My writing class is amazing! Maybe not the class itself so much, but its inspiring me to write again and reviving my confidence in myself as a writer. Its ironic because this is the class I was dreading the most and now its the one I'm most excited about. I think its this in combination with my new roommate, who is an amazing writer, all I want to do is sit in my room, my dogs at my feet, and write anything and everything that comes into my brain, then try to squeeze out more because this sponge in my head needs to get drained.
Yesterday in my writing class two amazing things happened. Number one, my instructor assigned my friend Chelsey's blog for our reading homework! Amazing!
Then our instructor put the following words on the board:
barn dress cow fire red girl pen
and wanted us to use one or more of the words to write a descriptive paragraph revolving around the interaction between two people. The only catch was, like the words above, the paragraph could only contain one-syllable words. We had 5 minutes to do it. This is what I wrote:
The smell of the fire fills my nose and takes me back to the barn in my mind. Ash and smoke sway in the sky in that way that plays with the stars, like they are a band that plays just for me to the beat of my own heart. I turn, my back to the fire and to you. I don't want to see the light dance on your face, the light makes your face soft and you are hard. Its not your fault, I know who you are. You are like the fire, in front of me but just out of reach.
I was really satisfied with what I wrote, especially under the 5 minute time limit. It was fun and it reminded me how much I like writing exercises like this, even though they can seem silly sometimes. Occasionally, they can also be seedlings for something spectacular.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Hair we go
I'm going to get my haircut today. I've needed to get a haircut for a couple of weeks now but for some reason I'm having a lot of anxiety around it. It was so much easier when I was keeping my head clean shaven. But, I'm determined to have hair on my head, for a while anyway.
I've never been into my hair. Most of my life, I've hated it. When I was 6 I started begging my mom to let me cut my hair. Short. Like a boys. Of course, my parents refused, my mom insisting it would be a mistake and I would be ugly with short hair but when I was 8, I finally convinced my mom to take me to get a hair cut. My first ever. My hair, at this point, would swish against the waistband of the skirts I was forced to wear and usually, I wore it in two thick braids that would flank my head and heavy, like anchors keeping me tied to being a girl.
One Saturday we drove into town and walked into a salon with awful floresent lighting and the nauseating smell of ammonia and cheap shampoo. There were only ladies in that salon, which irritated me. I had imagined I'd walk into a barbershop with wood panelling, maybe a mounted deer head over the door of the bathroom and the familiar sound of a twanging steel guitar on the radio. The barber would chuckle and greet me, pull me up into the worn, brown leather chair and chop all my hair off. It would be like that scene in the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy walks out of a world comprised of shades of gray and into a world of Technicolor dreams, only my dreams were made of Little League and Boy Scouts.
The reality was, I was here, with my mom, in a shop that was geared towards ladies in their late 30's and older. Much older. Blue hair older. I wanted to leave but my mom insisted we stay because I had made such a big deal about it, so now I was getting my hair cut, like it or not.
I slid onto the chair, made of vinyl that was slightly cracking. I knew this woman in front of me wouldn't give me the Tom Sawyer haircut of my dreams. "I want it really short," I told her as she draped an apron over my chest, the tips of her fingernails with chipping red polish scratching my neck as she tied the strings in place. She laughed. "Oh, honey, we don't want you to look like a boy now do we?"
I fought back tears as she began dismantling the braids my mom wove with my hair that morning. I kept my eyes closed the whole time and tried to focus on the sound of the scissors opening and closing but could hear my mom whispering instructions to the lady. When I opened my eyes, I saw a mountain of black hair that had fallen to my feet and it seemed like she was cutting off so much, I began to get hopeful. Maybe this lady would be my magical fairy godmother, with huge silver sheers for a wand, maybe she will actually listen to me and I'll get to walk out of here with hair I can finally be proud of. Maybe.
"All done, honey!" She announced proudly. "You sure had a lot of hair, it was almost a shame to cut it all off like that!"
I looked up as she swiveled the chair toward the mirror. Oh. My. God. This woman BUTCHERED my hair. She didn't give me that hair cut I wanted at all! Now, on top of my head, was what can only be described as a curly mullet. That's right, this woman gave me a curly mullet two weeks before the new school year was supposed to start. If I had a picture, I'd show you. Today, a curly mullet is ironic, almost trendy in that hipster sort of way but as an 8 year old kid in Kansas who was in their second month of wearing glasses, this was tragic.
I immediately started crying and looked up at my mom.
"See what I told you?" She said harshly. "You should learn to listen to your mother."
Looking back I wonder if she instructed the beautician to give me such a horrible haircut so I would be so horrified by it that I would never cut my hair again, i.e. never go for the boy hair cut I longed for.
After this, my parents again refused to let me cut my hair. Everytime I'd bring it up, my mom would remind me of the Disasterous Haircut Incident of 1987. So, from then on, I just let my hair keep growing and growing. When it would start to journey past my waistband, my mom would trim a few inches herself. I was not rebellious enough to take the scissors and chop it all of in the bathroom, man I wish I was that kind of kid though.
In high school, I basically looked like Slash from Guns N Roses, refusing to take care of my long, curly hair and usually wearing a bandana (headband style, not skull cap style) around my head to keep it from getting into my eyes. My mom hated this but didn't say much after I told her "You won't let me cut it but you can't make me take care of it." In her eyes, the alternative, a short hair cut, was much worse than the mess my long hair became.
When I moved out of my parents house to go to college in Minneapolis, I didn't chop all my hair off right away. It was actually the last thing my mom said to me before I got on the plane at the Kansas City airport. "Don't go cutting your hair off, ok? Promise me?" She seemed so desperate, I promised her I wouldn't, even though I knew it was a lie. But for some reason, I didn't do it immediately, like I always thought I would. I was away from home in this ginormous city and being gay all over the place, feeling more and more distant from my parents and from the life I knew as a kid and even though I had been planning my escape since I was 4 years old, a part of me was scared to "grow up." Cutting my hair all off, doing what I'd always wanted to do, would mean that I was completely independent from my parents.
It took me about 6 months before I finally made an appointment with someone to cut my hair off. I went to this amazing older butch dyke that my friend Teri recommended. I knew she would know what to do. Her shop was very cool, kind of dark with shiny oak counters and black leather barber chairs. She had a buzzcut, a ton of tattoos and was listening to Ani DiFranco when I walked in. Hella gay.
I watched as she made the first cut, removing a large section of thick, curly hair from the right side of my head. The umbilical chord had finally been cut. As she was clearcutting the black forest on top of my head, I told her how I'd always wanted to have short hair and of the Disasterous Haircut Incident of 1987. She laughed knowingly. I can't even quantify the excitement I felt when she started using the clippers. That buzzing in my ear was like when you have a song stuck in your head, but you can't remember the name of it and then one day you hear it on the radio and you're like "YES! Finally!" It was like that. When she was done, she turned me toward the mirror. "What do you think?"
I reached my left hand up and touched the back of my clean shaven neck and let my fingers run through the small waves that were on top of my head that had replaced the long locks I'd resented my whole life. "I think my mom is going to hate it.... its perfect!"
Thanks to my genetics, I did not have the disheveled boy haircut that I'd always dreamed about, but it was short and very masculine, which was what I wanted.
Now, with my new haircut, the short cut I'd always wanted, I looked soooooo gay. And my gayness was suddenly visible to the rest of the world. It was exciting to my 19 year old self, all I had to do to let everyone know that I was gay was walk out the door. A little scary, but definitely more exciting. I suddenly had this confidence I never had before, noticed how I was walking differently, swaggering even. All this from a haircut? Man, I should have done this YEARS ago, I thought to myself one morning as I massaged some pomade into my scalp.
Needless to say, my mom was NOT happy. I told her by sending her a picture. She called me crying, reminding me of my promise at the airport 6 months earlier. "You knew I would do this, come on," I told her, unapologetic about my new 'do.
I pretty much had that haircut for a couple of years. When I moved to Portland, I began cutting my hair into a mohawk, which I had for several years until I finally began just keeping it clean shaven. Which was easy. But after a while, had become boring.
So now I have (for lack of a better description) basically a "faux hawk" going on. That term kind of makes me want to gag, but that's probably the best way to describe it. I don't know exactly what I'm going for but I know I want the tail at the end of the "hawk" part to grow out. I was so irritated the last time I went to get a hair cut and I specifically told the stylist NOT to cut the tail off and he did anyway. Argh. Since I've been growing my hair, he's the only stylist I've gone to but the last couple of times, I wasn't too happy about the work that he did. He's a friend of mine and I didn't say anything because its not like he could put it back on. I haven't gotten my hair cut since, which leads us back to today. What if I go to someone else, get my hair cut and then see my friend? Will it be awkward? Will we have to process? What if this new hair stylist cuts off my tail? I was talking to Evan about this and he said that the last time he went in for a hair cut, he specifically told the person not to cut the end of his hair off and the only reason it didn't happen is because Jodi was there and saved his tail from being added to the pile of hair on the floor. Do I need to bring a bodyguard for my tail? Why am I freaking out about this?
Well, I've made the decision. I'm going to try Bishops on Alberta. I mean, I am on a budget here. Wish me luck.
I've never been into my hair. Most of my life, I've hated it. When I was 6 I started begging my mom to let me cut my hair. Short. Like a boys. Of course, my parents refused, my mom insisting it would be a mistake and I would be ugly with short hair but when I was 8, I finally convinced my mom to take me to get a hair cut. My first ever. My hair, at this point, would swish against the waistband of the skirts I was forced to wear and usually, I wore it in two thick braids that would flank my head and heavy, like anchors keeping me tied to being a girl.
One Saturday we drove into town and walked into a salon with awful floresent lighting and the nauseating smell of ammonia and cheap shampoo. There were only ladies in that salon, which irritated me. I had imagined I'd walk into a barbershop with wood panelling, maybe a mounted deer head over the door of the bathroom and the familiar sound of a twanging steel guitar on the radio. The barber would chuckle and greet me, pull me up into the worn, brown leather chair and chop all my hair off. It would be like that scene in the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy walks out of a world comprised of shades of gray and into a world of Technicolor dreams, only my dreams were made of Little League and Boy Scouts.
The reality was, I was here, with my mom, in a shop that was geared towards ladies in their late 30's and older. Much older. Blue hair older. I wanted to leave but my mom insisted we stay because I had made such a big deal about it, so now I was getting my hair cut, like it or not.
I slid onto the chair, made of vinyl that was slightly cracking. I knew this woman in front of me wouldn't give me the Tom Sawyer haircut of my dreams. "I want it really short," I told her as she draped an apron over my chest, the tips of her fingernails with chipping red polish scratching my neck as she tied the strings in place. She laughed. "Oh, honey, we don't want you to look like a boy now do we?"
I fought back tears as she began dismantling the braids my mom wove with my hair that morning. I kept my eyes closed the whole time and tried to focus on the sound of the scissors opening and closing but could hear my mom whispering instructions to the lady. When I opened my eyes, I saw a mountain of black hair that had fallen to my feet and it seemed like she was cutting off so much, I began to get hopeful. Maybe this lady would be my magical fairy godmother, with huge silver sheers for a wand, maybe she will actually listen to me and I'll get to walk out of here with hair I can finally be proud of. Maybe.
"All done, honey!" She announced proudly. "You sure had a lot of hair, it was almost a shame to cut it all off like that!"
I looked up as she swiveled the chair toward the mirror. Oh. My. God. This woman BUTCHERED my hair. She didn't give me that hair cut I wanted at all! Now, on top of my head, was what can only be described as a curly mullet. That's right, this woman gave me a curly mullet two weeks before the new school year was supposed to start. If I had a picture, I'd show you. Today, a curly mullet is ironic, almost trendy in that hipster sort of way but as an 8 year old kid in Kansas who was in their second month of wearing glasses, this was tragic.
I immediately started crying and looked up at my mom.
"See what I told you?" She said harshly. "You should learn to listen to your mother."
Looking back I wonder if she instructed the beautician to give me such a horrible haircut so I would be so horrified by it that I would never cut my hair again, i.e. never go for the boy hair cut I longed for.
After this, my parents again refused to let me cut my hair. Everytime I'd bring it up, my mom would remind me of the Disasterous Haircut Incident of 1987. So, from then on, I just let my hair keep growing and growing. When it would start to journey past my waistband, my mom would trim a few inches herself. I was not rebellious enough to take the scissors and chop it all of in the bathroom, man I wish I was that kind of kid though.
In high school, I basically looked like Slash from Guns N Roses, refusing to take care of my long, curly hair and usually wearing a bandana (headband style, not skull cap style) around my head to keep it from getting into my eyes. My mom hated this but didn't say much after I told her "You won't let me cut it but you can't make me take care of it." In her eyes, the alternative, a short hair cut, was much worse than the mess my long hair became.
When I moved out of my parents house to go to college in Minneapolis, I didn't chop all my hair off right away. It was actually the last thing my mom said to me before I got on the plane at the Kansas City airport. "Don't go cutting your hair off, ok? Promise me?" She seemed so desperate, I promised her I wouldn't, even though I knew it was a lie. But for some reason, I didn't do it immediately, like I always thought I would. I was away from home in this ginormous city and being gay all over the place, feeling more and more distant from my parents and from the life I knew as a kid and even though I had been planning my escape since I was 4 years old, a part of me was scared to "grow up." Cutting my hair all off, doing what I'd always wanted to do, would mean that I was completely independent from my parents.
It took me about 6 months before I finally made an appointment with someone to cut my hair off. I went to this amazing older butch dyke that my friend Teri recommended. I knew she would know what to do. Her shop was very cool, kind of dark with shiny oak counters and black leather barber chairs. She had a buzzcut, a ton of tattoos and was listening to Ani DiFranco when I walked in. Hella gay.
I watched as she made the first cut, removing a large section of thick, curly hair from the right side of my head. The umbilical chord had finally been cut. As she was clearcutting the black forest on top of my head, I told her how I'd always wanted to have short hair and of the Disasterous Haircut Incident of 1987. She laughed knowingly. I can't even quantify the excitement I felt when she started using the clippers. That buzzing in my ear was like when you have a song stuck in your head, but you can't remember the name of it and then one day you hear it on the radio and you're like "YES! Finally!" It was like that. When she was done, she turned me toward the mirror. "What do you think?"
I reached my left hand up and touched the back of my clean shaven neck and let my fingers run through the small waves that were on top of my head that had replaced the long locks I'd resented my whole life. "I think my mom is going to hate it.... its perfect!"
Thanks to my genetics, I did not have the disheveled boy haircut that I'd always dreamed about, but it was short and very masculine, which was what I wanted.
Now, with my new haircut, the short cut I'd always wanted, I looked soooooo gay. And my gayness was suddenly visible to the rest of the world. It was exciting to my 19 year old self, all I had to do to let everyone know that I was gay was walk out the door. A little scary, but definitely more exciting. I suddenly had this confidence I never had before, noticed how I was walking differently, swaggering even. All this from a haircut? Man, I should have done this YEARS ago, I thought to myself one morning as I massaged some pomade into my scalp.
Needless to say, my mom was NOT happy. I told her by sending her a picture. She called me crying, reminding me of my promise at the airport 6 months earlier. "You knew I would do this, come on," I told her, unapologetic about my new 'do.
I pretty much had that haircut for a couple of years. When I moved to Portland, I began cutting my hair into a mohawk, which I had for several years until I finally began just keeping it clean shaven. Which was easy. But after a while, had become boring.
So now I have (for lack of a better description) basically a "faux hawk" going on. That term kind of makes me want to gag, but that's probably the best way to describe it. I don't know exactly what I'm going for but I know I want the tail at the end of the "hawk" part to grow out. I was so irritated the last time I went to get a hair cut and I specifically told the stylist NOT to cut the tail off and he did anyway. Argh. Since I've been growing my hair, he's the only stylist I've gone to but the last couple of times, I wasn't too happy about the work that he did. He's a friend of mine and I didn't say anything because its not like he could put it back on. I haven't gotten my hair cut since, which leads us back to today. What if I go to someone else, get my hair cut and then see my friend? Will it be awkward? Will we have to process? What if this new hair stylist cuts off my tail? I was talking to Evan about this and he said that the last time he went in for a hair cut, he specifically told the person not to cut the end of his hair off and the only reason it didn't happen is because Jodi was there and saved his tail from being added to the pile of hair on the floor. Do I need to bring a bodyguard for my tail? Why am I freaking out about this?
Well, I've made the decision. I'm going to try Bishops on Alberta. I mean, I am on a budget here. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
A new year
There's something that I really enjoy about my birthday being so close to New Year's and in the dead of winter. Usually its kind of a drag having a birthday so close to Christmas and being upstaged by Jesus. My friends are gone or distracted by family, a reminder that I don't have a relationship with my biological family, which I can deal with most other times of the year, but there's this visceral reaction that I think many of us have about "the holidays" whether we want to or not.
This birthday was upstaged by Arctic Blast 2008. Things didn't go as planned (do they ever??) and I spent more time at the Florida Room my birthday weekend than I care to admit, but what was wonderful was that my friends totally rallied and braved being covered in sheets of ice to come out for birthday celebrations.
Now that "the holidays" have passed and I'm settling back into a schedule filled with schoolwork and study dates, I am enjoying the newness of so much in my life. A new year, just turned 30, a couple of new friendships that I'm really excited about, the sharp air fills my lungs in the morning and wakes me in a way that is both assaulting and inspiring. My lungs, my lungs, my lungs began to hurt last week and I decided to stop smoking. It will be a week tomorrow and my lungs still hurt as the tissue starts to repair itself. I won't say that I quit smoking, I prefer to say "I'm not smoking right now" because it doesn't sound as scary and final as "quit." The truth is, I really like smoking, I miss it. I also know that I would be in pain if I smoked a cigarette right now and I actually cried the other day about not being able to smoke. Not being able to smoke in the bars has helped though, and my clothes don't smell disgusting when I come home from the bar, this is a good thing.
I've been excited about writing again and have been thinking about writing a lot more lately. I haven't dedicated a lot of time to writing in the last few years so its nice to feel on the edge of inspiration, like I'm holding a lit match in one hand and one of those metal sparklers in the other and slowly bringing them together, anticipating the reaction that's about to take place.
This birthday was upstaged by Arctic Blast 2008. Things didn't go as planned (do they ever??) and I spent more time at the Florida Room my birthday weekend than I care to admit, but what was wonderful was that my friends totally rallied and braved being covered in sheets of ice to come out for birthday celebrations.
Now that "the holidays" have passed and I'm settling back into a schedule filled with schoolwork and study dates, I am enjoying the newness of so much in my life. A new year, just turned 30, a couple of new friendships that I'm really excited about, the sharp air fills my lungs in the morning and wakes me in a way that is both assaulting and inspiring. My lungs, my lungs, my lungs began to hurt last week and I decided to stop smoking. It will be a week tomorrow and my lungs still hurt as the tissue starts to repair itself. I won't say that I quit smoking, I prefer to say "I'm not smoking right now" because it doesn't sound as scary and final as "quit." The truth is, I really like smoking, I miss it. I also know that I would be in pain if I smoked a cigarette right now and I actually cried the other day about not being able to smoke. Not being able to smoke in the bars has helped though, and my clothes don't smell disgusting when I come home from the bar, this is a good thing.
I've been excited about writing again and have been thinking about writing a lot more lately. I haven't dedicated a lot of time to writing in the last few years so its nice to feel on the edge of inspiration, like I'm holding a lit match in one hand and one of those metal sparklers in the other and slowly bringing them together, anticipating the reaction that's about to take place.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Welcome to my world
Thanks for stopping by. For those of you who are reading and don't know me, a little introduction seems in order.
I'm 6 weeks shy of 30 and stoked about it. I live in Portland, OR and am trans (F to M). I am Latino (Mexican and Native American) and was born in Kansas. I am queer, a feminist, am committed to building loving community, transforming masculinity, and working for social justice. I hope to get into nursing school next year. I'm obsessed with my 3 dogs.
The following posts are copied from my myspace blog.
on sarah palin
ok, i've been thinking about this for a long time and first of all, i want to pre-empt this by stating that I think Sarah Palin is awful. AWFUL.
However..... I'm continually disturbed by how she is being criticized. Yes, she deserves criticism but she seems to be getting more criticism than male politicians who share her views (or have worse ones). I'm totally guilty of doing this and when I realized the extent that I was demonizing her, I began to question why I was doing this. Why wasn't I holding McCain, or even Obama for that matter, up to the same standards that I was expecting Sarah Palin to exemplify?
It seems that we're holding Palin up to this standard that because she's a woman, she should automatically be a feminist, should automatically have good politics. Why aren't we holding the male politicians (and all males in general) up to these same standards? McCain is totally awful. Bill Sizemore is totally awful. We all know that Bush is awful but it feels like we're quick to equate their awfulness with their male gender and subsequently write it off. We should be holding all of our political leaders up to the same standards, male, female, trans etc. We were all born into a patriarchal system. We all know that there are anti-feminist women. Just because someone was born into it female doesn't automatically make her any more or less capable of resisting patriarchy. So I will continue to criticize Sarah Palin's politics and will probably continue to think that she is awful, but I'm going to try to be just as critical of her male cohorts. Isn't that the essence of equality?
However..... I'm continually disturbed by how she is being criticized. Yes, she deserves criticism but she seems to be getting more criticism than male politicians who share her views (or have worse ones). I'm totally guilty of doing this and when I realized the extent that I was demonizing her, I began to question why I was doing this. Why wasn't I holding McCain, or even Obama for that matter, up to the same standards that I was expecting Sarah Palin to exemplify?
It seems that we're holding Palin up to this standard that because she's a woman, she should automatically be a feminist, should automatically have good politics. Why aren't we holding the male politicians (and all males in general) up to these same standards? McCain is totally awful. Bill Sizemore is totally awful. We all know that Bush is awful but it feels like we're quick to equate their awfulness with their male gender and subsequently write it off. We should be holding all of our political leaders up to the same standards, male, female, trans etc. We were all born into a patriarchal system. We all know that there are anti-feminist women. Just because someone was born into it female doesn't automatically make her any more or less capable of resisting patriarchy. So I will continue to criticize Sarah Palin's politics and will probably continue to think that she is awful, but I'm going to try to be just as critical of her male cohorts. Isn't that the essence of equality?
the privilege to dismiss
I was just reading a friend's blog that included the following passage:
"so then a couple days later i came to new york. i left on saturday night and got here at 5am on sunday morning. my mom's husband, a cab-driver from algeria, (don't ask) came to pick me up from the airport. he talked a lot about how hard it was to live in oregon with my mom. how everyone treated him like a criminal. how it was boring and he couldn't get a job. he went on and on about how crappy the US is, how the people are judgemental and there's discrimination everywhere you turn. i really couldn't disagree. but dude! it's five in the morning. could you bathe me in your negativity another time?"
This friend is white and after I read this part, I really wanted to think about the implications of this passage. Its such a part of white privilege to be able to choose when to think about oppression and to think about it only when its convenient for you or when you're in the mood. To minimize her step-dad's experiences to being simply his "negativity" has the underlying message of "come on get over it already," a message that people of color get all the time. This is the same message that women get about sexism in our society as well. The other thing that made me upset about this post was that two of her white friends congratulated her for this response by commending her "could you bathe me in your negativity another time" comment by declaring how funny and clever it was. I'm trying to decide how I want to respond to her directly and since she's a friend of mine on here, there is a strong chance she will see this post. I'm not writing this to be passive aggressive, sometimes I need to write about it first. The person that wrote this is a really great person and reading this makes me remember that we all have our shit to think about and work though, myself obviously included. I think its hard for us to open us this discussions with people within our own community because a lot of times, when people from outside our direct community says things like this, its easy for us to be dismissive, demonize the person and write them off as "fucked up" rather than attempt to engage in productive discussion. At the same time, when someone in our community displays racist or sexist or classist behaviors, it can be just as difficult for us to engage in this discussion because we write off their behavior by justifying our reasons for not calling out (oh they didn't mean it, oh they were only kidding) or not wanting to "create drama." This is something that makes it hard for me to call people out sometimes, I get that thought in my head "oh, I don't want to create drama." I get pissed at myself when I think that because talking about this shit needs to happen more, its not about creating drama. Its about building a loving community and until that can happen within our own community, how the fuck do we think that institutionalized oppression is EVER going to change??
"so then a couple days later i came to new york. i left on saturday night and got here at 5am on sunday morning. my mom's husband, a cab-driver from algeria, (don't ask) came to pick me up from the airport. he talked a lot about how hard it was to live in oregon with my mom. how everyone treated him like a criminal. how it was boring and he couldn't get a job. he went on and on about how crappy the US is, how the people are judgemental and there's discrimination everywhere you turn. i really couldn't disagree. but dude! it's five in the morning. could you bathe me in your negativity another time?"
This friend is white and after I read this part, I really wanted to think about the implications of this passage. Its such a part of white privilege to be able to choose when to think about oppression and to think about it only when its convenient for you or when you're in the mood. To minimize her step-dad's experiences to being simply his "negativity" has the underlying message of "come on get over it already," a message that people of color get all the time. This is the same message that women get about sexism in our society as well. The other thing that made me upset about this post was that two of her white friends congratulated her for this response by commending her "could you bathe me in your negativity another time" comment by declaring how funny and clever it was. I'm trying to decide how I want to respond to her directly and since she's a friend of mine on here, there is a strong chance she will see this post. I'm not writing this to be passive aggressive, sometimes I need to write about it first. The person that wrote this is a really great person and reading this makes me remember that we all have our shit to think about and work though, myself obviously included. I think its hard for us to open us this discussions with people within our own community because a lot of times, when people from outside our direct community says things like this, its easy for us to be dismissive, demonize the person and write them off as "fucked up" rather than attempt to engage in productive discussion. At the same time, when someone in our community displays racist or sexist or classist behaviors, it can be just as difficult for us to engage in this discussion because we write off their behavior by justifying our reasons for not calling out (oh they didn't mean it, oh they were only kidding) or not wanting to "create drama." This is something that makes it hard for me to call people out sometimes, I get that thought in my head "oh, I don't want to create drama." I get pissed at myself when I think that because talking about this shit needs to happen more, its not about creating drama. Its about building a loving community and until that can happen within our own community, how the fuck do we think that institutionalized oppression is EVER going to change??
Saturday, November 1, 2008
follow up
My friend Anna posted this as a bulletin, it includes the bulletin that has been circulating that I talked about in my last blog post and a copied post from sarcoregon.org that I wanted to share. xo
FEMALES OF PORTLAND BE SAFE THIS HALLOWEEN AND EVERY NIGHT, TRAVEL IN GROUPS AND WATCH YOUR SURROUNDINGS! READ THE LOWER PART OF THIS POST FOR DETAILS....
HAPPY HALLOWEEN
REPOST REPOST REPOST REPOST REPOST
here has been a rash of rapes in SE Portland near 28th and E Burnside this last week. The dude strikes after the bars have closed and has been bashing women over the head and raping them. There are no suspects or discriptions as they are all knocked out before they see the perp.
PLEASE DO NOT GO OUT ALONE! PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS! BE CAREFUL!!!
Pepper spray will not help if you get bashed on the head and knocked out so please do not go out alone, pay attention when walking past bushes and such and tell everyone!
"
Now that you've read that let me get on a soap box for a sec. I looked online to see if anything of this nature has been reported in the news and the closest I came was this: http://www. kptv. com/news/17795032/detail. html which I don't think is the same case as the bulletin is trying to make us aware of . . .
Anyways.
That doesn't mean that the above is not true. Violence against women and rape in general is under reported. The problem with this post is that it invokes a spirit of fear mongering and victim blaming. So lets use this bulletin as an opportunity to talk about interpersonal violence and the rape culture we live within and ask people to STOP RAPING OTHER PEOPLE, instead of asking people to be scared of bushes and burnside.
I copied and pasted the below off of http://www. sarcoregon. org
Today, the crime of sexual assault remains surrounded by sexist and racist myths and misconceptions that tend to minimize the seriousness of sexual assault and put the blame on the survivor rather than the offender. Exposing these myths and replacing them with facts is the first step toward changing people's attitudes and ultimately eliminating sexual violence.
When people are asked to create a scenario of rape, many will picture a dark night, a young attractive women walking alone. Out of the bushes jumps a smelly, burly, unshaven man with scraggly clothes. This horrible manifestation of evil is overwhelmed by lust for this beautiful woman and so he knocks her to the ground and rapes her. He then flees into the night leaving an emotionally-shattered young woman, who after receiving care from a doctor, reassurance from the police officer, a hug from loved ones, will be ready to carry on as usual in a day or two.
Or perhaps they picture a young voluptuous woman who cannot control her flirtatious behavior. What is she doing in a bar dressed like that? How can she possibly blame those young men she has been teasing all night long? What in the world did she expect anyway?
Or consider a not-so-attractive woman who accuses a "pillar of the community" of rape… after the poor man spurned her. One really needs to watch out for these vindictive women who are out to destroy innocent husbands, fathers.
These simplistic pictures of rape scenarios provide us with a number of myths about the crime of rape: what it is, who commits it and why, and who its survivors are. The myths serve a useful purpose; they insulate people from the reality of rape, permitting them to live without fear that it could happen to them.
Perhaps the most devastating effect of the myths is to shift the responsibility for the assault from the assailant to the survivor.
Myth:
"It can't happen to me." Rape is an isolated infrequent event that only happens to certain kinds of people: attractive, young women who are promiscuous or provocative.
Fact:
Anyone can be sexually assaulted. Studies show that survivors include infants to people in their 80's, people with disabilities, and persons from every racial, ethnic, religious, economic and social background.
Myth:
Women asked to be raped. Women often provoke rape by their own behavior: wearing low-cut or tight clothing, going out alone, staying out too late, being drunk, using drugs, kissing, etc.
Fact:
No one asks to be sexually assaulted; nor does anyone's behavior justify or excuse the crime. Sexual assault is a crime of violence, not passion. People have a right to be safe from sexual violence at any time, any place and under any circumstance.
Myth:
Most sexual assaults are committed by strangers at night in out-of-the way places.
Fact:
Familiar people and safe places are at times the most dangerous. A person is less likely to identify a friend or acquaintance or date as a rapist. As many at 80% of all sexual assaults are committed by someone the survivor knows. Over 50% of all sexual assaults occur in the home and as many sexual assaults occur during the daytime as happen at night.
Myth:
Women frequently "cry rape".
Fact:
Women typically do not lie about rape. The FBI reports that false accusations account for only 2% of all reported sexual assaults.
Myth:
Rapists are lonely, sexually unfulfilled men.
Fact:
Studies of convicted rapists indicate that more than 60% were married and virtually all had normal sexual relationships with women at the time they committed the assault.
Myth:
Men and boys cannot be sexually assaulted.
Fact:
It is currently estimated that one out of ten men are survivors of sexual assault and one out of seven are sexually abused as children. It is very difficult for a male to report an assault. The male species is "supposed" to be able to protect himself.
Myth:
Male rape is homosexual rape.
Fact:
Rape is about power and control, not about sex. Male rapes say nothing of the sexual orientation of either the survivor or the perpetrator. Perpetrators of male rapes usually identify themselves as heterosexual in their consensual sexual activities.
Myth:
Rape is the result of intense sexual desire.
Fact:
Rape is, in fact, not an expression of sexual desire as much as it is an expression of other, non-sexual needs. Rape is never the result simply of sexual arousal that has no other opportunity for gratification. The primary motivation for rape is to discharge feelings of anger, contempt, hostility, vulnerability, or inadequacy. Sex is the means of discharging those feelings and asserting control, power and exploitation.
Myth:
Most women react hysterically to rape.
Fact:
A prevailing myth about rape survivors is that they are hysterical and tearful following a rape. On the contrary they exhibit an extremely wide range of emotions in the immediate hours following a rape. Survivors may be either controlled or expressed in their reactions. Controlled survivors may be calm, composed and even subdued. Expressed survivors may be restless, crying, smiling, tense. The primary feeling of rape survivors is fear; most feel lucky to be alive, to have survived the encounter.
Myth:
The best way for a survivor to "get over" the sexual assault is to act like it didn't happen, to put it behind them and be "normal" again.
Fact:
Speaking out about the sexual assault is part of the recovery process for survivors. Each survivor is the expert on their own recovery and what they need. For many, recovery becomes an ongoing process of change and empowerment that can continue for years. All survivors have a right to support and validation from friends, family, and service providers, wherever they are in their recovery process.
There are many more myths surrounding sexual assault. These are the most frequently encountered. We need to recognize the myths as they occur in the perceptions of the crime expressed by the survivor and their family. Both the family and the survivor need to recognize these myths for what they are. It is much too easy, even today, for a survivor to accept responsibility for the assault. It is equally as easy for the family to suffer tremendous guilt because they did not prevent the assault. We all need to understand the only person responsible is the assailant.
FEMALES OF PORTLAND BE SAFE THIS HALLOWEEN AND EVERY NIGHT, TRAVEL IN GROUPS AND WATCH YOUR SURROUNDINGS! READ THE LOWER PART OF THIS POST FOR DETAILS....
HAPPY HALLOWEEN
REPOST REPOST REPOST REPOST REPOST
here has been a rash of rapes in SE Portland near 28th and E Burnside this last week. The dude strikes after the bars have closed and has been bashing women over the head and raping them. There are no suspects or discriptions as they are all knocked out before they see the perp.
PLEASE DO NOT GO OUT ALONE! PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS! BE CAREFUL!!!
Pepper spray will not help if you get bashed on the head and knocked out so please do not go out alone, pay attention when walking past bushes and such and tell everyone!
"
Now that you've read that let me get on a soap box for a sec. I looked online to see if anything of this nature has been reported in the news and the closest I came was this: http://www. kptv. com/news/17795032/detail. html which I don't think is the same case as the bulletin is trying to make us aware of . . .
Anyways.
That doesn't mean that the above is not true. Violence against women and rape in general is under reported. The problem with this post is that it invokes a spirit of fear mongering and victim blaming. So lets use this bulletin as an opportunity to talk about interpersonal violence and the rape culture we live within and ask people to STOP RAPING OTHER PEOPLE, instead of asking people to be scared of bushes and burnside.
I copied and pasted the below off of http://www. sarcoregon. org
Today, the crime of sexual assault remains surrounded by sexist and racist myths and misconceptions that tend to minimize the seriousness of sexual assault and put the blame on the survivor rather than the offender. Exposing these myths and replacing them with facts is the first step toward changing people's attitudes and ultimately eliminating sexual violence.
When people are asked to create a scenario of rape, many will picture a dark night, a young attractive women walking alone. Out of the bushes jumps a smelly, burly, unshaven man with scraggly clothes. This horrible manifestation of evil is overwhelmed by lust for this beautiful woman and so he knocks her to the ground and rapes her. He then flees into the night leaving an emotionally-shattered young woman, who after receiving care from a doctor, reassurance from the police officer, a hug from loved ones, will be ready to carry on as usual in a day or two.
Or perhaps they picture a young voluptuous woman who cannot control her flirtatious behavior. What is she doing in a bar dressed like that? How can she possibly blame those young men she has been teasing all night long? What in the world did she expect anyway?
Or consider a not-so-attractive woman who accuses a "pillar of the community" of rape… after the poor man spurned her. One really needs to watch out for these vindictive women who are out to destroy innocent husbands, fathers.
These simplistic pictures of rape scenarios provide us with a number of myths about the crime of rape: what it is, who commits it and why, and who its survivors are. The myths serve a useful purpose; they insulate people from the reality of rape, permitting them to live without fear that it could happen to them.
Perhaps the most devastating effect of the myths is to shift the responsibility for the assault from the assailant to the survivor.
Myth:
"It can't happen to me." Rape is an isolated infrequent event that only happens to certain kinds of people: attractive, young women who are promiscuous or provocative.
Fact:
Anyone can be sexually assaulted. Studies show that survivors include infants to people in their 80's, people with disabilities, and persons from every racial, ethnic, religious, economic and social background.
Myth:
Women asked to be raped. Women often provoke rape by their own behavior: wearing low-cut or tight clothing, going out alone, staying out too late, being drunk, using drugs, kissing, etc.
Fact:
No one asks to be sexually assaulted; nor does anyone's behavior justify or excuse the crime. Sexual assault is a crime of violence, not passion. People have a right to be safe from sexual violence at any time, any place and under any circumstance.
Myth:
Most sexual assaults are committed by strangers at night in out-of-the way places.
Fact:
Familiar people and safe places are at times the most dangerous. A person is less likely to identify a friend or acquaintance or date as a rapist. As many at 80% of all sexual assaults are committed by someone the survivor knows. Over 50% of all sexual assaults occur in the home and as many sexual assaults occur during the daytime as happen at night.
Myth:
Women frequently "cry rape".
Fact:
Women typically do not lie about rape. The FBI reports that false accusations account for only 2% of all reported sexual assaults.
Myth:
Rapists are lonely, sexually unfulfilled men.
Fact:
Studies of convicted rapists indicate that more than 60% were married and virtually all had normal sexual relationships with women at the time they committed the assault.
Myth:
Men and boys cannot be sexually assaulted.
Fact:
It is currently estimated that one out of ten men are survivors of sexual assault and one out of seven are sexually abused as children. It is very difficult for a male to report an assault. The male species is "supposed" to be able to protect himself.
Myth:
Male rape is homosexual rape.
Fact:
Rape is about power and control, not about sex. Male rapes say nothing of the sexual orientation of either the survivor or the perpetrator. Perpetrators of male rapes usually identify themselves as heterosexual in their consensual sexual activities.
Myth:
Rape is the result of intense sexual desire.
Fact:
Rape is, in fact, not an expression of sexual desire as much as it is an expression of other, non-sexual needs. Rape is never the result simply of sexual arousal that has no other opportunity for gratification. The primary motivation for rape is to discharge feelings of anger, contempt, hostility, vulnerability, or inadequacy. Sex is the means of discharging those feelings and asserting control, power and exploitation.
Myth:
Most women react hysterically to rape.
Fact:
A prevailing myth about rape survivors is that they are hysterical and tearful following a rape. On the contrary they exhibit an extremely wide range of emotions in the immediate hours following a rape. Survivors may be either controlled or expressed in their reactions. Controlled survivors may be calm, composed and even subdued. Expressed survivors may be restless, crying, smiling, tense. The primary feeling of rape survivors is fear; most feel lucky to be alive, to have survived the encounter.
Myth:
The best way for a survivor to "get over" the sexual assault is to act like it didn't happen, to put it behind them and be "normal" again.
Fact:
Speaking out about the sexual assault is part of the recovery process for survivors. Each survivor is the expert on their own recovery and what they need. For many, recovery becomes an ongoing process of change and empowerment that can continue for years. All survivors have a right to support and validation from friends, family, and service providers, wherever they are in their recovery process.
There are many more myths surrounding sexual assault. These are the most frequently encountered. We need to recognize the myths as they occur in the perceptions of the crime expressed by the survivor and their family. Both the family and the survivor need to recognize these myths for what they are. It is much too easy, even today, for a survivor to accept responsibility for the assault. It is equally as easy for the family to suffer tremendous guilt because they did not prevent the assault. We all need to understand the only person responsible is the assailant.
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