Survival may seem like a drastic way to describe the experience of living in a modern Western society, however sexist it is. I have the privilege of geography to thank for the fact that I don’t face an arranged marriage or a ban on education as many other women do. However this shouldn’t stop us from talking about and acting on the challenges we still face. “Survival” may not seem like such an extreme word when we consider the leading cause of death for pregnant women in the US is murder. Anyone in doubt that an ability to negotiate sexism is a sadly vital skill need only look to one recurring symbol of patriarchal power: street harassment.
It’s an assertion of power, a threat described as flattery, a small reminder …
When I was twelve, I was the only person I knew of who knew people who had been affected by sexual abuse. When it had been disclosed to me, I didn’t know what to do with the information, and didn’t even write about it in my journal. Until high school, the only person I told was my best friend, and we talked about it only once. Twelve year olds tend to not know what to do with that kind of stuff. As I got older, the number of people that I knew who had been affected by sexual abuse, unfortunately, grew. In high school I learned that a friend of mine had been sexually abused and was having difficulties dealing with her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, her family, her abuser, …
I love Taylor Swift. According to iTunes, I have listened to her latest CD, Speak Now, 31 times. I have bought every magazine that featured her on the cover in the past two months and read each interview multiple times. I stalk her Twitter account. Basically, I have become a fangirl stereotype.
I know. You’re probably thinking, “Wow, another teenage girl who likes Taylor Swift. How out of the ordinary considering that she is ranked #12 on Forbes’ Powerful Celebrity List and seems to win something at every award show she attends, whether she was nominated or not.” But this has been an interesting experience for me because I have never really looked up to celebrities.
When virtually all of my friends went through a fanatic phase for a …
Eliminating Gender Expectations Starting with the Dorms
“So how is your Women Gender Studies Class? Have you stopped shaving your legs yet?” smiles and bickers a “fellow” male hall-mate of mine as he takes a seat on the couches in our dorm lounge. Oh boy, time to deal with sexist jerks that actually make me want to pretend I am a man-hating feminist stereotype. Since one guy in my dorm found out I was in Women Gender Studies 101, I’m now suddenly responsible for representing all the feminist women out there. But wait, there’s more. Signing up for this class also automatically comes free with the constant taunting and degrading comments from him and a flurry of conformists in the dorms.
“So do you hate men?” Snickers one of the three guys. Somehow every time one of the …
Video games. Sweet, succulent video games. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day . . .?
Um, sorry about that.
Though my gaming experience hardly compares to my brother’s (who I swear was playing Zelda: A Link to the Past in the womb), I still consider myself a full-fledged gamer, and a darn good one at that.
But what does it mean to be a gamer and a girl? “Teenage boy” and “video game fanatic” are often synonymous, but the same can’t be said for someone like myself. In fact, in her article What Women Want, Aleah Tierney suggests that to be a girl and a gamer is to be “a stranger in a strange land . . . a male-created virtual space.”
Brooklyn, NY-based pianist, singer, and songwriter Lia Ices was born and raised in Connecticut, where she began playing piano at the age of five, although she didn’t discover her penchant for songwriting until years later while studying at N.Y.U.’s famed Tisch School of the Arts’ Experimental Theater Wing. Sounding a bit like Tori Amos in a Cat Power world, Ices quickly captured attention in the area, eventually releasing the eight-song album Necima in 2008 with Nicolas Vernhes’ Rare Book Room Records.
what do i dream of, while i’m lying alone in my bed,
swallowed by the darkness,
comforted only by the branches whispering into my window
i can’t fall asleep.
i see the faces, of all the girls
who have slipped through the barrier of our planet
see them crying, see them screaming
see them gasping and thrashing
i see them so well,
it is almost as if the images are being projected onto the dark ceiling
and i can’t fall asleep.
the feeling suffocates me, grabs me
its strong fingers tearing at my skin,
letting the darkness get to me.
my ears buzz, my throat starts closing
and i squeeze my eyes as tight as i can
knowing if i let tears stream down my flushed face,
it’s a sign …
