Fun and Easy Ways to Stop Slut-Shaming in 2013

4 Jan

Hey.

Happy New Year.

I’d like to add another resolution to your 2013 self-improvement plan. Ready for it? No more slut-shaming!

Some of you may read this and automatically think: “But wait…. why? Sluts are bad, aren’t they? And shameful! SHAME THEM! SLUTS!!!” And if you did, sit the entire fuck down and let’s have a chat about that. For those of you who thought: “Oh, I don’t slut-shame. I just think it’s REALLY bad when girls, like, just have all this sex with dudes that aren’t even their boyfriends, y’know?” You also need to sit down, right beside that other asshole.

Just to make it clear: slut-shaming is the act of making someone – usually a woman – feel guilty and/or inferior for engaging in sexual behaviour that violates traditional gender expectations. For women, that usually means those who became sexually active at an early age, those who have had multiple partners and those who engage in casual sex. Okay?

Besides the fact that judging other people instead of worrying about yourself makes you a useless asshole who contributes literally nothing to society, here are the two main reasons why slut-shaming is bad:

  • It populates victim blaming, which is one of the stupidest fucking concepts that has ever plagued us humans. Victim blaming is exactly what it sounds like: blaming the victim of sexual abuse instead of THE PERSON WHO SEXUALLY ABUSED THEM. It means accusing them of doing something, saying something or wearing something that somehow invited their attacker to come abuse them, thus making it their fault. Let’s make it as clear as possible here: not wearing a short skirt and not having that sixth shot of tequila is not what needs to happen for a woman to avoid being raped. What needs to happen for a woman to avoid being raped is for MEN TO STOP RAPING WOMEN.
  • It prevents unity between women, which makes us weaker in a society that is out to divide and conquer. We are constantly being conditioned to fear and judge the sexuality of other women which achieves two very detrimental things: it makes us jealous and competitive towards our fellow women and fuels our own personal insecurity, making us far more susceptible to this type of shit and therefore easier to control.

And just because I want to make it as EASY AS POSSIBLE for you to be a better fucking human being this year, here are some fun and easy ways for you to stop slut-shaming in 2013:

  • Do you personally know the woman you’re calling a slut? Is she putting herself in danger? Do you think she may possibly need help? Maybe try talking to her about it. Y’know… like a friend, instead of a passive-aggressive asshole.
  • Do you NOT personally know the woman you’re calling a slut? Maybe try shutting up. Everyone has a story. You don’t know hers. She doesn’t know yours. Respect that fact. Go read a book instead.
  • Think about your own relationship with sex and intimacy. What does slut-shaming reflect about your own insecurities, your own self-worth, your own experience? Make a pie chart. Followed by a real pie, as a reward for analyzing yourself instead of others.
  • Stop using the word slut. Reconsider how you let society effortlessly control you through language. Focus on words that are fucking awesome like “ominous” or “crescendo” or “fuck” instead of words that reinforce this toxic, subtle and stubborn attack against an entire gender.

My friends. I hope you will join us in this crusade and I would love to hear your thoughts.

Here’s to a 2013 free of slut-shame.

S.

Ones versus Fives

10 Oct

While I was out for wings with a friend of mine recently, she told me a story about a camping trip she and her boyfriend had recently gone on with a group of other couples; August Long Weekend, if you give a fuck. The interesting thing about this particular group of couples on this camping trip, was that they were all in different stages: you had your newly-coupled, and you had your “I stopped caring two years ago.” The way my friend, being with her boyfriend for five years, said it as she watched the couples who had clearly been together one year or less – you had your ones versus your fives. 

Ones. Oh, to be in the throes of the ones. The stage where you’re actually aware of whether or not you need to shave your legs at any given moment, and you still pervertedly enjoy doing nice things for the other person. You know … because you like them. 

Fives. By now you’ve learned exactly what pisses the other person off, and on a good day you actually try to avoid doing that. You’ve tested so many boundaries that you’re legitimately more disgusting around that person than you are alone. 

Now, as I’m sure you can imagine, I can’t stop labeling couples as I walk around just living life. For instance, I’ll see a guy shopping with a girl, holding her hand and (here’s the giveaway) smiling. Ones. I’ll turn the corner and see two people who clearly haven’t showered in at least two days silently eating an obscene amount of food in the food court together … fives. 

My problem is, I don’t want to become a five, but I don’t want to always stay a one; I think the ideal to get to is a two or a three. Like, you guys can laugh about a poorly (or well, depending on your point of view) timed fart, but details never, EVER have to be given after anything has happened behind closed doors … ever. I won’t wake up to put makeup on before you, but I’ll at least shave my legs if I’m wearing a dress. Comfortable enough to call the other person out on their shit, but still smitten enough to overlook the stupid little things.

Yep. Aim for the middle, people. 

 

Give Thanks

7 Oct

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving.

That’s right Americans, you’re not the only ones. We get a day off work to celebrate the colonial conquering of land belonging to the indigenous First Nations’ population too. SAY SOMETHING.

Well, sort of. There’s a lot of debate on what Canadian Thanksgiving was originally created to celebrate. Apparently, Lower Canada and Upper Canada used to observe it on different dates to celebrate different things. Even after Canada became one big ole nation, Thanksgiving was celebrated on different dates for different reasons. And then in 1957, the government was all like HEAR YE, MOTHERFUCKERS. Let’s just do this thing on the second Monday of every October, okay?! Okay. And here we are.

Now that I’ve blessed you with that infallible history lesson, here’s a list of things I’m thankful for today:

  • Summer being over. The heat is nice, but that humidity can get the entire fuck outta my face. Do you know what it’s like to wake up with a sweat mustache? Because I do.
  • The first frantic, feverish, unforgettable stages of infatuation.
  • Literally everything that is going on in this music video.
  • Air travel. We can fly through the sky, you guys. And a lot of people died trying to make that happen for us. Give thanks.
  • Frank Ocean.
  • Taking off your bra at the end of the day. Or basically whenever.
  • The faces people make when they play instruments.
  • Letting go of someone you’ve been holding on to for way too long. (WARNING: RANT COMING. INSTRUCTIONS: DEAL WITH IT.) You cannot change people into who you think they should be. Even if you’re trying to help them turn into a version of themselves you believe they deserve and have the ability to become, that is not your call to make nor your evolution to inspire. Especially not at the cost of your own emotional well being. In the words of one of my wisest friends, you are not virgin soil for their training wheels. And in the words of ME, do not sacrifice your emotional intelligence and waste it on someone who simply needs to develop their own.
  • Going pee, when you really need to pee.
  • Radiolab podcasts.
  • Whiskey. Except for when it makes me emotional.
  • The smell of an old book.
  • Wrapping your hands around a warm drink on a cold day. And by drink I mean dick. JUST KIDDING. Not kidding though, those things are always warm.
  • Going HAM in a fantasy sports league of any type when you have a vagina. I know that both K. and I have experience with this and let me tell you… there is no sweeter satisfaction.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an important date with my 4th bottle of beer and this pot of miso mushroom gravy. What are you thankful for, bruh?

S.

This is Why I’m Single

21 Sep

So, I’m newly single. Well, not really “newly,” but finally beyond the stage where every single song/TV show/movie/joke/reference/smell/taste/the action of breathing reminds me of him, and the stage where I feel like even my food has abandoned me after I’m done eating it. So I guess I’m just newly back to society and being as normal as a girl with a group of friends that openly describe themselves as badgers (probably the least attractive animal a girl can associate herself with – we’re not your typical Playboy/Snow/Puck Bunnies, that’s for sure) can be.

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The best part of this has been re-connecting with my friends and my passions, for sure. I also live alone now (unless you count my cat) which has been the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. I eat in my bed, I watch ALLLLLLL the crappy TV I want, and I hog the shower. Bliss.

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The worst part? The sea. As in, the sea that holds all those “fish” I’ve been hearing about during my past seven years of monogamy. I was told it was like a buffet of men to choose from, and the most fun I’ll ever have. What I’ve found is that it’s more like a typical Christmas party buffet, two hours after everybody has eaten and the cheese is starting to sweat: you’ll only eat it if you’re REALLY drunk and REALLY lonely. The following actually happened to me … and this is why I’m still single.

1.) After making my breakup real (aka making it real on Facebook), a man I used to work with approached me to express interest. I had never really thought about this before, but thought, “Hey, at the very least we’re friends, and it could be a fun night out to just catch up.” So I suggested a beer at a local pub. His reply? “So, is that place expensive? I’m not exactly ‘rich,’ as they say. How about you just come over to my place?” Really? Really. I’m not a coin-chaser, but there are so many things wrong with this:

  • You basically just told me I’m not even worth $5.95 to you, and honestly, that’s just for your OWN beer. I would have gladly bought my own.
  • I haven’t seen you in six years, and you invite me to your place. Yeah … ’cause that doesn’t sound like you want to date rape me while your roomie films it or anything.
  • WORST BANTER EVER. I live for wit. So, sorry bud. CUT.

2.) During a night out on the town with some of my girlfriends, a 23-year-old boy (I say boy because I’m the old and dreadful age of 27) tries to pick me up in line by quoting Wayne’s World and Chappelle’s Show. So far? Very excited about this prospect. Nice smile, great banter, super confident. Up until he starting miming masturbating to the thought of me while choking himself out. Yup. THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO ME.

3.) Being approached by dudes who honestly think that yelling the word “HOT” in my general direction will somehow be like casting a fishing line and hoping to catch something. Like, seriously?I put in the effort to:

  • Shave my legs
  • Tweeze my eyebrows
  • Straighten/curl/put up my hair (and there’s a lot of it so this is no easy task)
  • If I’m feeling particularly confident, taking care of down there (nothing is more enticing than the thought of standing on one leg in the shower with a razor butt in your mouth putting 1,345 pounds of shaving cream in your palms and saying a prayer to whatever you believe in that you have steady hands)
  • Putting on makeup
  • Putting on something that walks the line between trendy/slutty/doesn’t try too hard (actually VERY hard to do)
  • Brushing and flossing (yes, I’m counting this, because I cannot believe how many men out there seem to have forgotten this long lost art … aka BASIC HYGIENE)

and so on. So, if you want a pretty girl, seriously, put .001 seconds of thought into it. PLEASE. Or else you can have an extremely hairy chick with bad teeth and steez. Up to you.

Here’s hoping my travels through this sea full of stinky fish catch me a quality tuna here soon. Because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

(me … soon)

K.

Adam Carolla Said Some Things

23 Jun

A lot of people have been asking me about my thoughts on Adam Carolla’s recent remarks about women not being as funny as men. I guess I’ve made them laugh a few times and happen to have a vagina, which makes them assume I’ll have some well thought out diatribe that is equal parts empowering and gut-busting. The truth is that my thoughts on this are really all over the place, but I’m going to do my best to sum them up and entertain you while I’m at it. DANCE MONKEY, DANCE.

You ain’t funny, bitch!

If you missed it, here’s what he said:

The lesson you learned from a sexual harassment seminar was “Don’t hire chicks.” Do you hate working with women?

No. But they make you hire a certain number of chicks, and they’re always the least funny on the writing staff. The reason why you know more funny dudes than funny chicks is that dudes are funnier than chicks. If my daughter has a mediocre sense of humor, I’m just gonna tell her, “Be a staff writer for a sitcom. Because they’ll have to hire you, they can’t really fire you, and you don’t have to produce that much. It’ll be awesome.”

The “are women funny” debate has grown very contentious. You’re not worried about reactions to this?

I don’t care. When you’re picking a basketball team, you’ll take the brother over the guy with the yarmulke. Why? Because you’re playing the odds. When it comes to comedy, of course there’s Sarah Silverman, Tina Fey, Kathy Griffin — super-funny chicks. But if you’re playing the odds? No.

If Joy Behar or Sherri Shepherd was a dude, they’d be off TV. They’re not funny enough for dudes. What if Roseanne Barr was a dude? Think we’d know who she was? Honestly.

(Read the whole thing on the New York Post.)

Okay. Believe it or not, I think I actually might understand what he’s saying here. But let me try to paraphrase more tactfully and less like a sexist piece of shit. By the numbers it really does appear that there are more “funny” men than women, so I completely understand how this would lead his simple little brain to the conclusion that this must be because men are inherently funnier than women.

I’m not going to try and take Adam’s experiences away from him. I have no doubt that he has come across women who tell shitty jokes and have been hired to work as writers on a show simply because they are women. Good. He should hold us bleeders up to the same standards that he has for men. But instead of asking why this happens and trying to change it, he actually believes that it’s because women aren’t as funny as men. Like… by nature. As if there’s something wired into the ‘Y’ chromosome that inevitably makes your jokes funnier than ours. Which is hilarious. ADAM CAROLLA YOU ARE SO GOOD AT JOKES!!!!

Humor is subjective to personal taste (not to mention circumstance, environment, culture, etc) and this alone renders statements like “dudes are funnier than chicks” completely invalid. So to state it as an ubiquitous fact while completely ignoring or respecting the context as to WHY this is the case is what moves this whole issue from personal opinion (totally cool, carry on) to disrespectful and offensive (not cool, go fuck yourself).

So let’s look at the possible reasons as to why Adam Carolla, in all his wisdom and expertise, has possibly not been exposed to as many funny women as he has funny men:

Comedy is a safe space for men to exert the traits they are encouraged to develop from birth. Be loud, be strong, stand out and exert your power. Don’t apologize and offend people if you have to. Girls, however, are socially conditioned from childhood to be pleasant, pretty and polite. Make friends. Be welcoming and nurturing. Listen. Don’t yell. None of these things are conducive to a standup comedy routine.

The majority of female comics excel in very specific ways in one of two categories. One is self-deprecating humor; jokes that revolve around how awkward and/or lonely and/or single we are, eating our feelings and living with cats.  The other is overly sexual and graphic. Vibrators! One night stands! Menstruation! Small dicks!

(Of course, in no way am I saying that there are no male comics who lean on the crutch of self-deprecation (because that would be a wildly ignorant and inaccurate generalization, right Adam?). Many do. It’s one of the easiest forms of successful comedy, because people feel extremely comfortable laughing at someone who is laughing at themselves.)

But the problem with women falling into one – or both – of these categories (besides making you a one-dimension comic) is twofold. Both of these are tailored to the female experience and not the human experience in general, as if we are afraid to develop a sense of humor that DOESN’T revolve around being a woman for fear of being de-feminized and therefore not desirable. And because men don’t identify with many parts of the female experience (whereas women live every single day under the umbrella of the male experience) they don’t get the jokes. Or at least don’t find them as funny as other women do.

The second problem with getting stuck in these categories is that it perpetuates negativity towards women and reinforces stereotypes. Because women are not inherently encouraged by society to be as self-assured and confident as men are, our self-deprecating jokes are a dangerous way for men to laugh at the societal expectations that hold us down. Self-deprecating jokes about being single reinforce the idea that single women are pathetic and unhappy. Jokes about sleeping with someone you just met reinforce the idea that women who have sex whenever and with whoever they want are whores. Both of these categories also, in their own way, are rife with slut-shaming and feminine chauvinism, pitting women against women. But that’s another blog post.

It takes a lot of balls (pardon the horribly inappropriate pun) to walk up to a microphone in front of people and do ANYTHING, let alone try to tell jokes. Stand up comedy is the one art form in which people’s dissatisfaction or disapproval with your work is immediately made known to you in the form of silence. Most comedy clubs are run by men and there is an intimidation effect that probably deters a lot of women from trying it out. Women have not been bred to take criticism, and any comic will tell you that the industry revolves around it. This isn’t your problem though, Adam Carolla, this is our problem. And we’re aware of it. Well… at least some of us are.

I’ve only scratched the surface of the many, many layers that exist when it comes to this issue and I would REALLY like to know what you all think. For now, all I know for sure is that both sides are responsible for making a change. As women, we’re still working towards stripping the world of the compartments that we’ve long been forced to fit into. We won’t change that immediately and we won’t change that without the help of men. But what we can do is stop being so afraid. Stop being afraid to be fucking funny. Let go of your fear and realize the power that you have in humor. Always push yourself and those around you. Encourage your funny friends to start writing a blog or go to an open mic night. But most importantly, don’t sit there quietly when someone tells you what you (and your gender) are or are not.

S.

I Need to Laugh

12 Jun

Maybe it’s sick, but after being dumped, nothing cheers me up like watching ridiculously skinny and pretty girls bail. Over, and over again.

Hey, Working Girls.

27 May

Hi, so remember when I used to write blog posts?

Me neither, BUT WAIT. Here I am, spending my Sunday afternoon with my laptop burning my legs (I’m not wearing pants), trying to rectify my wrongs with you good people. Although I’m not sure “good people” is the most accurate term, since 98% of our blog traffic is still coming from people searching the internet for pictures and videos of women pooping.

The funny thing is that if you search all the posts on this blog that I’ve written, at least five of them are basically just me apologizing for my extended absences. So I’m not going to do that. In fact, I don’t unnecessarily apologize for anything and you shouldn’t either. Read this post from Apocalypstick and cut it out, okay?

It’s especially difficult not to be a passive-aggressive, excessively-apologizing doormat at work. When you’re a young woman in the early stages of your career it seems like the only way to success is either by kissing ass or showing it off.

Even writing simple emails is a struggle sometimes. Either I feel like I’m coming across like a harsher version of the woman who hosts The Weakest Link:

Get it to me by end of day. Thanks. (Also, as I’m sure you can tell by my use of hard periods, I hate you.)

Or I come across like a desperate and spineless 14-year-old:

Is it possible to get this by the end of the day? If not, totally cool! Either is good! Even though it means I’ll have to do more work that is not my responsibility! Just let me know! ~eXcLaMaTiOn MaRkS!~ Ok, thanks! Happy Friday! :)

Finally, I settle on something that I hope is the perfect blend between confident, yet kind:

I’ll need it by end of day, please. Thanks!

And then I hate myself because I realize I just spent 20 minutes writing a nine word email. But such is life in the 21st century, where the majority of our human interaction is done in bits and bytes (LOL GET IT? COMPUTERZ.) and our intentions often misinterpreted thanks to irrelevant details such as comma use or period placement. And such is life as a successful woman in her late twenties, learning how to not take shit with a smile.

S.

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