Feminist Problems

"Our movement’s name isn’t actually Feminism but in truth, the League of Bitter Misandrist Hags Who Burn Phalluses in Effigy Nightly and Wake Ourselves Up With a Fresh Vial of Male Tears in the morning. LOBMHWBPIENWOUWFVMT is a doozy of an acronym. You can see why we changed it to feminism to begin with."
— 4 months ago with 335 notes
"I’m tired of talking about feminism to men. I’m tired of explaining to men that the feminist movement will, in fact, benefit them as well as women. I’m tired of trying to hawk gender equality like I’m some kind of car salesman showing off a shiny new sedan, explaining all of its bells and whistles. I’m tired of smiling through a thousand thoughtless microaggressions, tired of providing countless pieces of evidence, tired of being questioned on every. single. damn. thing. I’m tired of proving that microaggressions exist, tired of proving that I’m unfairly questioned and asked for proof. For a movement that’s centered around the advancement and empowerment of women, why do I feel like I’m supposed to spend so damn much of my time carefully considering how what I say and do will be taken by men?"
— 4 months ago with 664 notes
"

When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”

When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.

When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”

(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)

When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.

I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.

No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.

I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.

So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:

In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.

"
r.d.    (via tiredestprincess)

(Source: elferinge, via absurdlyawkward)

— 5 months ago with 123598 notes
#rape  #sexual assault  #trigger warning  #rape culture  #tw: rape 
roadtrips101 asked: I googled "ask a feminist" to ask this question because I'm not the most well-versed in the rhetoric, and found this blog. Here's my question: Upon telling a female friend of mine that I feel like an asshole when I hook up with women (because it is easier for me to do the less I care about someone), I was called out on perceiving women as fragile and prude (as a whole). Would you consider this accusation to be true based on my original reasoning?


Answer:

Hello! I am a feminist, but no expert feminist. So, I’m sure you’ve found that there’s quite a bit of variation within the category “feminist” (or if you haven’t, then, now you know). SO in my non-expert take on the matter, I would say that viewing the situation as so gendered isn’t necessary. I don’t think gender in this case matters much because between men, women, and non-binary individuals, no category is more sensitive/prude/emotional/etc than any other category…so I think the issue is trying to ensure that communication is clear. People’s feelings do get hurt when they’re looking for something more than a hook up when the other person is not…but I don’t think that’s just along gendered lines! Communication is probably more relevant in preventing problems than anything else since these issues arise in any type of relationship (hetero/homo/everything outside and inbetween). I think it makes sense to worry that you may hurt someone when potential feelings are involved, but, because they are a person…not because they are a woman. Again, just my take on the matter! I hope all is well with you! 

— 5 months ago
#roadtrips101  #ask  #hehe ask a feminist I like that 

absurdlyawkward:

Hellooooo Followers! I have a favor to ask of you.

The last post on cyberfeminism was created by my little sister for a computer culture class. She is supposed to get as many notes as possible so I’m trying to help her out and hope you will too.

Please like or reblog the post (or both)!

Link to the original post: http://captainfallon.tumblr.com/post/49312949886/feminism-has-taken-its-own-form-online-this

Thank you!

— 1 year ago with 4 notes

captainfallon:

    Feminism has taken its own form online, this is not to say that feminist protests are nonexistent today, or that either is more powerful than the other. But rather that there has been a change in the feminist community where it has been residing on online spaces, such as tumblr, or twitter. The option to organize and exist online hadn’t been available when the feminist movement started, but in ways can be better (or worse) than protests.


“Feminism online is entirely normalized. It’s pervasive. A generation of young women are growing up with feminism as the default in women’s online spaces, and explicitly feminist blogs and communities at their fingertips.” (x)

— 1 year ago with 29 notes
#feminism  #internet  #feminist  #protest  #change  #justice  #gender 
10 Compliments Men Hate Getting by Jenna Birch →

A Feminist Problem: Articles like this. 

Oh noez keep ur gossipy femouth shut ladiez, othurwise his boiz may find out n’ teeze him 2 death. 

UGHHHHHH.

Not only is it essentializing and heteronormative, but also tries to say that women should basically just shut up unless they’re feeding a man’s ego in  a way that won’t ever possibly embarrass him. Oh okay. Thanks for your advice, Jenna Birch. 

— 1 year ago with 1 note
#even worse is that this is trending on facebook  #deer god  #feminism  #feminist  #article  #relationships  #problem