Buried Alive

I’ve technically already done this post.

But.

Am I the only one who views appearance standards, or appearance preferences as a part of a privilege/oppression system that is, yes, cruel, and is, yes, damaging to people’s self-esteem and, yes, values people for something that is utterly useless?

Do we really need more categories for humans?  Pretty, handsome, beautiful, ugly, sexy, hot, fine, stacked, etc. (don’t even go there with the “I was talking about their ‘insides’”–this post is about physical aspects only).

And let’s not even ignore how often our own personal standards do not deviate from the typical societal models which include a host of sizeisms, ageisms, colorisms (made that up, yep), classicisms,  and gender constructing.

FFS, I get that many people have physical attractions and that it does not make them bad people.  But are we not to the point yet where we are willing to call physical attractions a construct? And a really awful and hurtful way of assigning accolades to some?  A terrible system of assigning a lesser appealing judgement to something as stupid and usually involuntary as someone’s fucking genetic externalities?

And an empty method of choosing people to associate with on any level?

Do people not see this as inane and horrific as a whole host of other isms?

I am just baffled right now.

Where has our “no” gone? (Trust this will become a huge theme for this blog henceforth)

It’s very difficult to fathom how powerful and incremental one word, one concept, can be to the sexual health and well-being of a civilization yet go so hushed and lost.

At the intersection of power, stigma, and sexual socialization there has been made an incredibly thriving market to the tune of billions of dollars and, what’s more willing worldwide participants, in the celebration-the orgasmic celebration if you will-of no “No.”

And what I am talking about is not limited to rape and sexual assault though they, of course, are some of the darkest manifestations of this. No–I am talking about the ubiquitous, ever-existential, concept of sexuality and how much of our sexuality has been formed on the erasure and undermining of “no.”

In sexual stigma p.1 there were two main points that I wanted to make clear:

1. Consent and sexual readiness has been presented to us, through marketing and media, to be a look-a set of features-embodied by women/girls. Thus creating a situation wherein, if the “look” is present, the sexual meaning is implied. When sexual meaning is implied the first layer of consideration for the women’s interest in being considered sexual by another, as well as her legal ability to even be so, is removed. A layer of “no” is gone.

2. We are being conditioned to find people sexually attractive and ready in way that is supposed to be against our will. From early ages we are presented a set of sexual norms that we are supposed to want yet what we are supposed to *not* want is most sexualized. Thus our capitulation and lack of control is sexualized. Thus we perceive our own responsibility and agency as a bit of a continuum–vulnerable to change given how desirable we find the subject. As the stigmas normalize and mainstream our ability to achieve this same arousing effect diminishes. We are now searching out new sexual ways to breach our own will.

Exactly how many ways can one say Rape Culture?

But let’s not stop there.

Stigma, sometimes called “taboo,” has an even an more problematic function. Due to the language and politics surrounding sexual norms vs. stigma, stigma has become synonymous with liberating/sexual freedom/sexual autonomy. To engage in a taboo/stigma is often seen as engaging in a more sexually free activity. It’s a pseudo-freedom dichotomy: the sexual norms are pushed in a way that is so forceful and exaggerated (by no-fun, questionable institutions no less: schools, religion, family) that by the time someone has gone through all the emotional and psychological , if not societal, shaming to finally partake in the stigma who can blame them for feeling freer?

And don’t get it twisted: we know who bears the brunt of this shaming.

However, the problem here is that we have created a very protected, hot tempered situation wherein no one can really challenge stigmas without being viewed as a censurer/personal-liberties-destroyer. To question the stigmas is to question sexual freedom by default of the norms vs. stigma system. (How free are we really if we can’t even question without being insulted?)

Moreover, the sexual stigma is not viewed (wrongfully) as originating from any sort of institution or official entity–we just say it’s there, it’s how we feel and when asked to possibly locate the origins/roots of this one is often presented with some very sexist primitive science (usually funded by The Right) or told it doesn’t matter, consenting adults, so who cares.

Funny that we, as feminists, often have no problem discussing the origins of the sexual norms adults engage in–most likely because they originate from The Right and we have no quibbles questioning them. Double standard much?

(Anticipated misreading number 1*: I am not saying I anymore agree with the current sexual norms than I disagree with the sexual stigmas–I think the whole system is bunk. My point is to express how these intersecting dynamics destroy so much of what is needed in the foundations of consent.)

The other thing is: stigma is mainstream. As in, it’s mainstream for us to have stigmas. The norms vs. stigma system is the mainstream. But when taboo is spoken about, when people who participate in stigma come forth they are regarded as sexual revolutionaries, as if they are challenging mainstream on a ground breaking level. This celebration means we continue to reward almost any deviating behavior, or make excuses for it, in such a way that removes critical analysis. As well, those who choose to participate in more sexual norms are considered boring, humdrum, or same ole same ole.

(Anticipated misreading number 2*: I do not mean deviating as all bad–I speak of any deviation from the norm, with no necessary value judgment)

What I find so immensely troubling is the defense and/or apologetic attitudes towards systems, ideas, even said “sexual revolutionaries” who defend sexual stigmas meant to control, ostracize, harm, and shame women. Such examples would be the use of terms such as slut, prude, whore, virgin in pornography or role play. Such examples would include rape and/or child rape simulation. Such examples would include sexual practices depending on uneven power distributions.

Now really: If you have to suspend the disbelief that your sexual partner is a child to get off then how invested are you in perpetuating a better consent model? And a world without child porn, pedophilia, predatory behavior etc.

If you have to suspend the disbelief that your sexual partner is a whore/good little girl (re:sexual shaming tactic) to get off then how invested are you in perpetuating a better consent model? And a world where women aren’t categorized, turned away in rape trials, prostitutes murdered without a second glance, etc.

I’ve said before and I’ll say it again and again and again: if you must suspend the disbelief that your sexual partner is not consenting to get off then please tell me how possibly invested you are in a better model of consent.

(Ironically many who are vocal about the harm of rape jokes somehow go quite silent critiquing rape based orgasms…)

If we don’t want the stigma then we don’t want the stigma, right? This two way game we are trying to pull off wherein we want women respected in the general world but must pretend otherwise in the bedroom is pretty unbelievable. What kind of disconnect are we embarking on that says harmful sexual stigmas against women are sooo awful until we decide to be sexual?

“Women are not sluts until you want to get off on the idea that one of them is!”

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!?!??!!!!??!?!?!?!?!!?!??!

Nope. Sorry. Failed logic. Not my fault, I didn’t invent the game.

But to the supporters and players and apologists and creators of the game: ps–it’s. not. fucking. working.

*I anticipate several other misreadings should they decide to comment. I will number them accordingly.

This post comes from a comment I made at Heart’s regarding sex tort law where Marco Randazza, porn industry lawyer as he accepts, makes a very common case for his First Amendment Crusades (comment section).

I am so shameless that I thought the comment deserved its own post. Not because I am brilliant (the gossip mill tells me so!) but because I think I may have addressed the issue in a way which I haven’t before and I do feel it’s worth repeating.

Mr. Randazza’s comments are quoted. I have copy/pasted directly.

“I’d ask you to show me the “harm” that any of my adult entertainment clients have “inflicted” upon anyone.” &

“in the battle to protect free expression.”

I never tire of my own dismay at these attitudes.

First of all, free expression does not exist. Expression does not exist without a cost–we really need to stop using this phrase, it is harmful in and of itself. Abusive even. We remove too much of our critical sensibilities with the idea of “free” and thus violators and abusers can move covertly in and out of our lives whilst committing sizable damage we can no more account for than understand.
The question of expression’s costs, as far as “harm” is concerned, really becomes: at whose expense?

And the question of expense, afaic, is one of the most unique aspects of porn’s role in people’s lives. Because, typically, we measure the harm of a product or service on the end user–or porn user in this case. And while there *is* evidence of porn’s measurable effect on the brain (or, for those more skeptical, please visit any University Marketing Department where students study how to affect people’s buying habits with *images*), the real *harm* can be seen in the True end user: the person on whom the porn viewer uses to act out their porn viewing habits. This of course, comes full circle as the industry continues to force girls and women into pornography to satiate the porn users’ demand. This harm is absolutely *immeasurable*: violence, rape, death.

But see we don’t even have the first end user covered. How often must we hear from a porn producer “I just make the porn”? That’s certainly not the full story. We would not accept from from a pharmacist “I just fill the prescription.” No, there is well known and accounted for legal recourse one may take if their medicine negatively affects their body (especially if the effects are not mentioned as a possibility in taking the medication). Porn producers saying “I make scenes and images that affect the porn user’s sexuality” is more accurate. And yet porn comes with no warning label: “Warning–consuming these images will likely make you view your wife, girlfriend, significant other, daughter, sister, female colleagues, or any random female person in public as a sex object for you to use and abuse.”

The harm is already evident. We don’t have to go far to see how men view women’s bodies and their access to them. *What other* multi-billion dollar industry so intimately represents men’s relationship to women’s bodies as does the porn and sex industries?

At one point do we see this connection? At what point do we recognize that the acts in porn are the same as the acts women and girls are being forced/pressured/asked to do in the streets to survive, in marriages to prevent infidelity, in relationships to feel worthy?

A man coming to a woman-centered blog asking *us* to show him the harm “inflicted” (clever word to use here, as “inflicted” has implications of immediacy–as if porn’s harm is the equivalent to poking someone in the eye) reeks of more privilege than I can express.

Mr. Randazza, if you have any honest intentions to understand the expenses, the costs, the harms of pornography use on society I would urge you reconsider your not returning and hang around a while.

This world has got some serious hots for the tots.

I present you sexeee anecdote: when I was 2 I had chubalicious baby fat, the kind that fell in rolls down my legs and arms. My hair was short and whitish blonde. I had a drooly mouth cuz I chewed on everything. And because I wasn’t some prodigy-pooper I was bottom heavy in a diaper like all my tot friends.

Honestly, I don’t know what kept me from landing leading roles in child porn or being married off only a few years later. Hawt-Eeeee!

Being anti child porn is sorta like the ultimate DUH, isn’t it? Duh! Who the fuck says they are down with child porn? And yet, our country/world can’t keep its creepy hands off of them. So what’s the dealiyo?

Before you answer let us journey an an experiment.

Which of the following images are acceptable for an adult man to be sexually attracted to/aroused by?

Image # 1.

Image # 2.

Image # 3.

Image # 4.

Hopefully, for legal reasons you said none (they are all under 16!). And of course, the law doesn’t say “don’t be sexually attracted to such and such age” because who finds what sexually attractive is unknown until that person acts on it. But the message is pretty clear: kids can’t consent so their rapings and molestations are not game for your genital fondles.

Images 1 and 2 were obvious, hopefully. They are children so clear as day. But what about images 3 & 4? Seriously. What’s the difference between these images and countless twenty somethings? Or vice versa. What’s the difference between these images and countless images of women meant to be sexually attractive for adult men (legally)?

The only degree of separation is age. Yet age hardly means anything when men are being conditioned to *images*–the looks, the expressions, the posturing, the body proportions, the facial structures/features. Not to mention all these different elements (body proportions, facial features, expressions, etc) are not age specific–plenty of females from about 14-30 can pull this off (and sometimes those limits get much younger/older).

With the ongoing and successful attempt by media and advertising to infantilize over 18 females and hypersexualize the underage, who here is surprised to learn that pedophilia and predatory men are a frickin’ pandemic?

Oh and by the way: Welcome to the Week of Creepy Daddies.

I know I’m a bit of a sell out for using the Miley Cyrus image for the poor girl is the now the face of the weird daddy-daughter complex and that must feel wretched. But that’s not even the part the makes my head spin the most. Nor is the part where I tell Annie Leibovitz straight up she has the artistic merit of a foam cup: cheap and bad for the environment. Or the part where I ask Mr. & Mrs. Cyrus wtf were they thinking!? (also fodder for the comments: what do my readers think of licensing parents?)

And don’t get me wrong: all that stuff is fuuuuucked (and I’m happy to repeat as much in comments for those who misread me). But you know what really gets me going? How the adults are reacting.

First of all, Disney Parents, Miley does not owe you and/or your Disney prince/princesses an apology–she’s 15, she is still a legal child.

Second of all, it’s not her fault. How, pray tell, is a person ( a child no less!) to be sexualized without someone being the one to sexualize her. Excuse my agenda for a second, but these pictures would not be sexy or sexual if women’s bodies were not appropriated. Period! They are sexual because of conditioning, not innateness, so that actually makes it the sexualizer’s fault–not Miley’s. Adults are uncomfortable for a reason they will not admit to: they see those images and they sexualize her and it makes them (rightly!) feel wrong.

But never mind all these 14 and 15 and 16 and 17 year old almost-legals feeling the predatory burden that is passing-for-legal-sexyay-woman. Some people don’t even want toddler knocks offs, like 10 year olds or something. They want the real deal. You remember images 1 & 2 up there? The obviously-too-young? Yeah, seems they don’t even need mussed hair and make up to get their sexy on. Roll Clip!

(Actually for this next portion you’ll need to follow this link because I cannot get the video to embed for some reason. Seriously watch it!) -Via oneangrygirl.net.

So as you see, there is also a huge and increasing demand for *really young* girls.

…I’m wondering how long it would take to normalize “toddler-plants”: plastic surgery for all us free-choicin’-women to get body reductions so we are 3 feet tall, our flesh all bubbled out, with puffy cheeks and baby teeth inserts (cuz the rest will be knocked out during this highly individualistic-empowerfullized operation). Maybe even some saliva injections to get that that drool factor going again (ooo la la)…

One would think, what with the steady supply of images wherein preteen and teen girls are flashing their grade school bums on myspace pages or humping boys/each other in music videos, that the predators urges would finally be kept at bay. But lo, we have more and more men getting caught with child porn or raping young girls, as well as younger and younger girls being forced into the sex/rape trade.

We need to keep in mind: pedophilia is not just a need/desire to molest children, it is the very strong obsession to commit a sexually stigmatized act– here the root being the stigma, the branch being children.

Stigma for all general purposes arises from a normalization of some kind-acceptable standards- wherein outliers to these standards are the stigma (bad, wrong, illegal). These standards tend to come from or are heavily influenced by our religious and government institutions as well as our media.

While religious and government entities set up a set of sexual circumstances we are to follow (and usually referencing some BS book known as The Bible) the media/advertising industries then take the outliers to these standards and sexualize them for profit. The point being to create a very powerful buying stimulus wherein our desires are strictly tied to feeling bad, naughty, taboo. Some people forget that these feelings -disgust, dirty, wrong-are all very powerful and arousing as well. Couple these stigma-stimuli with the naturally and physically enjoyable feeling of being aroused/orgasming and voila!: we have created a huge demand for sexual stigma. One very few admit to –because what would be the fun if it wasn’t as sneaky, or mischievous?

(And perhaps now we can explain why all these religious men go nuts for kids–they get the added stimulus of thinking they are going to hell for their sexual activities. A mind-blowing orgasm for sure)

The thing is media and advertising are not stagnant industries. They are continuously shifting to keep this stigma satiated by sensationalism and new sexually “naughty” ventures. What we once thought was too young for presenting-as-sexual to men is now normalized through overexposure and must move on to keep the public interested (re: buying). It is time for a new set of girls, younger, more wrong.

In this process we have ensured a whole new generation will not escape the fate of this destructive crossfire, that our daughters and sisters will feel this violence at much younger ages, ages so formative that these experiences will live on in them forever. What’s more, we are teaching men that they are monsters, uncontrollable, sexual deviates whose sexually stigmatized acts should be celebrated.

This sickness is contagious and growing and the system is in place. Our countries, our world–we have created a Pedo-Mill.

It’s happening again. An entire generation is misinterpreting their fashions, posturings, fads, social sayings, humour and inner muse with some type of new way of doing things. It’s bad enough they are missing the bigger point, wherein minus the cosmetics and faux hawks they are the same ole shit but let’s chew on this: they are generational traditionalists/ repeats (oh no she didn’t).

Suffice to say generations desperate to find their own identity are participating in the same old cycle–doing some crap cut/paste job of culture, (mix-matching vintage and eco-whatever) while “raising the bar” and calling it ME. This some how gets conflated into being contemporary/better/more interesting and along the way the elders are supposed to feel so out of touch that they smile weakly while fading into a depressingly silent background. Well that’s the idea isn’t it. Nothing new here folks.

Not only does this feed ageism but now it seems we need to officially introduce another -ism into the mix: generational-ism. For example, my uncle is a generationalist: after his generation and all their little cultural practices/hang-ups the world went to hell in a hand basket. I am a screw up by default of my birthday.

Similarly if the idea of cutting up hookers does not suit your fancy you are likely some living fossil like a 70’s disco queen or a hippy or a survivor of the Depression.

Meet the true Creator of Cuttin’ Up Hookers apparel: Mr. Wha-what! Stefan Kane. (No that is not a caricature drawing at the top of this post showing him and his friend at the movies…). Mr. Kane is the one who derserves your attention too. Unfortunately I cannot find a way to get a hold of him, save a myspace message. But you are in luck cuzz know what? I’m a Generation-isms expert and I already know his response: he is simply mizunderstood–a victim of the hatas. He’s got a message! A point! Something to SAY.

While you ponder whatever the fuck it is he has to say you should also know that yesterday Alex the printer and distributor of Cuttin’ Up Hookers had more to say to me on e-mail than blog. I e-mailed him originally very confused as to how he could come to my blog and say he had no affiliation with the shirts when the internet crumb trail lead right to him. Aw shucks! Turns out he was mizunderstood too!

You see he was deeply troubled by this False Alex misrepresenting his reputation and wanted his image as the printer and distributer, Not Creator, set straight! And as you will read some of his points, while better articulated, were not that far from fake Alex.

Of course I let him know his attempt to salvage these shirts on the “joke” or “free speech” grounds was nonngetiable. His biggest response to that was pease-o-pease just take down those awful words mizunderstandin’ my position.

Well he was talking to the wrong blog for that. My last e-mail to him went unanswered yet strangely enough I read today he is done with Cuttin’ Up Hookers? Or maybe he is just done printing them but he will still distribute them? Or maybe now he will create them but not distribute? Or maybe he’ll just hire the high schoolers that model them? These tiny details of rather innocuous measure that are supposed to set him apart from the shirts run parallel with the Mizunderstood Generation’s tedious obsession with being this not that.

And those of us who dare challenge such margins need to accept OUR lacking in understanding.

Well this underling of the Gen Y supposed-to-wear-cutting-up-hooker-shirts says piss off!

“You just don’t get it” is a cop out. “Straight up.” It’s been used by every Mizunderstood Generation that’s ever been. And anyone who doesn’t get that needs to get with the times!

**UPDATE**: I cannot seem to find the Cuttin’ Up Hookers apparel line from District Lines. Could it be…?  Oh and you should keep yourself posted on the myspace page for the guy who punches babies–seems he is standing up for his rizzights!

According to the phobia list, my mom has “Gephyrophobia,” or, fear of bridges.
This is from, what she recalls, an eerie telepathic (or something? parasensory?) experience when her twin sister’s car was nearly thrown off a bridge during an accident. My mother claims to have those *twin feelings* where experiences are shared. When her twin sister’s car threatened to brim a high coastal bridge, instilled in my mother was the fear her life would be taken by a bridge some day.

My mother drives over very few bridges, if any, no matter the added distance or time to her trip. For over 30 years now she’s had recurring nightmares wherein she cannot make it over a steep bridge and reaches the top only to be staring down a hundred foot drop to the sea–one of those right-before-you-die’ers.

I have claustrophobia. Elevators are not my friend, or closed small rooms or crowded buses or concerts. I avoid them at all costs as well. Staircases are wonderful and businesses with enough decency to not sound a fire alarm if I use the stairwell make me a repeat customer.

When I was 4 it was darkness and under-the-bed phantoms.

I still freak out about heights.

But, you know, transpersons?

And phobia? Are you serious?

Listen I’m writing a pseudo book that I am going to post on this blog called “Radical Feminist Mis-characterizations.” I anticipate it will have endless contributions and I cannot wait to find out who, in whatever respect, I offend by laying out the mis-characterizations of radical feminists.

Are you calling *me* a MIScharacterizer pisaquari??? Have you forgotten I’m a PERSON!?”

Transphobia— it didn’t even make the phobia list and I can’t imagine why not. As much as it is thrown around you’d expect the Medical Association to have a book out on it by now–Janice Raymond on the cover or something, with doodled devil horns and a strap on.

“Transphobia,” just to give you a taste of the pseudo book’s brilliance, will cover radical feminists and all their “transphobia” for about 9 chapters. There will be account after account of radical feminists recoiling at the sight and presence of transpersons, Dworkinites melting at the touch of lipstick and lash curlers, separatists throwing bombs at “transition” surgeons.

(Forgive me! You will need boots to walk through this snark)

I, for one, am a big ole transphober. Why, just last week, an exciting suggestion was made by Deb about organizing some sort of Radical Feminist Conference. The conference, as laid out in the post, would be woman only, of the female born and raised variety. All but a few seemed down with it. I’m down with it. And since I cannot speak for all radfems let me give my account for wanting to make this trans exclusive.

I am not comfortable being my radical feminist self amongst transpersons. Reading transperson accounts online and in books does not help it either–in fact, it heightens my inability to speak freely. How can I, a gender abolitionist, feel comfortable speaking out against gender and its manifestations in the company of a transperson? How can I, a gender abolitionist, feel comfortable talking about my frustrations and hardships with the idea that what our bodies are born has anything to do with how we should express ourselves, in the company of a transperson? I think gender is woefully destructive and I put it to blame for so much of what pits us against our bodies. But what I am arguing for and about smacks against what transpersons feel is their reality and experience. In recognizing their daily trauma and very real oppression they receive I don’t have the *guts* to sit in a room and speak the truths I feel about gender with a transperson.

And why would I? What have radical feminists ever gotten by speaking their minds about gender as it applies to transitioning besides a stinking diagnosis? Add “transphobia” to the list of reasons why I am not down with trans at a radical feminist conference. (Perhaps we could come to some bull shit truce yes? Wherein you agree to label the problem accurately and we let you keep your silly name call: “genderphobia.” Because I wouldn’t dare ask anyone to part with “phobia.” How would you get through your day without vilifying radical feminists as hateful panicbots?)

I should have you know there is a P word I give to instances wherein a group of dissenting women are “diagnosed”–hysteria of some sort usually does the trick–and then told their paranoia can/must be solved by forcing the very thing/person they “fear” around them (5 homemade brownies in the next life to the person who gets it). Even if I did believe such a condition as transphobia existed amongst radfems, I certainly would not be cool with the triggering persons persistent imposing of themselves on the fearing (out of kindness, my loved ones take the stairs with me–they don’t push me onto elevators).

I cannot think of any other time in my life, besides a radical feminist conference here and there (the one proposed by Debs would be my first), where I would want to be in a trans exclusive environment. It took me years to find like-minded individuals on the internet–it would mean the world to me to meet them in person and speak openly about my ideas. Even the city I live in has a pretty thriving underground trans scene, places for trans to meet up and share their experiences and I think that’s great. But I have never heard of such a place for radfems. As it is, I would have to shell out some serious dough to make it to the place where I could be with such a like-minded group.

And I’m guessing, looking into this further, me and the radfems I run around with, are super cruel–I mean, have you considered this is also radfem only? I seriously doubt Phyllis Schlafly is invited. I wouldn’t invite my mother. Is this event also Nonradfemsphobic?

I have said elsewhere on my blog, in comments, that I agree radical feminists need to take more time to address the oppression transpersons receive and I hold to it.

But I can’t lie that it becomes hard to take that position when so much of what radfems do on this front (as with others, like the sex positive ordeal) is damage control. People spend more time being offended by radical feminists than engaged. Reasonable, productive discourse is shot at the outset.

And I don’t have a solution, as much as I wish I did. I also can’t lie that I am thoroughly irritated with the micro-management of radical feminist ideas and events as if WE are the fucking enemy!

As it stands, the Conservatives don’t like us, the Liberals resent us, the “alterntiave”communities make fun of us–trust me, we’re not getting any coverage, or making a lot of friends with all our “hateful” ideas. ( patriarchy and everything will stay intact after such a conference, much to our own disappointment and, many times, depression).

So you know, if a group of radfems (and I do mean group) want to get together and make a day of it exclusively then what the hell is the problem with it? What life shattering thing could possibly result that would have us labeled transphobic and the Grand Haters of transpersons?

Should we start slinging the same shit?

I mean..are you RadfemPHOBIC or something????

About two weeks ago my father asked me, “[Pisaquari], have you ever heard the phrase ‘too bold for her beauty’?” 

“No” I said, though smelling a patriarchal infestation immediately. 

“The DJ’s were talking about it this morning on the radio.  It was something their girlfriends [wives?] brought up.” 

Since I can no longer remember his version word for word I will summarize:Essentially, the significant others of these DJ’s had become cruel to a young woman who had newly begun hanging out with their “group”—group being those persons who made up the social gathering of friends and girlfriends to the DJ’s. 

 When the significant others were asked why they had become mean they responded “She is too bold for her beauty.” 

This was then explained as: this woman, being “beautiful” as she was (patriarchal standards mind us!), was too outspoken, too forthright for her looks.  For her beauty she would have to wait her turn to be accepted and to know what behavior was allowed—her embodiment of males’ physical desires to be balanced with blankness in mind and personality.   As well, this woman was further alienated by the other women for not having known this Truth and for not having exercised it in the company of other women. 

Dad asked me and my mom if this rule was true. 

Without a beat: “Yep!” said mom.  And then, bragging, “I was one of those girls too bold for her beauty.”                                                                                                                             (:::sigh::

My first thought was what great a clusterfuck of stupid, sadness, and oh-boy-patriarchy this was.

My own little self-esteem bubbles fizzled and I sort of snapped.                                                  

I said “Well were the DJ’s talking about her looks?!”                                                                  

“Not that I can remember,” said dad.  “They were just stunned some rule like this even existed.”  

 I told him I felt for all the women.   I felt for the woman who was born into looks-privilege, for her entire life she would be the center of a scam on hu-Man sexuality and her own self worth–that the “beautiful” women were owned at birth, forced into the sexualized and romanticized lens of males without a choice (anti-sexy anybody?).  Her genetic predisposition to patriarchy-approved face and body was an empty cause with no intrinsic value except to pit her against other women’s self esteem and appropriate more ladeez in the name of male entitlement to women’s physicalities and, you know, boners.  (and yes—I recognize *many* women indulge and exploit this).                                                                   

And, of course, I said I felt for the girlfriends/wives who knew too well their *place* amongst the Looks Hierarchy.  For how could they not?  How much of all our lives have we been forced to pick out amongst the crowd who the lucky lady is—who gets the attention of the masses.  Perhaps, sometimes, it’s us with the focus and we gladly welcome it.  Other times maybe we are second rate and note it quickly as the long-legged, long-lashed, high cheek-boned (or whatever) specimen walks in, much to the adoring googly-eyes of the men.  The DJ’s significant others probably used some much sharpened instincts to spot Patriarchy’s trophy wife when she came in.  And to counter this artificial Looks Hierarchy they had to create an artificial control mechanism—thus, “too bold for her beauty” was born.                 

too bold for her beauty                                                                                                                   

I was surprised such a perfect phrase, such a stunning summation of Universal woman-on woman hating had passed me by.                                                                                                     But really, it had’t.

For I too have hated myself for my looks.  I’ve hated other women for their looks.  I’ve gone hungry for a jeans size.  I had a shit relationship with my mirror for most of my adolescent years (now I would call it “decent”).  I’ve crapped multiple meals-laxatives-to feel empty (<irony there).  I’ve wished girlfriends would gain weight.  I’ve dressed in a way to deliberately pry attention from other women’s significant others to show those other women I had something over them.  I’ve visited make up counters to get pointers on how to better look like a *humble clown*.  I’ve made fun of people’s looks.  I’ve wanted someone for their looks.                                                                                                                                               And everything I’ve listed here has been done to me or been self-inflicted by those I have called friends or loved ones.

Absolutely there is a continuum that we all fall on and sure it shifts by person but let’s GET REAL.  There is a *reason* commercials sound like they are coming from an echo chamber.  There is a *reason* most women want to lose weight, look younger, have smooth skin, a tighter butt, perkier breasts, and wear make up.  There is a *reason* wrinkles are undesirable.  There is a *reason* women in other countries, where Westernization is occurring, are getting plastic surgery to look like women in America.  There is a *reason* ALL women, at some point in their life, suffer the bowels of low self-esteem from something so innocuous as “looks.”                                                                                                                                            And there is a *reason* men continue to reinforce this with their behavior.    

It comes with the territory: if you artificially pump value into the value-less (looks–as in, physical features) the loop holes will be large and the area/room for “error”, desperation, artificial goals and lotsa industries will be endless. 

Our physical features are an empty (involuntary for the most part) facet of us with no inherent connection to sharing meaningful experiences with each other. Yet they dictate so much.  They are used to facilitate and control our interactions at such a heightened level with such a broad scope. (yep, even seen/read radfems engaged in this nonsense–so no one is safe!) 

So it is with sadness and no great surprise that I drearily end this “too bold for her beauty” post in hopelessness: Looks Hierarchy goes on.  Self-hate goes on.  Tummy tucks go on.  Revlon goes on.  Woman-on-woman hating goes on.  “Beauty” goes on.

ALL of it–and not a bit of it worth our time.

Crazy brilliant.

Mandatory reading #2.

(This post spirals off the last one.)

Okay, so here is the scene: you are in a porn debate-the usual characters ablaze- and someone says this:

“Yes, I agree there is misogynistic porn but not ALL of it is misogynistic.  I don’t agree with the stuff that’s abusive and exploitative…”

  (you gotta love the middle-grounders, usually showing up like omnipresent peace-keepers because they’ve found a way to be “nonextremists!”)

So here is what I need to know: is anyone else ever confused by this?   The “there’s good stuff and then there’s bad stuff” point (?).  And just try to getting out of them what actually constitutes the “bad stuff”:

“You know, that stuff that degrades women”

No, the question is” what acts, what scene, what scenarios–how do you *know* it is degrading to women?”

So the wishy-washer finally takes a stab (thinking of total-worst-thing-ever, the always-misogyinistic-porn-no-matter-how-you-slice-it): 

“Like, let’s say the guy pushed the girl down and beats her to a pulp and then calls her a whore and then holds her head down while he pushes a barbed dildo inside her mouth–while kicking her…then calls her a bitch…then he shoots her…”

(ummmm…??) ::::Silence::::: ensues as radfems momentarily accept the raised bar: now there are guns–even sex pozzes are a little surprised  (*note: someone somewhere, however, wants to know where they can find this remarkable wankage footage).  A few wan fence-jumpers comment “yeah, so not nice!”  (And for a split of a split-second we have this smokescreen of agreement–cue dream sequence: Radfems and sex pozzes dust off the old champange bottles…kumbai gets pushed on the 8 track…the smell of glory…

HA! jk!)

 Because hold on one minute! 

Long-time-lurker-Lucy-whose-about-to-make-her-first-comment-ever! just has to say something. You see, she’s been reading this thread, and she is a feminist too and she and her boyfriend did this very thing last night!  (She’s got the bullet wound to prove it!)  And you know what?

She *chooses* to do this.  She wakes up every morning as a free agent with no abuse history and all these options and she *chooses* this.  So now what beeetches??!

Welllllll “fuck!”  Nice while it lasted, right?

Because we can’t question this person and, invariably, this porn because there is now proof someone can *choose* this type of sexual exchange.  Aren’t we now diminishing this woman’s choice somehow?  Is it possible for a woman contribute to, or participate in, a misogynistic act that is simultaneously chosen *and* orgasmic (bc. thats.never.happened).

And you and I both know, it doesn’t matter how awful/unhealthy/misogynistic the porn sounds/seems we are talking about–there will *always* be someone to show up with their power play and choice mantras (talking about sex like it’s a fucking magic trick: Consent–now you see it, now you don’t! TaDa!) to defend it.  

 The point I am getting at is: What’s choice got to do with misogyny?  Seriously.  As far as I’m concerned the only porn I’m even willing to discuss is the stuff people have consented to/made a choice to do–anything else is rape/molestation footage and I’d prefer it be in the hands of the authorities.  Misogyny and choice are NOT trade-offs.  Misogyny is essentially a prejudice and can be be blatantly fricking obvious or as covert as a timid bigot. But it does not end or begin at choice. 

 So because I feel misogyny is more than just choice and that the two are not mutually exclusive it means I am saying misogynistic porn has to be determined from a *message* standpoint only.  We have to be willing to ask why people are doing what they are doing, what dynamic it relies on and how it got there in the first place.   It does NOT mean I am saying the actors have not exercised “choice” (fly fly away red-herring) But it *does mean* that I am, even indirectly, accusing a woman of engaging in a form of hate speech and, again indirectly, calling her choice a poor one. And shouldn’t I, all feminist-and-shiz, be so utterly blown-over that this woman made a *choice* that I cease discussion?

And my answer is no. 

I cannot imagine dedicating an entire post to why I am not anti-sex.  No one should have to be so bored, so futilely engaged.

 If what I am about to object to is seen as synonymous with sex then you and I live on very different planets heading in two very different directions.  And I am not averse to telling you I think mine is more right.  If right is free, if right is a right turn out of Patriarchy Lane, that is.  

 I am anti-sexy. 

Anti ANYTHING that takes a form as sexy or trying to be sexy, or, only-succeeds-when-found-sexy.  I am anti use-sexy-to-get-rewards sexy.  Anti want-to-be-considered-sexy sexy.  Anti want-to-consider-others-as-sexy sexy. 

I don’t agree with jobs that rely on sexy.  I don’t agree with exchanges that rely on sexy.  I don’t agree with sexuality that relies on sexy.  I don’t agree with institutions, businesses, constructs that need sexy for existence. 

You might not be surprised then to find I am anti porn, stripping, BDSM, prostitution, hotness, objectification, cosmetic surgery.                                                                                                                                    I don’t need to hear about how you reclaimed sexy in porn, BDSM, stripping, prostitution, hotness, objectification, cosmetic surgery.  Sexy is not in your hands.  Sexy is the invasive appropriation of each others’ bodies and externalities.  Sexy is the lens you are forced to look through.  Sexy is the lens your are forced to be seen through.                                                                                                                  Sexy is a constant state of against-your-will, without-consent, what’s-yours-is-mine, without-permission.

I don’t need to hear how you feel sexy when you are reading a good book.  I don’t need to hear how your so-and-so thinks you’re sexier when you don’t have on make up or haven’t worked out in a little while.  Sexy does not care.  Sexy is only accounting for the role you play when you ignore your full human capacity.  Sexy assumed your role all along.  Sexy will still be there when you want out. 

I don’t need to hear how you are helping young girls who have otherwise been abused and tortured and slain by patriarchy regain their “sexiness.”  Sexy will not help. Sexy entitles our pleasure centers to others.     Sexy is the visual rape primaries.   

Stop with the Sexy already.  

To those caught up in trying to Save the Sexy, reshape The Sexy, regain, reclaim, refresh The Sexy—please, we are feminists—we’ve got enough to do.

To those enslaved by sexy, beaten by sexy, afraid because of sexy, hidden by sexy, appropriated by sexy, employed by sexy, abused by sexy,… my sincerest apologies. We are working on it.