my other site

I am working on another blog, For The Long Haul. I write about relationships, what makes them float - and what makes them sink. Check it out!

kids with aids

The facts are worse than we imagine. At least that is what I find whenever I come across articles like this one.

No more Visits from 'Aunt Flow'?

Skimming across the Chicagotribune.com headlines this morning, I noticed one that said, "More Women Say No To Menstruation. Period."

What do you think?

I'm not sure what I think about all this yet. Personally, I'm a little creeped out by products like 'Seasonale' that allow your period only four times/year. Actually, I'm creeped out by the idea of birth control all together. Although I am using the pill as my contraceptive currently.

I avoid genetically modified foods - so really I'm not surprised to see that I do not want to change the natural path of my body with birth control. But I cannot afford a baby right now, so I'm not considering going off the pill - like so many other women, it just isn't an option.

Now, I wouldn't dare disregard Margaret Sanger's pioneer efforts toward the contraceptive, and I would never say a full-time form of control should not be an option. I'm just saying it may not be for me.

sick of it

How dare you call me 'annoying'.

How many times have you dealt with a boyfriend, girlfriend, friend, mother, father, classmate, teacher - calling you annoying, or scoffing at you when you are upset/frustrated with society?

Whether I am upset over the fact that America has re-elected George Bush, or the fact that talentless women are still clad in bikini's on the cover of every magazine - I still find that my boyfried, or whomever is annoyed with me for being annoyed.

God forbid I express myself or have emotions.

This isn't rage. This is a contemplated anger.

How annoying of me to turn over magazine covers in the "Express" line at the grocery store. "It is an EXPRESS line," after all. How dare I take an extra three seconds out of a stranger's, or my boyfriend's life, to cover something that should't be there in the first place. Something that continues the cycle that says, "it is okay to objectify and degrade women". That little girl's, teenage girl's, women and "goodies, but oldies" alike - should feel ugly, not good enough, or fat because PEOPLE magazine tells us everyday that we should.

And I say, "F*CK YOU."

I do not want to look at that crap. Because it makes me feel fat, ugly or less than? Maybe. Or for a better reason: I would like to see Beauty. I would like to see intelligence, creativity and imagination. I would like to share childlike bewilderment with everything that graces my eyes - and enjoy it all with that person waiting so patiently behind me in line. Because as it turns out, she could be a woman. And she probably wouldn't mind staring at a piece of artwork, or nothing at all, than some no-name-waste-of-time.

Eye Candy

I'm riding the el with Tim and I look up. A creep-ass guy is leering at a girl inside the train. She is properly clad (as in "prim & proper") in a knee-length green skirt with a cute eyelet print and a denim white jacket. Her makeup is subtle, her hair pulled back in a curly bun, and she is reading a book. The reason I describe her is that, she was doing nothing to attract attention to her, in any way, especially a sexual one. I watched the man stare at the side of her face, eyes move down her neck adn to her barely showing kneecaps. She is completely unaware of the fact that this man is "checking her out."

From this point on, I will use the term "objectifying" in replace of "checking out"

Unfortunately, the creep-ass gets on the train. He goes right for the chair across from Tim and I. Darts his head to the side, nose but an inch from her hair and breathes in. The sniff wasn't too dramatic, there was no eye closing or gasps for breath - there was no poetry. The sniff was rather like that of a dog detected shit in his yard. His territory. His domain.

Snapped from my analysis he looked at me. I jolted from my safety seat directly into oncoming traffic. The creep-ass was now objectifying me. I closed me eyes, "Oh, God. Please make it stop. The blood-shot eyes slowly undressing me must be off the train when I re-open my eyes." I opened my eyes and matched his. Quickly looking away. I felt ashamed as soon as I looked away. He was winning. A battle was on - no other passenger on the train was aware of the show-down, not even my boyfriend snuggled into my arm.

To no avail I silently prayed that this man might even smile - show some sign of humanity. Some recognition that says, "I know you're human. I see you as more than an object, or a piece of meat."

I contemplated telling him to, "Fuck off." But then he would win even more. Then he'd have a voice to go with the fantasy slowly rolling in his sick mind.

Maybe he wasn't in the middle of a sick fantasy, but the part that disgusts me is that it was possible - that there was NOTHING I could do about it.

Instead of telling him off, I decided to collect all of my strength and better knowledge and confront him mentally. I would look him in the eyes, one last time and tell him exactly what I thought - that I was strong, and smart, and human. That he couldn't rape me. I wouldn't be victimized. He couldn't see me as something sexual.

But I lost. As I always do, as I always will.

*My friend Shannon and I were having a discussion yesterday about this type of situation. The daily run-in we have with men. Men who objectify us in a glance. It is as if we are raped everyday. And the worst part isn't the actual rape, it is the simple truth that we are absolutly helpless. Completely dehumanized.

Eye Candy

I'm riding the el with Tim and I look up. A creep-ass guy is leering at a girl inside the train. She is properly clad (as in "prim & proper") in a knee-length green skirt with a cute eyelet print and a denim white jacket. Her makeup is subtle, her hair pulled back in a curly bun, and she is reading a book. The reason I describe her is that, she was doing nothing to attract attention to her, in any way, especially a sexual one. I watched the man stare at the side of her face, eyes move down her neck and to her barely showing kneecaps. She is completely unaware of the fact that this man is "checking her out."

From this point on, I will use the term "objectifying" in replace of "checking out"

Unfortunately, the creep-ass gets on the train. He goes right for the chair across from Tim and I. Darts his head to the side, nose but an inch from her hair and breathes in. The sniff wasn't too dramatic, there was no eye closing or gasps for breath - there was no poetry. The sniff was rather like that of a dog detecting shit in his yard. His territory. His domain.

Snapped from my analysis he looked at me. I was jolted from my safety seat directly into traffic. The creep-ass was now objectifying me. I closed me eyes, "Oh, God. Please make it stop. The blood-shot eyes slowly undressing me must be off the train when I re-open my eyes." I opened my eyes and matched his. Quickly looking away. I felt ashamed as soon as I looked away. He was winning. A battle was on - no other passenger on the train was aware of the show-down, not even my boyfriend snuggled into my arm.

To no avail I silently prayed that this man might even smile - show some sign of humanity. Some recognition that says, "I know you're human. I see you as more than an object, or a piece of meat."

I contemplated telling him to, "Fuck off." But then he would win even more. Then he'd have a voice to go with the fantasy slowly rolling in his sick mind.

Maybe he wasn't in the middle of a sick fantasy, but the part that disgusts me is that it was possible - that there was NOTHING I could do about it.

Instead of telling him off, I decided to collect all of my strength and better knowledge and confront him mentally. I would look him in the eyes, one last time and tell him exactly what I thought - that I was strong, and smart, and human. That he couldn't rape me. I wouldn't be victimized. He couldn't see me as something sexual.

But I lost. As I always do, as I always will.

***

My friend Shannon and I were having a discussion yesterday about this type of situation. The daily run-in we have with men. Men who objectify us in a glance. It is as if we are raped everyday. And the worst part isn't the actual rape, it is the simple truth that we are absolutly helpless. Completely dehumanized. And practically no one knows its happening.