Smart, funny people are sexy as hell. Here’s some wisdom from the goddess that is Amy Poehler.
songbird: And you don’t have to sit by quietly, either.
Jessica Valenti (via cite-belle)
songbird: and when we let our guard down, the blaming begins. “Why were you out on a Friday night? With that short skirt? With those high heels? Why weren’t you looking out for yourself?”
Nothing but constant vigilance is satisfactory.
I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.
I am tired of fighting with my friends. I am tired of arguing that someone groping and slapping my butt isn’t “what I have to expect”, just because I’m at a bar, and the one attacking my butt has a drink in the other hand. I am tired of hearing “boys will be boys” and “when you’re dressed like that …” and “that’s just what guys do”. I am tired of trying to drown those sentiments in loud, repetitive no’s, screamed over and over again, till my throat is sore and my voice weak – just to hear them repeated, as soon as exhaustion threatens to silence me.
I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of seeing someone writing something offensive, sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, somewhere online. I am tired of seeing those writings getting likes and lol’s, and SO TRUE’s. I am tired of being consumed by confusion and anger, typing, typing, typing and typing a seemingly endless response, including research, links and statistics, and then hesitate clicking “submit”. I am tired of knowing that I hesitate because I am afraid of the flood of responses that will come. I am tired of knowing that I will be bombarded with lighten up’s, stop whining’s and get a sense of humor’s for so long, that I will start to wonder if I am indeed wound up too tight, a nagger and humorless. I am tired of the fact that I’m afraid of being called a cunt, even though I don’t find genitalia insulting or demeaning.
songbird: I’ve grappled with the idea of being That Girl. You know, That Girl. That Girl who talks about reproductive rights while waiting for 10th grade trig class to start. That Girl who everyone side-eyed at every other joke said in the hallways. That Girl whose Facebook wall is full of Feminist blog entries and angry rants.
Some of my friends tell me that they knew about my political views before they knew me. And that it’d put them off. It still puts some people off.
So you know what, I get tired sometimes. Sometimes, I want to smile and laugh at handsome boys who say the worst things, because it is exhausting to be contrary all the time. It is exhausting to explain again and again why racism and sexism and classism still exists, and no, darling, I don’t think Asians are practically white at this point.
And when I’m finished saying, “I think…” and “well, but…”, I get tired of being angry. I get tired of having my arguments being invalidated because I’m being an angry man-hating Feminist whose emotional investment in feminism is tainting the lofty logics of the discussion. I get exhausted of being asked about my mental stability and past traumas, like being a feminist and angry and outspoken is a condition created by a series of unfortunate circumstances.
I get tired of being That Girl.
I get so tired.
But who will I be right now without That Girl?
Love this from The Fempire