You don't own me. I don't own you.
My body is mine. Your body is yours.
My physical space is mine, and your physical space is yours, unless we invite one another in and respect the boundaries while there.
The spaces we build—physical spaces like house, and conceptual spaces like home, and virtual spaces, and the spaces in which friendships and allegiances and romantic love may be forged—are our own, except where they are communally built.
I don't owe you explanations for my choices that do not affect you, and you don't owe any to me.
I don't owe you a presentation of my self, a reflection of my identity, a conformance to arbitrarily defined norms or archetypes, an emotional response, or a facial expression to make you comfortable. You do not owe me any of these things.
If you want me to smile, don't tell me to smile. Just give me something to smile about.
Feminism 101: On Owning and Owing
Number of the Day
[Content Note: Sexual violence.]
17.3: The percentage of young women in grades 9 through 12 who have been raped in Indiana, which has the highest rate of sexual violence in the nation.
In Indiana, girls have a higher chance of becoming the victim of sexual assault than almost any other place in the country.Welcome to Indiana, where rape against girls is so prevalent that it shocks even people who are experts in sex and crimes of sexual violence.
As WBBM Newsradio's Michele Fiore reports, 10.5 percent of all American high school-age girls have been forced into sexual intercourse, according to a report by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
But the rate vastly exceeds the national average in Indiana, where 17.3 percent of girls in grades 9 through 12 have been raped.
Kinsey Institute Director for Research in Sex, Gender and Reproduction Julie Heiman told the Bloomington, Ind., Herald-Times that she was "shocked" at the statistics.
The Herald-Times also pointed out that researching the issue is a challenge, given that up to 50 percent of sexual assaults against women are never reported, and Indiana is one of three states – along with Mississippi and New Mexico – where law enforcement is not required to report sexual violence to the FBI.And where, at least in my personal experience, mandated reporting of sexual violence against female students is treated more like a suggestion than a responsibility.
I will also note that Indiana leads the nation in abortion restrictions. That's relevant, of course, because some of those many rapes will result in pregnancies, but, less obviously, it's also relevant because it underlines that Indiana is a state that is hostile to women, to female autonomy, to female agency, and to the concept of consent.
It is not a coincidence that the state with the highest number of restrictions on a legal medical procedure accessed exclusively by women and other people with uteri is also the state with the highest rate of rape against young women. Both are the inevitable result of systemic indifference to the basic feminist principle of trusting women to make the best decisions for themselves and then respecting those decisions.
There is flatly not meaningful equality for women in Indiana.
This is so the worst thing you're going to read all day.
[Content Note: Rape culture; rape jokes.]
Another tiresome article about whether rape jokes are funny, giving lots of space to women who say they are and complain that criticizing rape jokes is asking survivors who process with humor to not process their assaults.
I've said pretty much everything I've got to say on this exhausting subject here, although I will underline once again that I am a survivor who finds value in processing via humor. I just also happen to be a survivor who understands and respects that not all survivors do—and that even those who do don't necessarily want to stumble across rape humor, even if it's another survivor working through her shit.
Which means I'm a survivor that understands the value of a closed group and a public space. I have friends, some of them also survivors, with whom I can safely make rape jokes (of the sort where the punchline is that rape is horrible and rapists are gross) and they can make them to me. In private. Within the safety and trust that comes with the intimacy of friendship.
Someone who argues against public rape jokes isn't telling me I can't process that way. They're not stopping me from doing what I need to do. And I don't feel the slightest bit limited in my ability to explore whatever dark shit I need to explore because I restrict my gallows humor to spaces where I know it isn't going to harm anyone.
In the age of social media, the boundaries between private and public are ever blurred, and I certainly think this is part of why rape jokes are proliferating at this particular time. But during an election year in which lack of agency and consent are central to virtually every major policy issue, the gravity of public rape jokes should be evident.
If one supports reproductive choice, if one supports ending foreign wars, if one supports closing Gitmo, if one supports rescinding invasive TSA policies, if one supports same-sex marriage, if one supports trans* protections, if one supports immigration reform, if one supports prison reform, if one supports environmental policies that don't harm local residents, if one supports universal healthcare, or any one of hundreds of other issues that are predicated on respecting other human bodies and choices, one needs to rigorously uphold consent, agency, and bodily autonomy in all arenas. The end.
Because the issue is not really whether rape jokes or funny. The issue is whether they're dangerous. And they are.
Why I'm Pro-Choice, and My Boyfriend Is, Too
by Shaker BrianWS, who may or may not become a full-time contributor someday based on a swirling purple vortex of glittery keys only one of which fits into two crumbling locks, one of which opens a door to Shakesville, and the other of which opens a door to a rip in the time-space continuum beyond which is either a parallel universe or a Malkovichian hole into Rick Santorum's brainpan.
[Content Note: Anti-choice views on reproductive rights; disrespect for autonomy and consent.]
I will never need an abortion. It's a fact of my life as a cis gay man in a relationship with another cis gay man, but being fervently pro-choice is very important to me, and it's also very important to me that I found a partner who shares that belief.
I'm pro-choice not only for the women in my life who have had abortions or who one day may need to terminate a pregnancy, but because I've found that a person's view on abortion rights is a really great test to determine how someone feels about bodily autonomy as a whole—and, to that end, what kind of autonomy over my own body I can expect when dealing with that person.
When I was single last summer before meeting my current boyfriend, I had a profile on OkCupid, and one day received a message from a guy who quickly identified himself as a conservative supporter of Ron Paul.
I don't like Ron Paul one bit, so I was hesitant but curious. Knowing what I know now, I have no problem saying that if that happened to me today, there never would've been drinks or dinner or anything. But it didn't happen today.
We often hear, even from people presumed to be liberal allies, about how "both sides are just as bad," and we're trained by the media to think that every opinion is equally worth being heard, and even this progressive feminist was not immune to having internalized those messages.
"If I don't go out with him just because of his politics, then I'd be an asshole," I thought, and I decided to go out and meet him.
I figured that we could have a good time just hanging out and letting it be casual regardless of political affiliation. That worked for a few dates. We didn't much discuss politics, including abortion, although I knew his position, and I found myself actually enjoying his company.
"I'm the next James Carville!" I excitedly told myself, feeling a slight, and now embarrassing, sense of smugness for having been "big enough" to enjoy his company without agreeing with his political views. In doing so, however, I was hiding a huge part of who I am, and a huge part of what I believe to be true and important in this world, just to be able to say I managed to navigate that political divide.
We did that dance for about a month, sharing drinks, movies, dinners, and games about every other day, all while both trying our best to ignore the giant whirring abortion machine in the room.
That's when the wheels came flying off. We were invited to a Pride party at his ex's apartment overlooking the parade route, and we were excited to go to that together. There were plenty of drinks, plenty of amazing new friends to meet, and I was having a great day. We were both worried initially that his ex might be weird about me being there, but it turned out that his ex and I hit it off immediately.
He and I were, in fact, on the back deck, chatting, laughing, and generally having a great day, when another one of the party's hosts came up to me and said, "You might want to go talk to your date; he's really upset right now."
"Why?!" I asked. It was a great day with great company, and nothing seemed like it could go wrong. I went to look for him, to find that he had angrily stormed out of the party. I texted him to find out what was wrong, and it was then that his adherence to a strict conservative ideology became the problem that, deep inside, I always knew it was going to be someday, sooner than later.
He was angry that I was socializing with his ex, and told me that I had humiliated him by being friendly with his ex. Naturally, this made no sense to me—after all, we had accepted an invitation to a party at his ex's house, and learned that our earlier worries about it being uncomfortable were completely unfounded. So unfounded, in fact, that his ex and I were able to act like adults who had never met one another, treat each other with respect, and find out that we actually had a lot in common and enjoyed talking to one another.
The only one who found the situation uncomfortable was the guy I was seeing—the guy who had put us into this position in the first place. I felt a ton of pressure going over to his ex's house that day; it's not easy to be the "new guy" in a tight-knit group of friends when an ex is included. The fact that it wasn't the weirdest day my date and I had ever spent together should have been a huge victory.
Instead, it turned ugly.
He had wanted me to go to this party with him at a place that could have been very uncomfortable for me, and I had made the best of it. He didn't want me to make the best of it for me, though—he wanted me to make the best of it for him. And I had failed to behave as he had desired for me to behave.
As the night wore on, he continued to berate me via text messages and phone calls. He policed my behavior in exacting detail, slut-shamed me for being friendly with his ex, belligerently screamed at me, plainly and simply commanding me to be something more like what he wanted, rather than who I actually am, and to make the choices he wanted me to make, rather than the choices that were right for me.
So clueless, he then demanded that I spend the night at his apartment. I felt afraid, and I felt unsafe. I left and never saw him again.
In the end, it should have come as little surprise to me that he would show his hand like that at some point. But it wasn't until he actually tried to claim what he thought was his right to control my body and my actions that I actually let it all sink in.
And when it was done sinking in, I was left with this: Fuck. That.
Sure, this could have been the jerk behavior of anyone with any political ideology, but I am left with the thought that true belief in rigid conservative anti-choice ideology presents a fundamental problem for those desirous of an egalitarian relationship. The anti-choice position is rooted in a desire to control women's bodies, restrict their ability to act as individuals, and to police their behavior. If my date thinks that control over a woman's body is his right, what guarantee do I have that he would ever think any differently about MY body?
There's an undeniable connection between views on abortion rights and views on bodily autonomy as a whole, and that's why gay men need to care about abortion rights. The same people who will work tirelessly to restrict women's autonomy over their own bodies and choices won't hesitate for a moment to tear mine away, too.
The only body that an anti-choice conservative thinks shouldn't be controlled is his (or her) own.
Being pro-choice means respecting the autonomy of women and other people with uteri over their own bodies, full-stop. There is no halfway. There are no, "...but" qualifiers. You either do—or you don't.
It's not about babies, or whatever other bullshit anti-choicers say to try to pretend that it's about anything other than controlling and policing women's bodies—experience tells me that assholes with rigid anti-choice ideologies based around controlling other people's bodies aren't likely to ever consider exceptions to that rule for me and my body just because I don't have a uterus.
Today in Fat Hatred
[Trigger warning for fat hatred, eliminationism, body policing.]
In case anyone was still under the impression that fat hatred in this country is not explicitly eliminationist, Shaker NobleExperiments sends along this article which reports: "According to South Florida's Sun Sentinel, 15 of 105 OB/GYN practices in the area have created weight limits for new patients starting at 200 pounds." The author notes that "having to shed pounds to get an appointment with a gynecologist is preposterous," but it is not merely preposterous: To deny potentially life-saving healthcare, like routine cancer screening, to women because they are fat will literally condemn some of them to death.
Fifteen out of 105 might not seem like a huge number, but, in the US, a country without socialized medicine, you're shit outta luck if your health insurance provider's in-network docs fall in that fat-hating fifteen (unless you can afford to pay out-of-pocket for healthcare). There is, for example, exactly one in-network OB/GYN in my town to which I can go. The next closest is a half-hour drive away.
Meanwhile, Shaker InfamousQBert forwards this story about a British doctor who "gives overweight moms-to-be diabetes drug to slim their unborn babies." Awesome. Great idea, I'm sure.
In better fat-related news, Shaker Kim forwards this piece by Lesley Kinzel about the power of saying no. Which is not only true like a true thing with lots of little true bits all over it, but also underlines once again how the concepts of consent, autonomy, respect, and dignity run through every flavor of social justice in inextricable ways.
On Birtherism
I am both fascinated and horrified by the obsessive fixation on birth details captivating large swaths of this country right now, and the fact that it's taking hold against the backdrop of a national assault on reproductive rights. Both firmly rooted in cultural habits of treating as public property and policing female bodies, the movements are evidence of lingering, endemic naked hostility to female self-ownership and privacy.
The Obama Birtherism is ostensibly about Barack Obama and his father, about whether he was born outside of the US and whether he is a de facto Muslim by virtue of his father's heritage. (Or, sometimes, because of his step-father's heritage.) His mother is rarely mentioned—except, of course, when she is described by conservative birthers with dog whistles mentioning her race (white) in combination with her "free-spiritedness" (miscegenist). Always underlying the Obama birther theories is a tacit condemnation of the reproductive (and relationship) choices of his mother, Ann Dunham.
More pointedly, the Trig Birtherism is about Sarah Palin, and the assertion that Trig Palin, her youngest son, is not hers at all. The Trig birthers speculate that Trig was actually Bristol's son, or someone else's altogether, that Palin's pregnancy was staged, that the publicly stated circumstances of Trig's birth are a hoax. Trig Birtherism is a particularly strange pursuit, because, were the Trig birthers inconceivably proved right, what we would learn is that Sarah Palin is a liar. Which we already know.
And, frankly, if it turned out that Palin had, like many women before her, lied about her grandson being her son, it would be the least objectionable lie she has ever told.
But the irresistible appeal of Trig Birtherism is that, unlike lies about policy and transparency and nepotism and governance, which actually speak to Palin's fitness for a job in public office, Trig Birtherism provides the opportunity and justification for languorous, meticulous, and non-consensual investigation of a woman's body and holds out the salacious reward of forcing a woman to make public reproductive information that is no one's fucking business.
Trig Birtherism got a new surge of momentum last week with the publication of a paper called "Palin, the Press, and the Fake Pregnancy Rumor: Did a Spiral of Silence Shut Down the Story?" by Bradford Scharlott, an associate professor at Northern Kentucky University. Writing about the paper for Business Insider (because his piece was rejected by HuffPo for not meeting their journalistic standards), Geoffrey Dunn argues, "the American media should demand that Palin produce full and conclusive evidence of Trig's birth and parentage. It's that simple."
One wonders what on earth would constitute "full and conclusive evidence of Trig's birth and parentage," short of closed-circuit video coverage from Palin's vagina of the conception, gestation, and birth. (FAKE! HOW DO KNOW THAT'S HER VAGINA?!)
Of course it matters that Palin lies; it just doesn't matter if she lied about this—especially not when we've already got demonstrable evidence of lies that materially affect the public interest, that have already underscored, again and again, her manifest unsuitability to hold national office.
Birtherism, in which both conservatives and liberals are engaging, is a terrible and intrinsically misogynist game to play, entirely dependent on a belief that policing women's bodies and reproduction is an acceptable recreation. And, further yet, reviving old tropes about "legitimacy" at a time when single parenthood is rising and national leaders want to draw reprehensible distinctions between those who deserve social services, like young men who lost their fathers, and those who don't, like children who had the terrible judgment to be born into poverty to single mothers.
Everything about the birther game feeds narratives that Other and narratives that support the institutional misogyny that underlies the anti-choice movement. Everything about it serves the interests of those who want to limit choice, and those who want to marginalize women and the children they birth/raise who aren't born in the "right" circumstances. There is nothing about the birther game that serves a decent purpose, and certainly nothing that advances women's agency or autonomy.
We are in the midst of a profound and vicious anti-feminist backlash in this nation, and to get past it, we must start with a zero tolerance policy for body and reproductive policing.
[Note: I am aware of the self-evidently despicable Wonkette piece about Trig; I'm not personally interested in giving that garbage any more attention. That is off-topic for this thread, which is about the relationship between the birther and anti-choice movements.]
Thoughts on Internet Dating; Or, a Series of Unfortunate Cultural Narratives
by Shaker and Shakesville Moderator Aphra_Behn
(Please note that in this analysis, I only speak to my experiences with male-identified people seeking me out as a female-identified person. It should also be noted that Internet dating sites are bastions of various sorts of privilege: classism, sizeism, ableism, heterocentricism, racism, and more.)
On this Valentine's Day, as the media's message turns to a variety of craptastic narratives about love and romance, I find myself casting my mind back to a dark and stormy night not too long ago. That tempestuous evening, I received a message from a Gentleman Emailer, in response to my posting on Popular Internet Dating Site.
This, my first and only message from said GE, consisted of:
1. SUBJECT: Greeting! Assertion of our inevitable romantic destiny!
2. Revelation of previous disastrous romantic fate online.
3. Wish to be in love with me!
4. Expression of love for my [body part]!
5. Phone number, with conditional instructions to call it.
6. New assertion of our inevitable romantic destiny!
7. Proverbial saying about love.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the Gentleman Emailer expected to inspire romance via this missive. Yet, curiously, "feeling romanced" was not my reaction.
My reaction was more along the lines of: hide! under covers! on the fainting couch! for about the next century.
Reader, I would like to tell you that this was a singular occurrence. It was not.
Overall, my exchanges with Gentleman Emailers have been enjoyable. Our periods of correspondence frequently turn into tea-palace excursions or evenings waltzing at the dance hall. I have made a number of friends, and in general, quite enjoy dating. But if we lay aside those pleasant emails that result in actual conversations, and speak to emails in the "first and only" category, some remarkably similar patterns emerge.
I have come to the conclusion that some men on Popular Internet Dating Site are tragic victims of A Series of Unfortunate Cultural Narratives. Found in romantic comedies, popular music, advertising, and just about every other media of modern life, these Unfortunate Cultural Narratives consistently prove themselves to be remarkably poor guides in real life.
(Note: Among their other garbage, these Unfortunate Cultural Narratives assume that all humans are straight, sexual, and cisgendered. That is rubbish. With said detritus duly noted, let us sally forth.)
Unfortunate Cultural Narrative # 1: Women exist primarily (or solely) as potentially pleasing bodies, and men cannot control their responses to those bodies.
Sample Email Expression: Your [body part] is so [overwhelmingly positive adjective!] I don't think I can stop myself from [action]!
Reaction: This has landed in my inbox so often that I checked to make sure my profile hadn't been haxXx0red by ancient Greek Sirens, whose magically delicious songs were enticing brawny, bronzed sailors to jump into my shimmering Inbox, only to drown in my winsome charms.
Dear Reader, it was not so.
These Gentleman Emailers are conflating activities they would like to undertake with actions they must take. Such repeated, enthusiastic expressions give me the impression that the Gentleman Emailer doesn't much care about my personality, interests, boundaries, or any of the other points in my (time-consumingly written) profile. And so: I touch that button known as "Delete," and *plonk* goes the epistle.
Unfortunate Cultural Narrative #2: Women will be flattered when informed that they are not like other women.
Email Example: I can tell you are not like [description of All the Women Who Done Him Wrong].
Reaction: I have sometimes wondered if these particular Gentleman Emailers would open a job interview at General Motors by saying "ALL CAR MANUFACTURERS ARE LIKE MUCUS. GATHERED FROM ROTTING SNAILS. IN THE SARLAAC'S PIT OUTSIDE JABBA'S PALACE. (pause) Except for you guys. You're awesome!"
I think not.
Many of us humans on Popular Internet Dating Site have had our hearts broken. But making immediate assertions about those other people in your life signals to me that you are blaming problems in said past relationships on woman-ness, rather trying to figure out what went wrong and each case and taking responsibility for your own actions. It does not inspire confidence that you see me as an individual. I'm not the Woman to Do You Right; I'm just the Woman Who Hasn't Done You Wrong...Yet.
*Plonk* we go.
Unfortunate Cultural Narrative #3: Women wish to be swept off their feet! Immediately! With Bold! Romantic! Gestures!
Email Example: Oh my god you are just [extreme superlative]. I already know I love you. Call me so we can [offline activity].
Reaction: I confess, dear reader, that when I had just begun this Internet dating thing, I accepted one of these invitations from a first email, against my better judgment. (Ah, better judgment! How I have learned to love you.)
The date went something like this:
Me: [Query about current event]
Gentleman Emailer: [Sneering Republican Sentiment]
Me: [Mildly Liberal Position, with Obama-esque Statement of Common Ground]
GE: [Guffaw, with accompanying Fox News Quote]
Me: [Something Canadian]
GE: [Repeat of Sneering Republican Sentiment, with Added Canadian Insult]
Me: [Somewhat Frosty, Muted Reply]
GE: [Further Canadian Slur]
Me: [Increasingly Frosty WASP Reply]
GE: [Yet more slurs! Assurance of Joking State.]
Me: [*is basically Queen Elizabeth now*]
In every way, his behavior on the date confirmed that he had no interest in my personality, interests, or boundaries. The pressure to go out wasn't romantic. It was bullying.
Reader, I *plonked* him.
Unfortunate Cultural Narrative #4: All women want a man to rescue her from her drab existence.
Email Example: Hey, [highly familiar endearment] are you ready to be spoiled? Because I want to [remove you from your current condition].
Reaction: I have a fantasy, dear Reader. In my fantasy, Captain Jack Harkness swoops by one eve to whisk me away for a life of well-dressed swashbuckling weirdness, punctuated by lots and lots of seriously sweaty snugglebunnies with said Captain Jack. Occasionally, Captain Mal joins in the sweaty snugglebunnies, whilst Captain Picard reads erotic passages of the Kama Sutra to us in his plummy, yummy, voice.
Reader, that is a fantasy.
In reality, if a dude swoops down from the sky—or Internet—to announce that he wants to take me to Tahiti and spend his fortune keeping me in Fabergè eggs and unicorn farts, it does not make me want to accompany him to the corner gas station, let alone any destination requiring a passport.
It makes me wonder what he expects in exchange for this cozy arrangement. It makes me wonder what he saw in my profile that suggests I am unhappy with my current life. It makes me reach quickly for my trusty friend, Delete.
Sweet, sweet *plonk* of life.
Unfortunate Cultural Narrative #5: Women do not know what they want, and are therefore charmed when men tell them what it is they actually want.
Email Example: oh, I know you stated your [boundaries] were [range], but I am [significant outlier] and I know we are PERFECT!
Reaction: Some of my Gentleman Emailers seem convinced that all women are imported to the planet Earth from another dimension, where communication is conducted solely though bee-like dances and antennae-waving. Therefore, they may rightfully ignore any so-called "words" that I "type."
For example, a Gentleman Emailer who currently serves in the clergy of [Deity redacted—let's say Cthulhu] sent me an introductory message telling me that he just knew I would make a wonderful partner in [Cthulhu] and that he had begged [Cthulhu] to send him a [multi-tentacled Handmaiden of the Great Old Ones] and he just knew it was me! He would show me the glory of [Cthulhu]! Oh, how he wanted to meet and talk about [Cthulhu]! And, babies.
This, in response to a profile that describes religion as a private matter and specifically forbids conversion attempts.
(Reader, I fear you know his fate. It begins with "p" and ends with "k", and a shoggoth lies in between.)
As I ponder these Unfortunate Cultural Narratives, and these emails, I contrast them with the Positive Principles of Productive Emails. The ones that make me actually want to meet said Gentleman Emailer for canasta and croquet, or to further discuss my extensive collection of Mad Max-themed tea cozies.
What's the different between "productive" and *plonk*?
Individuality, Boundaries, and Respect.
Positive Principle 1: Individuality!
All the above-referenced narratives assume that "women" are a certain way. But women are individual humans. Some humans like video games, some like needlepoint, some like books, some like golf. Some like Fabio, some like Brucio, some like Juicy-O. Some humans like men. Some like women. Some both, neither, or a totally differently-defined subset of human. Some people might LOVE any or all of the approaches described above. I did not, and a fairly simple read of my profile should have communicated this. If you're looking for that special someone, that implies paying attention to who the person says zie actually is. Emails that mention my interests and self-descriptions tend to be received positively.
Positive Principle 2: Boundaries!
Everyone has boundaries about what they want to do when and how. Boundaries about who they wish to date. Boundaries about how they wish to date. Boundaries about a whooooole lot of things. In my profile, some boundaries are right there in the open. Not everyone communicates boundaries easily, so the best thing is to ask if in doubt. But when zie has clearly stated boundaries, you don't get to decide that some are optional. Emails from those who observe the boundaries I've stated are usually productive.
Positive Principle 3: Respect!
Respect is the verb that makes Individuality and Boundaries complete. Respecting a fellow human means treating that person as inherently valuable and real. The Lady Emailer at the other end is a breathing, thinking being, not a two-dimensional fantasy or disembodied voice. It's not assuming anything beyond the information one has; it's about demonstrating that, whether or not the Lady Emailer turns out to be your True Love, zie is still human with the right to self-determination. Emails from GE who follow this principle...well, I think you are getting the idea.
And so, dear Reader, I leave you with my (highly subjective) experiences, and wish you the best always in any Romantic Adventures you may pursue. May your heart be full of Positive Principles, and your email free of pesky *plonks*.
This is so the worst thing you're going to read all day.
[Trigger warning for rape apologia and disregard for consent, autonomy, respect, and dignity.]
Approximately 97 million people (that's just rough estimate, and thanks to each of you) have sent me the link to a rather editorially curious piece at Jezebel, "American Guy in Paris Freed from the Idea of 'Consent'", in which a fella details how much more awesome Parisian women are because they are empowered by being groped. No, I'm not being funny:
Having just returned from living in Paris, I feel more convinced than ever that America gets many things wrong about sex. Right there near the top of the list is our attachment to the idea of consent.I'll just briefly note, then swiftly file away under "No Doy," the fact that our French female readers do not express any less interest in the concept of consent than do female readers from other countries.
In Paris, it seems as if the straight male attitude toward consent is that it doesn't exist. At clubs, bars, bistros, in the street or on the Metro, Parisian men lobby very aggressively for sex. At the clubs in the 8ème, off the Champs-Élysées, and all along Rue de Rivoli, it is fairly common to watch men literally grab and touch the girls who weave through the crowd.
...Parisian women seem to derive a feminist power from this chauvinism that makes them come across as strong, self-determining, and completely aware of themselves as permanent objects of desire. And drunk or sober, it seems Parisian women get exactly what they want while their men, if rejected, are left to hammer doggedly away at other targets. It's anybody's guess whether the Parisians are more sexually satisfied by this arrangement, but one thing seems sure: Parisian women seem empowered by it. They make the decisions.
In America, by contrast, the discourse on consent impresses upon us all, men and women alike, that sex is something more important than a decision.
Beyond that, my reaction can be accurately, if succinctly, summed up thus:
UPDATE: Also see Sady.
On the "Restore Sanity/Fear" Rally
So, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert held a rally yesterday. (More here.) And Jon Stewart closed the event with a serious monologue urging cooperation, which I suppose was supposed to be profound, but is, frankly, utterly meaningless in the context he created of "both sides are just as bad."
Both sides are not just as bad, and both sides are not equally responsible for the antagonism that has led to the extreme political polarization which currently prevents cooperation.
It's evident in a Democratic president who's alienating his own base in order to work with the opposition—and an opposition who overly promise gridlock and talk about blood oaths to shut down the government if they don't get their way.
It's evident in a civil rights movement in which people want the basic rights to serve their country openly and marry whom they love, the equality guaranteed them by the Constitution—and their ideological opponents shutting down debate with lies and fearmongering and hatred mendaciously cloaked in religion, so they can claim a right to religious freedom, even as their religious beliefs oppress others.
It's evident in a debate about a legal medical procedure in which the people with the pro-choice position are said to be restricting freedom, though no one is forced to submit to the procedure under their paradigm; in which the people who support giving access to women to a life-saving procedure are the ones who are said to be murderers. People with the "pro-life" position harass patients and murder doctors.
The positions and strategies "both sides" of these issues—as on many others—are not equivalent.
The pro-choice position does not force anyone to get an abortion who does not want one; the anti-choice position, however, prevents women who want abortions from getting them. The pro-marriage equality position does not force anyone to marry a person of the same sex, nor require that any churches perform same-sex marriage ceremonies; the anti-marriage equality position, however, prevents same-sex couples who want to get married from doing so and prevents churches who want to perform same-sex marriage ceremonies from doing so.
The progressive position treats women and LGBTQIs as autonomous, rights-bearing human beings deserving of full equality; the conservative position treats women's bodies as state property and LGBTQIs as second-class citizens.
There isn't room for "compromise" there. There is only a fervent belief in the consent, autonomy, respect, and dignity of marginalized people—and a shameless, unapologetic movement to protect undeserved privilege at the expense of the same.
The progressive position allows for individual choice; the conservative position does not. The progressive position expands collective freedom; the conservative position limits it. Over and over and over.
Affirmative action. Immigration reform. Gun laws. Funding the social safety net. Rendition. Torture. Eavesdropping. War v. diplomacy. Pick any issue. It's always the same.
Because that's the nature of conservatism: To preserve privilege.
And lecturing "both sides" about cooperation when one side is about advancing opportunity and expanding access, and the other is about preventing both, is bullshit. The end.
Clusterbuck
Yesterday, Republican US Senate candidate for Colorado Ken Buck—who opposes abortion even in cases of rape/incest and has engaged in professional rape apology—appeared on Meet the Press this weekend, where he endeavored to make it clear that he's not just a rank misogynist with intractable hostility toward the notions of autonomy and consent, but is also a gross homophobe who believes being gay is a choice, even though "birth has an influence over it, like alcoholism and some other things."
David Gregory: In a debate last month, you expressed your support for Don't Ask, Don't Tell [and] you alluded to 'lifestyle choices.' Do you believe that being gay is a choice?You know, the funny thing is that I would not be axiomatically in disagreement with an argument that went something like: "I believe that sexuality exists on a spectrum, is fluid for many people, and, through some combination of genetic predisposition and cultural influence—nature and nurture, if you prefer—we all come to arrive at an individual sexuality along that spectrum, a journey which is less choice for some than others, but we should all be free to choose whatever we like for ourselves, including those with whom we consensually partner, and no one choice should be privileged above another."
Ken Buck: I do.
Gregory: Based on what?
Buck: Based on what?
Gregory: Yeah. Why do you believe that?
Buck: Well, I guess you can choose who your partner is.
Gregory: You don't think it's something that's determined at birth?
Buck: I think that birth has an influence over it, like alcoholism and some other things, but I think that basically you have a choice.
Gregory: That put him outside the mainstream of views on this?
Michael Bennet: I absolutely believe he's outside the mainstream of views on this.
Which it almost sounds like Buck could be saying—until he gets to that whole "ya know, like alcoholism" thing, which implicitly construes homosexuality as a disease. If pressed, I imagine Buck might come out with some evangelical mumbo-jumbo about how homosexuality, like alcoholism, is a test from god, a temptation that moral people are meant to avoid. I grew up hearing stuff like that: We're challenged not to steal when the collection plate passes by, and gay people are challenged not to succumb to their naughty, naughty same-sex urges. Because those are totally the same thing. (And "we" and "gay people" are always mutually exclusive groups.)
It's too bad that the language of choice surrounding sexuality exists almost exclusively in arguments about how queer people could choose to not be queer, if they really wanted to—because when the best argument against Buck's nonsense is, "Nuh-uh! Queer people can't help who they are!" that doesn't feel very much like a win to me.
In a better world, Gregory wouldn't be pointing out that Buck's views are outside the mainstream because he believes being gay could be a choice, but because he believes that, if it is, people should necessarily choose otherwise.
Poor People Are Stupid. And Fat.
[Trigger warning for fat hatred, body policing, and classism.]
New York Mayor and "anti-obesity" crusader Michael Bloomberg is asking the federal government for permission "to bar New York City's 1.7 million recipients of food stamps from using them to buy soda or other sugared drinks."
The request, made to the United States Department of Agriculture, which finances and sets the rules for the food-stamp program, is part of an aggressive anti-obesity push by the mayor that has also included advertisements, stricter rules on food sold in schools and an unsuccessful attempt to have the state impose a tax on the sugared drinks.Okay, so here's the thing: Stigmatizing food stamp recipients by suggesting they're too stupid to make the right decisions about what food they should be purchasing is not a good idea for reasons that ought to be self-evident. But supposing, for a moment, that this proposal wasn't embedded with patronizing classist horseshit and a heap of fat hatred, there still remain reasons to question the potential efficacy of this proposal, and its very design.
...The mayor requested a ban for two years to study whether it would have a positive impact on health and whether a permanent ban would be merited.
"In spite of the great gains we've made over the past eight years in making our communities healthier, there are still two areas where we're losing ground — obesity and diabetes," the mayor said in a statement. "This initiative will give New York families more money to spend on foods and drinks that provide real nourishment."
Why, for example, is the USDA being petitioned to allow an infringement on the autonomous decision-making of poor USians, instead of petitioned to ban the use of high-fructose corn syrup in all the foods and beverages purchased by those poor USians (and everyone else)? Given that researchers have found that HFCS prompts considerably more weight gain, and that the average USian's consumption of HFCS over the same time period associated with the OH NOES Obesity and Diabetes crisis has increased by "an alarming 12,250%," you'd think that the mayor and USDA might want to start there and see if "a ban for two years [has] a positive impact on health."
Of course, that's never going to happen, since corn is subsidized to the tune of billions of dollars in the US every year. What a coinkydink!
All of which is a moot point, anyway, because we live in a country where people are meant to be allowed to make decisions about their own bodies. (Consent. Autonomy. Respect. Dignity.) And access to that freedom of decision-making isn't supposed to be decided on how much money one earns.
I'm not naïve or ignorant enough to believe that shit doesn't happen all the time already; we live in a fucked-up country that preaches equality and practices inequality, where we believe we're all middle class except for those people, for whom we're pretty sure we should be allowed to make decisions.
But I expect more.
In a town where Michael Bloomberg's buddy Donald Trump has become a billionaire and gone bankrupt and become a billionaire again, you'd think there'd be more support for the idea that everyone should have the right to make their own decisions, even if they're lousy ones.
And, frankly, I can think of about a metric fuckton of lousier decisions than consuming a can of soda.
Consent. Autonomy. Respect. Dignity.
[Trigger warning for misogyny, sexual assault, bullying, suicide, slut-shaming, and victim-blaming.]
[Transcript below.]
Above is video of a CNN piece that aired about Hope Witsell, a 13-year-old girl who hung herself after being viciously bullied following the dissemination of a picture of her breasts she texted to her boyfriend.
This story is similar to the more widely-discussed Tyler Clementi case in a very important way: Sexual images of Witsell were distributed without her consent, so it was not merely bullying, or "cyberbullying," that Witsell experienced, but sexual assault. And, also like the Clementi case, any discussion of sexual assault aspect is being eclipsed by the current media meme about bullying.
But the way in which Witsell's situation is being framed here is meaningfully different from the way Clementi's case was framed by mainstream commentators, who clearly laid the responsibility at the feet of his roommate. Here, we hear instead of Witsell's "mistake," and how she'd been warned by her mother about "the dark side of cell phones and computers," but "sexted" a private sexual photo to her boyfriend nonetheless. Curiously, it is never explained how the image privately sent to the boy ended up being in the hands of a female classmate, who then widely disseminated the photo, nor are either of them held accountable for the grave breach of Witsell's trust. Welcome to the rape culture, where it's just taken as read that people will violate you, so it's your responsibility not to do anything to make yourself vulnerable. And if you do, that's your "mistake."
No one with any decency suggests Clementi shouldn't have trusted his roommate not to secretly film him. But suggesting that Witsell shouldn't have trusted her boyfriend not to pass along a private image is not only considered acceptable, but the obvious conclusion for how the whole thing could have been avoided.
If we lived in a different (better) culture, we would use the sad and entirely avoidable death of Hope Witsell to have a national referendum on how slut-shaming and victim-blaming, specifically in association with young women's sexuality, is as damaging to (and frequently deadly for) young straight women as homo/bi/transphobic bullying is to LGBTQI youth. There is so much crossover between misogyny, homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia, particularly at the intersection of demonized sexuality, of which expressions of young straight women's sexual agency remains firmly a part, that these are not separate issues, nor competing issues—they are inextricably linked. Consent. Autonomy. Respect. Dignity.
Of course, if we lived in a different (better) culture, I wouldn't be writing this post at all.
Randi Kaye, CNN Correspondent (in voiceover, over photographs of Hope Witsell): Hope Witsell was a good student, but about a year ago Hope did something so unexpected, so out of character, it changed everything. (onscreen): Friends and family say this all started in the spring of 2009 at the end of the school year when Hope sexted a picture of her breasts to her boyfriend. Another girl at school they say got her hands on that photo and sent it to students at six different schools in the area. Before Hope could do anything about it, that photo had gone viral.
Donna Witsell, Hope's Mother: —and to just love everybody.
Kaye (in voiceover): Hope's mother, Donna, says she warned her many times about the dark side of cell phones and computers. (onscreen, sitting with Donna Witsell): So after all those conversations, you never imagined that she would sext a photo of herself to someone.
Witsell: No. No. No. Absolutely not.
Kaye (in voiceover): The photo made Hope a target. She was in middle school—11, 12 and 13-year-olds, and suddenly bullies everywhere.
Kayla Stitch, Hope's Friend (sitting at a table with other friends of Hope's, being interviewed by Kaye): They would walk up to her and call her like a big slut and whore, and, like, they would—sometimes they would, like, call her skank and, like, just be really, like, cruel to her.
Kaye: Hope hid her pain from her family and school officials. They knew about the photo, but she never told them about the ridicule. And she couldn't escape it. Online, friends say bullies wrote horrible things about Hope. On a MySpace page called "The Shields Middle School Burn Book," anonymous bullies created a "Hope Hater" page to taunt her.
Abby Hudson, Hope's Friend: Every time I see it I think back to Hope and what people were saying about her.
Kaye (in voiceover): And it got worse. In school friends formed a human shield for her.
Lexi Leber, Hope's Friend: People would try to come by and like hit her or push her into a locker or something.
Kaye: So you walked as a—like a crowd?
Stitch: Yes.
Kaye: Protecting her.
Leber: She was, like, afraid to walk alone because she was afraid that somebody was going to do something to her, or like verbally attack her, so we always—so she'd always have somebody come with her.
Kaye (in voiceover): Her parents did not know what was going on. (onscreen): Did you see a change in her behavior? Could you tell something wasn't quite right?
Witsell: I could tell that she was struggling to overcome this mistake that she made.
Kaye (in voiceover): On a Saturday, as school was starting last year, Hope helped her dad mow the lawn, ate dinner with her parents, and then went upstairs to her room. Her parents turned on a TV show.
Witsell: When we had finished watching the program, and I went upstairs to go in her room and kiss her goodnight, like I always do, is when I found her.
Kaye: What happened when you walked in her bedroom?
Witsell: I—I screamed for my husband as I was putting her on the bed. And doing CPR.
Kaye (in voiceover): It was too late. Hope was already dead. The 13-year-old hanged herself from her canopy bed. She used her favorite scarves. (onscreen): The day before she died Hope met with a social worker at school. A spokesperson for the school said the social worker was concerned that Hope may have been trying to harm herself, so she had her sign what's called a "no harm" contract in which Hope promised to speak to an adult if she was considering hurting herself. Her mother told me she was never told about that contract. She found it crumpled in the garbage in Hope's bedroom after she had died. (in voiceover): The school told us that the social worker had tried calling Hope's parents, but the parents say the school dropped the ball. And still, incredibly, the bullying was not over. After Hope's suicide, her sister Samantha found more cruel comments posted on Hope's MySpace page.
Samantha Beattie, Hope's Sister: There was people putting comments on there like, oh, my god, did Hope really kill herself, I can't believe that whore did that, you know, just obscene things that I would never expect from a 12-year-old or 13-year-olds.
Kaye: Obscene things written by children. So terrible, Hope Witsell thought there was only one way to escape. Randi Kaye, CNN, Tampa, Florida.
