I have a love-hate relationship with slut-shaming.
On the one hand, obviously I'm all for women having some class, poise, and self respect. I'm also for women having respect for the feelings of others, and don't like the idea of anyone using another person or treating them as a disposable object (at least, not without their consent!). Watching girls flail around outside the club in dresses that barely cover their panties and making out with everyone in sight for no apparent reason makes me want to go up and give them a jacket and cab fare.
At the same time, however, the vast majority of slut shaming doesn't seem to be about telling women to be safe, to be smart, to be caring of themselves and their partners. It seems to be aimed at the idea that sleeping with multiple people is BAD, no matter how you do it, and sleeping with only a few people is GOOD. No matter how you do it.
And the part of this particular obsession with putting down women with a larger "number" that makes the least sense is the idea that women who have had few partners will be "tight" and women with many partners will be "loose". You know..."down there".
It's this kind of slut shaming that really gets my back up, if only
because my Vulcan side cannot figure out the logic behind it. Because
there isn't any logic, just a knee jerk reaction that makes it easy to
judge people without having to look deeper.
Highly illogical.
First off, that just ain't how it works. The inside of a women is basically a tube of muscle. Like any muscle, it can be strong and tight, or it can be kind of....saggy. What is it that determines this? Stretching and flexing. That's it. Kids and keigels make more of a difference than all the dick in the world....sorry boys. You just don't leave the same kind of impact.
And even if it was the sheer volume of sex a woman had, and each time a dick went in her, she became 1% "looser"....well, it STILL doesn't make sense, because the volume of sex isn't related to the number of sex partners.
When I'm in a relationship, I have far more sex than when I am single, if only because it's available all the time. The single life may have a reputation for being wild and crazy, but even as someone who loves a good one-nighter now and again, I'm still not going to have one every single night. For one thing, I just don't have the time or money to go out and pick up that many people! For another, well, I'm somewhat discriminating. In a relationship, I will have sex twice a day, if I can. Christ, I can (and have) had sex ten times in a day. So the times that I have been in relationships have pretty much always been more sexually active than the single times. Which means that the fewer partners I have.....would mean the more sex.
Sounds counter intuitive? That's because we are constantly taught to assume that slutty singletons are having waaaaay more sex than everyone else. Nope, sorry.
On top of that, there is the simple fact that the higher number of partners you have, the wider range of sizes you will experience. That's just statistical probability. It's highly unlikely that they are all going to be hung like a porn star, and far more common that there will be a lot of small and average in there. But what of the woman who lost her virginity to a guy who puts James Deen to shame, and does her every night? You can bet that'll do a lot more in terms of.....stretching...than shagging five different guys who barely break average.
Last but not least, there is that funny thing that happens when a woman is happily sexually active with multiple partners. She tends to be a little more highly sexed, and a lot more careful about her sexual health. At least, if she has half a brain, she is. Which means that she is probably going to take better care of herself...pelvic exercises included. Trust me, that makes more difference than pretty much anything except popping out a kid or two.
Why did I mention sex drive? Because if you are single, as I mentioned earlier, there are going to be quite a few nights where you aren't getting any. Which is where most women with a high sex drive will be thanking the good lord for sex toys. Most women I know orgasm more often alone than with a partner. Most single women I know masturbate more often than those in relationships. Orgasms cause contractions, actually building those magic muscles. Ergo, single women are doing unintentional tightening a lot more than those celibate or monogamous ones.
All of which adds up to suggest that the lovely lady who marries her high school sweetheart and starts having babies is actually going to feel far more like throwing a sausage down a hallway than your average "slut".
So next time you hear some moron raging on about how so-and-so must be wider than the channel tunnel because she's slept with ten guys, you may want to mention that clearly, the speaker knows sweet fuck all about the female body.
You may also want to ask that thing that I always wonder about: could you possibly be so concerned about only bedding tight girls because you are just too small to feel, otherwise?
Monday 29 April 2013
Saturday 27 April 2013
Naked Nerd Review: What's Your Number
Movie review time!
"Whats Your Number" is one of what I like to call "sex-com"...like a rom-com, but far more about the shagging, lots of dirty jokes and side boobs. I actually quite like them - lots of fun, and not quite so sappy as the traditional fare, although as always, the movie revolves around the finding of a man.
The premise of this particular offering is that Ali, a late 20s/early 30s single girl, reads a magazine article about the average number of sex workers a woman has (10.5, apparently), and which also claims to quote a study saying that women who have more than 20 partners cannot find a husband. As she hits number 20 within the first ten minutes of the movie, she decides to revisit her old boyfriends in the hope that one will have changed and become perfect for her. She does this with the help of her hot and slutty neighbor, who she hates at first, but then (spoiler alert) ends up falling in love with.
The movie has some great points. It's really funny. The actors are great, the characters believable (if a little cliche), and there are some fantastic side stories. The sister's wedding is a really cute side story, and the character of the mother is fantastically drawn - to the point that I made my sister watch the movie because she was so similar to our mother. There are moments that are truly relate-able, which is nice - and what feels (to me, anyway) to be an appropriate amount of drinking. One of my favorite things is also that our girl Ali seems to have a reasonably sized, styled and cleaned apartment. She also has something approaching a normal wardrobe, and spends most of the movie in jeans and a tank top. Thank god.
However.
While the movie itself is cute, funny, and surprisingly engaging, the basic premise makes my little horny soul hurt. It could just as easily be called "Are You A Big Ol Whore?"
This is slut-shaming at it's finest, and an hour and a half of it, at that.
Not only is the entire movie based on the idea that there is some magic number that will make all the difference to your chances of finding a husband, it perpetuates the idea that finding a husband is the ultimate goal. Despite the fact that Ali loses her job around this time, she is fixating on finding a man, not a career. Great role modelling. The wedding side-story really drives this point home. Successful younger sister gets married, throws hot mess older sister into a tailspin. All about the big white dress.
Frankly, when I first saw it, I was appalled at the number itself! Or more to the point, I was appalled that she was so appalled. Is 20 really so appalling? More to the point, who on earth would be so affected by one little article. At no point does it occur to her just to get over it, and be ok with who she is. Her girlfriends may have something to do with it, as they seem horrifically judgemental, asking who could possibly have slept with more than thirteen people (let alone twenty), and talk about "pelvic floor" as though it's all about numbers of men rather than amount of sex....(Monday Morning Rant is brought to you by...).
The most appalling (or possibly, the most reassuring) thing is the comparison between Ali and Colin, the slutty neighbor. Seeing as Colin sleeps with around four women during the movie (that we know of - there is definitely the possibility of more, seeing as part of the help-me-out deal is allowing him to hide from one-night-stands in her apartment), it is safe to assume that his number is well above the dreaded twenty. However, he doesn't seem to care. In fact, he is the only person who asks her why she cares. But Ali doesn't seem to be fazed by his man-slut behavior. She seems to think it's fairly normal for guys, simply calling him a "pig" once or twice. And by the end of the movie, when she realizes that she loves him (obviously), not once does she even think about the sheer number of people he has slept with.
Apparently, she is in on the double standard - fully on board with the idea that she is a skank for banging a few guys, but that he can (in her words) sleep with all of Boston, and it's ok.
The ending killed me a little. For a moment there, I thought it would work. It looked like she was figuring out that she shouldn't stress about an arbitrary number, that she shouldn't fake a personality for a guy....
But then they blow it. Not only does she leave her sister's WEDDING to go hunt down a man (who wouldn't exactly be hard to find the next day - for Christ's sake, he lives across the HALL), but it ends with the discovery that she had passed out next to someone on her list without actually having sex, so she is still not over twenty.
Sigh.
By all means, watch the movie. But only if you are old enough and ugly enough to make your own decisions about what, exactly, counts as "slutty".
Or just ignore all of the underlying messages, and pay attention to one thing. Colin. Who is sharp, funny, and makes a lot of sense. Pay especial attention to his advice on sex (give a great blowjob, but don't worry about figuring out the hand job, because every guy already has) and sluttiness (that a guy isn't going to care how many people you have slept with). Luckily, he is also played by Chris Evans, and he spends a vast amount of time partially clothed.
I can cope with a little slut-shaming for those abs.
"Whats Your Number" is one of what I like to call "sex-com"...like a rom-com, but far more about the shagging, lots of dirty jokes and side boobs. I actually quite like them - lots of fun, and not quite so sappy as the traditional fare, although as always, the movie revolves around the finding of a man.
The premise of this particular offering is that Ali, a late 20s/early 30s single girl, reads a magazine article about the average number of sex workers a woman has (10.5, apparently), and which also claims to quote a study saying that women who have more than 20 partners cannot find a husband. As she hits number 20 within the first ten minutes of the movie, she decides to revisit her old boyfriends in the hope that one will have changed and become perfect for her. She does this with the help of her hot and slutty neighbor, who she hates at first, but then (spoiler alert) ends up falling in love with.
The movie has some great points. It's really funny. The actors are great, the characters believable (if a little cliche), and there are some fantastic side stories. The sister's wedding is a really cute side story, and the character of the mother is fantastically drawn - to the point that I made my sister watch the movie because she was so similar to our mother. There are moments that are truly relate-able, which is nice - and what feels (to me, anyway) to be an appropriate amount of drinking. One of my favorite things is also that our girl Ali seems to have a reasonably sized, styled and cleaned apartment. She also has something approaching a normal wardrobe, and spends most of the movie in jeans and a tank top. Thank god.
However.
While the movie itself is cute, funny, and surprisingly engaging, the basic premise makes my little horny soul hurt. It could just as easily be called "Are You A Big Ol Whore?"
This is slut-shaming at it's finest, and an hour and a half of it, at that.
Not only is the entire movie based on the idea that there is some magic number that will make all the difference to your chances of finding a husband, it perpetuates the idea that finding a husband is the ultimate goal. Despite the fact that Ali loses her job around this time, she is fixating on finding a man, not a career. Great role modelling. The wedding side-story really drives this point home. Successful younger sister gets married, throws hot mess older sister into a tailspin. All about the big white dress.
Frankly, when I first saw it, I was appalled at the number itself! Or more to the point, I was appalled that she was so appalled. Is 20 really so appalling? More to the point, who on earth would be so affected by one little article. At no point does it occur to her just to get over it, and be ok with who she is. Her girlfriends may have something to do with it, as they seem horrifically judgemental, asking who could possibly have slept with more than thirteen people (let alone twenty), and talk about "pelvic floor" as though it's all about numbers of men rather than amount of sex....(Monday Morning Rant is brought to you by...).
The most appalling (or possibly, the most reassuring) thing is the comparison between Ali and Colin, the slutty neighbor. Seeing as Colin sleeps with around four women during the movie (that we know of - there is definitely the possibility of more, seeing as part of the help-me-out deal is allowing him to hide from one-night-stands in her apartment), it is safe to assume that his number is well above the dreaded twenty. However, he doesn't seem to care. In fact, he is the only person who asks her why she cares. But Ali doesn't seem to be fazed by his man-slut behavior. She seems to think it's fairly normal for guys, simply calling him a "pig" once or twice. And by the end of the movie, when she realizes that she loves him (obviously), not once does she even think about the sheer number of people he has slept with.
Apparently, she is in on the double standard - fully on board with the idea that she is a skank for banging a few guys, but that he can (in her words) sleep with all of Boston, and it's ok.
The ending killed me a little. For a moment there, I thought it would work. It looked like she was figuring out that she shouldn't stress about an arbitrary number, that she shouldn't fake a personality for a guy....
But then they blow it. Not only does she leave her sister's WEDDING to go hunt down a man (who wouldn't exactly be hard to find the next day - for Christ's sake, he lives across the HALL), but it ends with the discovery that she had passed out next to someone on her list without actually having sex, so she is still not over twenty.
Sigh.
By all means, watch the movie. But only if you are old enough and ugly enough to make your own decisions about what, exactly, counts as "slutty".
Or just ignore all of the underlying messages, and pay attention to one thing. Colin. Who is sharp, funny, and makes a lot of sense. Pay especial attention to his advice on sex (give a great blowjob, but don't worry about figuring out the hand job, because every guy already has) and sluttiness (that a guy isn't going to care how many people you have slept with). Luckily, he is also played by Chris Evans, and he spends a vast amount of time partially clothed.
I can cope with a little slut-shaming for those abs.
Bad Sex Positions: The Princess
Whenever I listen to the song "Walk of Shame" by Pink, I am struck by one line.
"I'm wearing last night's dress
And I look like a hot ass mess
Although my hair looks good
'cause I haven't slept yet."
Whaaaaaaaat?
Who on earth manages to stay up all night getting fucked six ways from Sunday, but doesn't mess up her hair?
Oh right, the Princess.
The girl who puts sooooooo much effort into looking good enough to pick someone up, that they seem to forget that once that mission is accomplished, looking good isn't quite as important any more.
Maybe they have watched a little too much softcore, and think that hair and makeup can actually stay perfect while fucking (without breaks and a makeup team? Right.). Maybe they are just hideously insecure and worry that if they look less than perfect, he'll run screaming. Maybe they didn't intend to get laid, but did intend to keep that expensive style for the morning.
Whatever the reason, you find yourself in bed with a Princess.
You can't pull her hair, because you'll mess it up. This also limits your positions somewhat, as at no time can she be pushed up against something that would crush her 'do. Nothing too energetic on her part, either. God forbid she sweats off her perfectly applied MAC. She has a lipgloss in her bag for touchups, so she can suck your dick....but don't you dare get too into it, or the mascara will run.
She'll make all of this very clear as time goes by. Princesses have absolutely no problem (and a surprising amount of strength) with flinging a man off them and shrieking "not the HAAAAAAIR".
Really girls? Does it really matter that much? To me, it is a mark of great sex that you end up looking a little like you have been dragged through a hedge backwards. Taking more than twenty minutes to brush out all the knots in my hair just makes me smile.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Sex should be FUN. You should get into it, you should enjoy it, you should give in to how fucking fantastic it feels, and screw the hair, screw the neighbors, screw everything else, and just screw.
So what if you end up looking like a raccoon hiding under a bird's nest? Who cares?
Trust me, the person you are in bed with should care about two things. Is he having fun, and are you? And if you do manage to meet a man who could go from balls deep to one foot out the door just because you got a little smudged, trust me. You don't want him.
"I'm wearing last night's dress
And I look like a hot ass mess
Although my hair looks good
'cause I haven't slept yet."
Whaaaaaaaat?
Who on earth manages to stay up all night getting fucked six ways from Sunday, but doesn't mess up her hair?
Oh right, the Princess.
The girl who puts sooooooo much effort into looking good enough to pick someone up, that they seem to forget that once that mission is accomplished, looking good isn't quite as important any more.
Maybe they have watched a little too much softcore, and think that hair and makeup can actually stay perfect while fucking (without breaks and a makeup team? Right.). Maybe they are just hideously insecure and worry that if they look less than perfect, he'll run screaming. Maybe they didn't intend to get laid, but did intend to keep that expensive style for the morning.
Whatever the reason, you find yourself in bed with a Princess.
You can't pull her hair, because you'll mess it up. This also limits your positions somewhat, as at no time can she be pushed up against something that would crush her 'do. Nothing too energetic on her part, either. God forbid she sweats off her perfectly applied MAC. She has a lipgloss in her bag for touchups, so she can suck your dick....but don't you dare get too into it, or the mascara will run.
She'll make all of this very clear as time goes by. Princesses have absolutely no problem (and a surprising amount of strength) with flinging a man off them and shrieking "not the HAAAAAAIR".
Really girls? Does it really matter that much? To me, it is a mark of great sex that you end up looking a little like you have been dragged through a hedge backwards. Taking more than twenty minutes to brush out all the knots in my hair just makes me smile.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Sex should be FUN. You should get into it, you should enjoy it, you should give in to how fucking fantastic it feels, and screw the hair, screw the neighbors, screw everything else, and just screw.
So what if you end up looking like a raccoon hiding under a bird's nest? Who cares?
Trust me, the person you are in bed with should care about two things. Is he having fun, and are you? And if you do manage to meet a man who could go from balls deep to one foot out the door just because you got a little smudged, trust me. You don't want him.
Thursday 25 April 2013
Real Life Thursday: Explaining the Disappearance
As I mentioned a while ago, I decided that I would write about my real life, in an attempt to prove to the masses of the internet that sex for money doesn't mean that I am a degenerate junkie.
Of course, having made this announcement, then my actual real life got flip turned upside down, fresh prince style. But with better clothing and worse jokes.
Now that I am back to regular scheduled programming, I have to find stuff to talk about, don't I?
And in an interesting crossover, I have to find things to talk about that are interesting enough to read, yet "normal" enough to help my case that porn people aren't that different from the rest of you. I may be the only blogger in the world debating if something is actually TOO interesting to write about.
Well, to catch you up, in the past month, I moved into a new place, which is much cozier (and all mine, thank god) but brings with it the fear that my neighbors may have a small issue with the amount of sex noise coming through the walls on a daily basis...I have also discovered that this new place is surprisingly easy to break into.
Don't panic, no one broke in. Well, except me. At four in the morning. Drunk. Oops. I may have forgotten (thanks, alcohol. I can always count on you) that unlike my last place, the buzzer does not go to my cell phone, so I need keys to get back in. One cigarette later, and I was climbing up a tower of recycling bins (only falling off once!) and sliding through the window into my kitchen sink. I didn't even break a nail!
Speaking of which, I got my nails back. In the grand tradition of break ups, I dyed my hair, and did the only other thing I could think of to change my appearance, which was to return to having extended claws. Ah, I love them.
Other than that, I am still, wonderfully, extremely boring. I get up in the morning (admittedly, much later in the morning than most people, seeing as 9am is early..), take my dog to the beach, go to the gym, do whatever needs doing, walk the dog again, make dinner, and start work. Not a needle or crazy club night in sight!
Apart from the piercing needles. Oh, and the other night when I did actually end up drinking in a club at 2am.
I think I may fail at the attempt to show my life as normal, but it is definitely going to be interesting!
Of course, having made this announcement, then my actual real life got flip turned upside down, fresh prince style. But with better clothing and worse jokes.
Now that I am back to regular scheduled programming, I have to find stuff to talk about, don't I?
And in an interesting crossover, I have to find things to talk about that are interesting enough to read, yet "normal" enough to help my case that porn people aren't that different from the rest of you. I may be the only blogger in the world debating if something is actually TOO interesting to write about.
Well, to catch you up, in the past month, I moved into a new place, which is much cozier (and all mine, thank god) but brings with it the fear that my neighbors may have a small issue with the amount of sex noise coming through the walls on a daily basis...I have also discovered that this new place is surprisingly easy to break into.
Don't panic, no one broke in. Well, except me. At four in the morning. Drunk. Oops. I may have forgotten (thanks, alcohol. I can always count on you) that unlike my last place, the buzzer does not go to my cell phone, so I need keys to get back in. One cigarette later, and I was climbing up a tower of recycling bins (only falling off once!) and sliding through the window into my kitchen sink. I didn't even break a nail!
Speaking of which, I got my nails back. In the grand tradition of break ups, I dyed my hair, and did the only other thing I could think of to change my appearance, which was to return to having extended claws. Ah, I love them.
Other than that, I am still, wonderfully, extremely boring. I get up in the morning (admittedly, much later in the morning than most people, seeing as 9am is early..), take my dog to the beach, go to the gym, do whatever needs doing, walk the dog again, make dinner, and start work. Not a needle or crazy club night in sight!
Apart from the piercing needles. Oh, and the other night when I did actually end up drinking in a club at 2am.
I think I may fail at the attempt to show my life as normal, but it is definitely going to be interesting!
Wednesday 24 April 2013
Wednesday Reaction: Jezebel, Bingo for Misogyny
I'd like to start by saying that I ADORE jezebel. If I anticipate spending a lot of time writing Wednesday reactions to articles on their site, it's not because I dislike the site, or disagree with it, or really have any negative response to it at all. Instead, it is because I read it nearly daily, and because it is incredibly relevant to who I am and what I do. So funnily enough, it makes me think. When I think, I write. Simple as that.
Sometimes, however, the things I think are that some articles get a little too overly "feminist" - unnecessarily angry about misogyny in the media.
A prime example of this is "Bingo for a Misogynistic World".
The title alone bugs me with its negativity. The assumption that the world is misogynistic reminds me of a certain kind of woman. The kind of angry woman who can't listen to a joke, no matter how funny, without getting in a snit over the fact that blonde/bad driver/dumb women jokes are completely unacceptable. The kind that is as concerned about form as content in the media, but gets very, very angry when any OTHER woman is as concerned about her own form as she is about the content of her personality. In short, the worst kind of self-described "feminist".
The article is a set of three bingo "cards" with words/phrases taken from comments on articles/videos/web content. These are all words that are supposed to shock and appall, and we are advised to have a drink to "numb the pain" when we find one.
I'm pretty sure that the drink part is supposed to be a joke - hopefully the writer isn't actually advocating drinking as a way to deal with emotions. Of course, even as a joke, it is as miserably negative as the title.
Now, some of the words are definitely an issue. I won't argue that I am appalled when someone tells a complete stranger "Kill Yourself". And I understand why some of the words, those that relate to physical appearance, could be seen as an issue. It is definitely frustrating to see how much appearance matters to the media, if you are a woman, and seeing someone reduced to the idea of "fat" or "ugly" as the ultimate insult, well, that's not ok.
Yet, I think that if you take context into account, you will discover that the words are not the problem. That we could create a world where all of these words disappear, but the attitudes still remain, because the words are not the problem.
There seems to be a belief held by a lot of people that words create the world. As a writer, I wish that that was the case. As an optimist, I believe that changing your words can go a long way to changing your mindset. But also as an optimist, I believe that words only have the power we give them. That words are the way we express our thoughts - and that changing out words does not actually change the way we think, it just represents a deeper change in what we are thinking about.
Seeing all these negative words isn't just about misogyny, and claiming it as such is fairly selfish. Assuming that the root of the problem is a hatred for women seems kind of narcissistic, as a gender. It's not hating WOMEN that is the issue. It is simply hate. It is a lack of accountability for the things that we say when we are online, because you don't get to see the reaction. It is a lack of empathy for other people, a lack of awareness, of connectedness. Most worryingly of all, it is the loss of the ability to express oneself accurately, without resorting to mindless insults.
These are issues that need to be resolved at the level of education, of communication, of community. Not by getting angry that some stranger called another stranger a "cunt". By getting angry at the system that created a person with an inability to articulate their thoughts, and without the desire to do so. A system that creates people who believe that their opinion is more important than the feelings of others, and that it is necessary to vomit out every thought that passes through their head. And yes, I am aware of the irony of that sentence, as a blogger.
At the end of the day, its not about women. It's not about women as victims, or men as women-haters. And really, if you think it is, I invite you to peruse the cam rooms of male models. These are words and phrases that the average cam girl hears a hundred times a day. They are also words and phrases that the average cam-GUY hears just as much. I mean, not, TITS OR GTFO. But the phrase DICK OR GTFO gets thrown about. In fact, random insults, death threats, suggestions to suicide....these are just the tip of the iceberg. It may still be men flinging the mud, but they are flinging mud at other men.
Misogyny my ass.
Full Article Here
Sometimes, however, the things I think are that some articles get a little too overly "feminist" - unnecessarily angry about misogyny in the media.
A prime example of this is "Bingo for a Misogynistic World".
The title alone bugs me with its negativity. The assumption that the world is misogynistic reminds me of a certain kind of woman. The kind of angry woman who can't listen to a joke, no matter how funny, without getting in a snit over the fact that blonde/bad driver/dumb women jokes are completely unacceptable. The kind that is as concerned about form as content in the media, but gets very, very angry when any OTHER woman is as concerned about her own form as she is about the content of her personality. In short, the worst kind of self-described "feminist".
The article is a set of three bingo "cards" with words/phrases taken from comments on articles/videos/web content. These are all words that are supposed to shock and appall, and we are advised to have a drink to "numb the pain" when we find one.
I'm pretty sure that the drink part is supposed to be a joke - hopefully the writer isn't actually advocating drinking as a way to deal with emotions. Of course, even as a joke, it is as miserably negative as the title.
Now, some of the words are definitely an issue. I won't argue that I am appalled when someone tells a complete stranger "Kill Yourself". And I understand why some of the words, those that relate to physical appearance, could be seen as an issue. It is definitely frustrating to see how much appearance matters to the media, if you are a woman, and seeing someone reduced to the idea of "fat" or "ugly" as the ultimate insult, well, that's not ok.
Yet, I think that if you take context into account, you will discover that the words are not the problem. That we could create a world where all of these words disappear, but the attitudes still remain, because the words are not the problem.
There seems to be a belief held by a lot of people that words create the world. As a writer, I wish that that was the case. As an optimist, I believe that changing your words can go a long way to changing your mindset. But also as an optimist, I believe that words only have the power we give them. That words are the way we express our thoughts - and that changing out words does not actually change the way we think, it just represents a deeper change in what we are thinking about.
Seeing all these negative words isn't just about misogyny, and claiming it as such is fairly selfish. Assuming that the root of the problem is a hatred for women seems kind of narcissistic, as a gender. It's not hating WOMEN that is the issue. It is simply hate. It is a lack of accountability for the things that we say when we are online, because you don't get to see the reaction. It is a lack of empathy for other people, a lack of awareness, of connectedness. Most worryingly of all, it is the loss of the ability to express oneself accurately, without resorting to mindless insults.
These are issues that need to be resolved at the level of education, of communication, of community. Not by getting angry that some stranger called another stranger a "cunt". By getting angry at the system that created a person with an inability to articulate their thoughts, and without the desire to do so. A system that creates people who believe that their opinion is more important than the feelings of others, and that it is necessary to vomit out every thought that passes through their head. And yes, I am aware of the irony of that sentence, as a blogger.
At the end of the day, its not about women. It's not about women as victims, or men as women-haters. And really, if you think it is, I invite you to peruse the cam rooms of male models. These are words and phrases that the average cam girl hears a hundred times a day. They are also words and phrases that the average cam-GUY hears just as much. I mean, not, TITS OR GTFO. But the phrase DICK OR GTFO gets thrown about. In fact, random insults, death threats, suggestions to suicide....these are just the tip of the iceberg. It may still be men flinging the mud, but they are flinging mud at other men.
Misogyny my ass.
Full Article Here
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