This past weekend, I went to Slutwalk NYC. I could talk about what an incredible, inspiring experience it was. I could talk about how I did feel conflicted about what I saw as certain gaps between theory and practice of the movement. I could write a lot of things about the experience. But there has already been a lot written about Slutwalk – on this blog and many, manyothers.
So, instead of writing about Slutwalk, I want to show you. I want to share the pictures I took there, so if you didn’t get a chance to attend a Slutwalk, you might be able to get an idea of what it was like.
Keep in mind I’m short, so these aren’t the best shots ever, but I tried …
SlutWalk NYC is today. I’ll be there in my “This Is What A Feminist Looks Like” shirt (that’s what’s up). Hopefully all you NYC-area FBomber’s will be, too!
Jane had pretty poetry
And hands the size of shoes
And swirling inky look-at-me tattoos
On the trophy shelves of her skin
And Jane never thought twice about you
And nor did she digress;
Don’t help me once, just hurt me
less
Yet in the eyes of everyone Jane was a trailer-worthy mess.
And some sweet girls they said things about Jane
How small and suffocating cotton would stick to her skin
How a boy with dark hair and slinky eyes
Boasted about the game and the win-
Yet no one ever seemed to whisper anything poisonous about him.
Friends, teachers, the
do-gooders and world-changers
Her righteous church-community youth leader
Would always have their little snickers of Jane
And that’s what drove her from church.
And no one ever had …
Slut Shaming In High School: Wait Until We’re All On The Same Page
I honestly dislike judgmental people, but I am not going to lie – I have definitely judged people in my life. Hey, I’m not perfect and we all do it to some extent. What really bothers me is when people start to judge each other on how sexually advanced someone is. Prudes are judged for being very conservative (stereotypically) but I think girls that are more involved with guys are judged way harsher. I think slut shaming is stupid and pointless, especially in high school. I am only a sophomore but what I have observed is that girls are called sluts just for making out with boys that aren’t their boyfriends or if things go a little farther than just kissing. But the thing is that people become sexually active …
In 1997, MTV launched a new show called Daria. The show aimed to capture high school through the eyes of a teenage girl, mirroring other popular shows of the decade (My So Called Life, Buffy etc.) which also reflected hormonal, angsty teenage girls as the main protagonists.
The character Daria Morgendorffer, who the show is (obviously) named after, was a character on the popular TV show Beavis and Butthead. Why Beavis and Butthead was popular is beyond me. Every time I’ve tried to watch a segment of this show of gurgling stoners it makes me feel like I’m missing out on the ‘humour.’ Kind of like how I feel watching Two and a Half Men.
Here’s an early appearance of Daria on Beavis and Butthead:
July 31 marks the one-year anniversary of the night I was raped. On August 6, I will be participating in Slutwalk when it comes to Philly. They could not have picked a better date. I find it ironic that the very word that kept me from getting any help that night a year ago is now the very same word that is saving me.
I know that Slutwalk has many critics, and in a way I think that most of it may stem from simple ignorance. I don’t mean this as an insult, but rather that until someone is in the situation of rape, they simply can never understand.
You will never understand the 3 am feeling of laying on the cool tile of the bathroom floor after puking up …
In my eyes, he was perfect in every way. Dreamboy was smart, interesting, had beautiful brown eyes, a charming smile. He was genuinely more interested in girls’ personality than their breasts or butts. I thought Dreamboy was a perfect gentleman, and I loved him more than I’d loved anyone.
Dreamboy had, in his words, “exponentially more” experience than I did. He was a ladykiller, but was friends with many of the girls he’d had relations with. I respected that; he didn’t just “bump and dump” but rather actually took the time to get to know the girls and to keep knowing them after they’d hooked up. Dreamboy was different than any of the other guys I’d known in high school.
Then I told him that I’d hooked up (just kissing!) …
Tonight I spoke with the grandfather of a friend of mine after a basketball game. The game had just ended, and we were standing around, waiting for the team to emerge from the locker room, making the usual sort of losing team whiny small talk that one might expect, when a cheerleader walked by. We had seen her all night, selling raffle tickets, flirting with the guys’ team, doing her cheer thing, but mostly, we saw her wearing that uniform.
Now at the end of the game, she’s walking to her locker room, minding her own business, and this sweet little old man looks at me and comments, “I guess she likes that uniform.” “Uh I guess so” was all I could say, not really feeling …
