March 12, 2013
Wass at the Pro-Choice Demo in Solidarity with Northern Irish Women.

February 16, 2013
Absolutely horrible thing I just came across

The infamous RapeLay is a molestation simulation that allows you to terrorize a woman and her two teenage daughters. Events in RapeLay range from groping on a train to gang rape and forced abortions.

September 12, 2012

theefrosty:

{UnWinona}: I debated whether or not to share this story.

unwinona:

I debated whether or not to share this story.

And then I debated whether or not to put it on Tumblr…but I decided it was important.  Because in my own way, I can (unfortunately) point out exactly what is wrong with men when they don’t realize how hard it is to be a woman.  How we do not have equal opportunities and freedoms in everyday life.  How most men, even good caring men, have no clue what we go through on a daily basis just trying to live our lives.

So here goes.

I often ride the Metro when I commute from North Hollywood to Long Beach in order to save money.  I bring a book, pointedly wear a ring on my ring finger to imply I’m married (I’m not) and keep to myself.  

Without fail, I am aggressively approached by men on at least half of these commutes.  The most common approach is to walk up to where I am sitting with body language that practically screams LEAVE ME ALONE and sit down next to me or as close to me as possible, when the train is not crowded and there are many empty rows.  Sometimes an overly friendly arm is draped over the railing behind me, or they attempt to lean in close to talk to me as if we are old friends.  Without fail, the man or boy in question will lean to close and ask me

What are you reading?

Is that a good book?

What’s that book about?


This serves the double purpose of getting my attention and trapping me in a conversation.  If I stop reading the book I enjoy to talk to you, random stranger, you hit on me or just stay way too close to me.  If I tell you to leave me alone, you get mad at me.  Because I somehow, as a woman, owe you conversation.

Tonight when I boarded the train in Long Beach at 10:30pm, it started up right away.  I was not on the train more than three minutes before three boys who looked eighteen sat in the row behind me and leaned over the seats into my personal space, close enough to breathe on me.  The one with his arm draped over onto the back of my seat asked me—surprise— “what are you reading?”  I went through my usual routine.  I told them loudly and firmly that I wanted to be left alone to read my book.  They got angry.  I was told “Why are you going to be like that?  I just wanted to talk!”  His friends start laughing at me and they don’t move, telling me come on! and why are you gonna be like that? until I tell them to leave me the fuck alone, stand up, and move to the front of the car near the three other people on the train, a couple and a business man in a suit.  They spend the next two stops shouting at me from the back of the car, alternating between trying to sound flirtatious and making fun of me, shouting “I bet she’s reading Stephanie Meyer!  I bet she’s reading Twilight or some shit!  You reading Twilight or some shit?”

They exit the train at the next stop, and I’m relieved.  The train is going out of service at the next station, so we all exit to board a new train to Los Angeles.  As we board, the business man steps aside to let me go through the door first and asks me if those guys were bothering me.  I say yes, that it happens all the time, and he tells he’ll beat them up for me if they come back.  He is a nice person who talks to me like I’m a human being instead of a walking pair of tits, and I make a mental note:  This is how a real man talks to a woman on a train.

The business man and the couple exit our new Blue Line train an exit or so later, and I think my night is ending on a good note.  A seemingly normal man enters the train with his bicycle.  At this point I am three rows from the front of the car, another man was sitting near the back of the car, and the rest of the car is empty.  Bicycle Man walks halfway down the row, and settles into the seat directly opposite me.  Perfect, I think.  Twice in one night.

It’s not the first time I’ve been bothered multiple times.  As such, I’m still amped from the teenagers on the first train.  So when this man leans across the aisle into my personal space and asks me, yes, what are you reading, I assertively but calmly tell him to please leave me alone, I am reading.  The man stands up, moving to the front and muttering angrily over his shoulder that it isn’t his fault I’m pretty.

Yes.  Exactly that.  I am the bad person in this situation because somehow this is all my fault.  I started this by being attractive.  I am making a mental note to bitch about this to my friends later.  I go so far as to write it down so I know I’m remembering it properly.  

It is at this exact moment I realize Bicycle Man is not taking it well.  The seemingly annoying but normal man a moment before is now talking to himself, becoming agitated.  In my years of being bothered by total strangers, I have learned how to hold a book and seem to be reading while taking in everything around me.  He is glaring at me, and says out loud in an angry baby talk voice “PLEASELEAVEMEALONEI’MREADING.  PLEASE LEAVE ME ALOOOONE.”

Then he’s up out of his seat and things go from bad to worse.  He begins pacing back and forth in front of his bike, alternating between screaming something about his mother being dead and calling me a slut, a hoe, a bitch.  I am frozen in place.  There is one other person in the car, and I’m not sure if trying to change seats will draw more attention to me or less. I trust my instincts and show no fear, doing my best to appear to be calmly reading my book, never once looking up to acknowledge the abuse he’s hurling at me.  There are four stops left until we reach the main downtown station where there are lights and security officers.  Those four stops are virtually abandoned, and I have no guarantee that leaving to wait for another train won’t motivate him to leave the train as well, leaving us potentially alone at a metro station platform just outside of Compton.  I’m frozen in place, trying to plan what I’m going to do if he decides to take all this rage directly to me.  I’m ready to kick him, scream, make enough noise that he panics and flees.  

At this point he’s punching the walls and doors of the train, screaming at me.  He stares me full in the face and screams

SUCK MY DICK, BITCH

YOU BITCH

YOU STUPID BITCH

YOU GODDAMN HO

IF I HAD A GUN I’D SHOOT YOU

I WOULD FUCKING KILL YOU BITCH

This went on for two stops.  No one came to see what was happening.  The man in the last row was as frozen as I was.  I’m not angry he didn’t come to my defense.  He was smaller, older, and frailer-looking than I was.  Again, I was worried if I got up, I would be turning my back on him to walk down the aisle.  In the state he was in, I had no guarantee it wouldn’t get physical, and I had more physical strength with my back to the window and feet in kicking position where I was.  If he had chosen to assault me, I would only be making it easier for him by standing up and putting myself directly in his path.  On and on, over and over, he screamed at me, screamed at his dead mother, screamed at me again.

The moment we reached the downtown station, I was out the door and down the stairs.  I still had to catch a connecting train to North Hollywood, and made sure there was no sign of Bicycle Man before I entered the car.  That’s when I finally starting shaking, and almost threw up.  By the time I exited the Red Line and reached my car I could barely breathe and my heart was pounding out of my chest.  Even now, in my own home, my hands are still shaking and for some reason the stress has made my back muscles feel cold and numb.  From all the tension, I can only assume.  I can’t eat anything, I still feel like I’m going to vomit, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t cried so much, so hard I still have the headache.

So when people (men) want to talk about “legitimate” forms of assault, tell girls they should be nice to strangers and give men the benefit of a doubt, tell them to consider it a compliment, tell them to ignore the bad behavior of men, I want them to be forced to feel, for even one minute, what it feels like to have so much verbal hatred and physical intimidation thrown at them for nothing more than being female and not wanting to share.  

I just wanted to read my book.

It’s not my fault I’m pretty.

(via artblackafrica)

June 10, 2012
Consent

wearenotlonely:

I have so many feels about this topic, as it’s one that people aren’t ever really taught properly. Basically I’ve been told that screaming “NO” and fighting back signals lack of consent, and every other form of behavior is seen as consent. This is a horrifying attitude.

So let’s break it down

  • Your partner being intoxicated and mumbling “yes” or “sure” does not signal consent. If your partner has said to you before going out “I can’t wait to have stoned/drunk sex with you!” or something to that effect and they still say yes (not begrudgingly) when intoxicated then you can perhaps take it as genuine consent. If the decision was agreed to before they were intoxicated and this is still agreed upon once intoxicated then consent appears to still be there. HOWEVER if your partner expressed that they didn’t want to do anything sexual tonight before they were intoxicated or you two have never done the act that you’re about to do before then you need to seriously assess whether this is in their best interests. If they don’t appear to be interested or are distracted then you need to not go ahead. It’s much better to have a partner go to bed pissy and horny because you’ve said “I think we should wait” rather than assault your partner or perform sex acts without their true consent. 
  • If your partner is sleepy or falls asleep during any act, no matter the circumstances, YOU NEED TO STOP. Someone being asleep means that they can’t tell you what is and isn’t acceptable and you may cross their boundaries unintentionally. If they fall asleep or appear sleepy stop all sexual activity. They may just need a small nap before they’re completely alert and willing to give consent.
  • If your partner checks out or appears far away while engaging in any sexual act, stop and ask if they’re alright. Don’t continue and ignore it. Your partner may have withdrawn consent or feel regretful but not know how to approach you about it.
  • If your partner has said that they do not want to do a particular sex act before you began this particular sexual encounter DO NOT ask them during the act. I personally feel obligated to say yes during sexual activity and my response isn’t always what I’m truly comfortable with. Make sure if a non-aroused them stated what their boundaries are you don’t ask to cross them during the moment.
  • Sometimes fantasy and reality aren’t the same thing. If you’re trying to enact a fantasy (especially with consensual non-consent/rape play/rough sex) you need to continue checking in with your partner. If it’s the first time I’m a huge believer in saying things like “Would it be alright if I choked you? How’s the pressure?”. It may kill the mood but from then on you know where your partners boundaries are. Make sure there’s a safe word so if you’re in character in future and their boundaries shift they can stop you before they’re harmed in any way.
  • Discuss your sex life openly. In a non-sexual setting (having dinner, watching television, snuggling) talk about your sex life. What do you like? What don’t you like? What terminology do you enjoy during sex? It’s often a lot less threatening to hear about boundaries when the environment isn’t sexually charged.
  • COERCION IS NOT CONSENT.

There is nothing sexier than consent. Having a non-consensual sexual experience can ruin ANY relationship, no matter how healthy. Having your boundaries crossed  isn’t something that ever really leaves you, so be mindful of other people’s limitations.

(Source: allwecanbe)

May 27, 2012

sexgenderbody:

“Listen, It does not matter what you say. As a woman, as a woman of color, as a woman of size, as a woman with large breasts or no breasts and a lifetime of experience with bucketloads of passion. It does not fucking matter.* Because unless there is a white guy backing you up, you are an angry bitch. Uppity, spirited, “that girl,” the femanazi, the super-libber, the PC chick, the conspiracy theorist… I just wish my own experiences were enough. That the experiences of fellow women were enough. But we must always come with backers. We must always have a few men nodding along behind us in the crowd. And at the very least if we’re going to be so bold as to bring up racism or sexism in polite company then we better be willing to quote reputable studies that have been widely recognized by the psychological and sociological communities. If we lack this armor we are just drama. Dramatic or… wait for it… psycho bitches who think everybody is out to rape them or thinks they must be, “Like, soooo attractive to be hit on so much and totally, probably, like, thinks like a victim.” This is so dangerous because I believe it teaches us not to trust our own judgments. Sadly, in this world, that can be life or death. When that guy hits on you for the third time at the club we should just get over it. He wasn’t being that creepy. “Oh no, girl, don’t talk to the bouncer about him, that’s just drama. Just have a good time.” I complained anyway but nothing was done. And hey, when he tries to attack you while leaving the club—which happened to me and a friend in June of this year—the police may ask you why you didn’t complain “more than once” to security. I shit you not. Because it is never good enough. It’s always a teachable moment from man to woman. So listen up, child, because that’s exactly what you are. At least until a white man comes to back up your claims. But I don’t have to tell you that. You already know. The trick is for this argument not to be dismissed outright by some dude in a Quicksilver t-shirt because the fact is, he has final say on the veracity of our claims.”

via PersephoneMagazine (via soydulcedeleche)

May 23, 2012

palmofmyhands:

I seriously dislike these “male feminists” who only exist to undermine the experiences of women and sexism by crying out the they are “suffering” too. And that they are “equally oppressed” because of gender stereotypes etc. They want to absolve themselves of the responsibility to change by basically telling women to ‘get a grip’ and stop being so ‘illusory’/’hypersensitive’ that ‘sexism works both ways’ and that it’s our job to change and ‘protect ourselves’, not theirs.

It makes me ill to read their shit, but the reality is, there are so many of them, they really are not worth the energy.

All their arguments are predicated on the assumption that there is not such thing as patriarchy
that gender discrimination is not systematic or supported by government policy but is rather an individual idiosyncrasy
that every hurt and angry woman feminist is a misandrist.

There are also people who try to make the same argument for racism. White people suffer racism to same extent as black people etc. Forgetting that racism is system of prejudice + power.

Sexism is a system of gender prejudice + power. Take a  hard look at the structure society and come to a conclusion about which gender holds social, political and economic power and then we can talk.

(Source: artblackafrica)

May 21, 2012

vaugelyvintage:

“Men who want to flirt with women have to realize: Women live in a state of continual vigilance about sexual safety. It’s like having a mild case of hay fever that never goes away. It’s not debilitating. You’re not weak. You’re not afraid. You just suck it up and get on with your life. It’s nothing that’s going to stop you from making discoveries, or climbing mountains, or falling in love. Sometimes you can almost forget about it. It doesn’t mean it’s not there, subtly sucking your energy. You learn to avoid situations that make it worse and seek out conditions that make it better. If a female stranger is wary around you, it is not because she suspects you are a rapist, or that all men are rapists. It’s because a general level of circumspection is what vigilance requires. Don’t take it personally. If this frustrates you, try to remember that women are blamed for lapsed vigilance. If a woman does get raped, everyone rushes to see where she let her guard down. Was she drinking? Was she alone? Was she wearing a short skirt? Did she go to a strange man’s room for coffee at 4am? A woman must be seen to be vigilant as well as be vigilant. If she is deemed insufficiently vigilant, she will be at least partly blamed for any sexual violence that befalls her. If she’s regarded as downright reckless, that “evidence” can be used to completely exonerate her rapist. If it comes down to a he said/she said dispute over whether sex was consensual, as so many rape cases do, the dispute becomes a referendum on whether the woman seems like the sort of reckless person who would have sex with a stranger. If a woman does go back to a strange man’s hotel room at 4am, even if she only wants a coffee and conversation, she’s more or less given him the power to rape her. No jury is going to believe she went up there for anything but sex. So, don’t be surprised if a stranger reacts badly to that suggestion.”

Attention, Space Cadets: Do Not Proposition Women in the Elevator

I wish I didn’t need to reblog stuff like this. I wish people *got it*. But judging from the ridiculous response to these posts, stuff like this clearly still needs to be repeated. 

(via lavender-labia)

THIS

(via curlyingenue)

May 18, 2012

whoneedsfeminism:

I need feminism because the term “women logic” exists.

May 11, 2012
Links & Resources.

thatfeministdyke:

Feminism

Racism, Race, & Culture

Sizeism & Body Positivity

GSM (Gender & Sexuality Minorities)

Ableism

Privilege

Reproductive Health

Classism

Misc/Other

(Source: thatfeministqueer, via feministsbakecupcakestoo)

May 11, 2012

alwaysaurora:

relevant

(via purrantula)