of all a feminist kind. Every feminist I have ever met has had a different viewpoint and different definition of what feminism is or should be. Many of them have disagreed and even been offended by my comments in other places. There are so many different kinds of feminist and even though I may disagree with some of them, I think that's what makes the feminist movement and women interesting. To that effect, my hope is that despite our differences in lifestyles, choices and opinions we can all come together as one to achieve common goals.

Ladies, Men, Bois, and Grrrls,

I think a proper introduction is in order. I’m hoping that this is only the first of hundreds of posts that you’ll read from me, so let me tell you where I’m coming from, first, and then in future posts I’ll tell you where I’m at.

My name is Andrea. I grew up in a small Texas suburb with an older sister, numerous cats, a stay at home mom, and (consequently) an at-work dad. Overachievement was explored in elementary school, rebellion was explored in middle school, and high school was the time when I fully realized the value of education.

It was my middle school rebellion-stage that led me to Feminism. Middle School is always described as a tough time for everybody…I’d argue that I had it tougher than most, but maybe that’s not true. I think everybody should have their own healthy revolution in middle school. Mine came in the form of what people deemed a boy haircut, a cheap guitar and an affinity for sewing. Appaaaarently I was the only one that thought my new look was awesome, though. If there’s anything I can tell you about middle school, it’s that those kids are ruthless. I remember this one time, some chubby boy cut infront of me at the vending machine, and justified it because he “Grew up in fashion, and I obviously didn’t.” Whatever, dude.