Buried Alive

Blogging the “No” by pisaquaririse
April 1, 2008, 4:41 pm
Filed under: anek-doting, Grab a shovel, Interconnected!

via Editorializing the Editors:

“… my “no” needs to be heard. My “yes” is taken for granted already.”

And that is what I call a preciselyism–poignantly pointed. Prickly prick!

Using that I will clarify a little about this blog:

I blog for the “no.”

I cry for the “no.”

I want the “no.”

I take quite seriously the “no.”

My “no” is often ignored, often not heard or, at most, watered down into maybe/possibly/probably/she is just lying or kidding or prudish or a bitch or too [insert typical insult].

The “no” is commonly the cry unheard round the world.

The “no” is mocked.

The “no” is sexualized.

The”no” is muted in the daily lives of millions and millions and millions (…) of women.

In a patriarchy the “yes” sounds louder, the “yes” has more reverb, lasts longer. The “yes” is reinforced at every turn by media, by advertising, by men, by personal exchanges, by orgasms/smiles/serotonin, by nearly all public appearances. And at the fault of no woman: one woman’s “yes” counters twenty women’s “no.”

No is the after thought: the how-could-anyone-have-known , the too-far-away-to-care, the too-late.

No is not in the forefront. No is the shadow, the two sentence blurp in the news right before the cut to commercials where Revlon or a sitcom vignette tells us yes. No is the painful memory we must only tell in secret, in special meetings, in therapy groups, with psychiatrists who can provide enough forget-me-pills to drown out “no.”
“No” hides.

“No” delays.

“No” has no place.

“Yes” medicates the “no” away from itself. “Yes” blurs lines, blows smoke, masquerades, silences.

“Yes” is part of the entitlement infrastructure of patriarchy. Men are entitled to my “yes.” Women are entitled to my yes. Much of my life has been structured around the “yes.” I am lost in “yes” and smothered and beaten down and forced by “yes.”
I cannot count how many times I’ve been in a situation where I am three “yes’s” in by default, before I knew what was going on–before “no” was even presented as an option. I cannot count how many times my “no” never occurred to me, or how faintly it cried.

Now years later my memories speak louder the “no” I had all along, the “no” that now only baits pain in its own hindsight.

I want to yell “NO” louder with more blog posts.

I want to yell “NO” louder in my own life (and often that strength comes from this online community).

I want to listen closer so I can hear the “NO!” that shames itself into a whisper in the voices of the women around me.

I want “NO!” to startle and affect.

I want with everything I have to compensate for the everywhere-allthetime-everywoman “yes”–not a balance, not a crowd pleasing 50/50 but unapologetically, not even beginning to teeter on evenness, NO.

In this space, on this blog, under my moderation, NO gets the mic. NO is assumed, is admitted, is discovered, is the obvious, is the default. NO is shameless and forthright and annoyed and understanding and scared.

NO is loud. Listen.

RadfemPhobia by pisaquaririse
March 17, 2008, 6:35 pm
Filed under: anek-doting, gender pimps, Grab a shovel, Interconnected!, WhatAboutMEEEE

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????

Feminists who came before by pisaquaririse
February 28, 2008, 5:45 am
Filed under: Interconnected!, VENT!

Inspired by a quote via Deb’s I’m addressing something I’ve been meaning to for a while. I want to talk about ageism as it pertains to women and feminism.

 Fact: I’m young in the birthdays sense (nope, you’re not getting a number outta me!).  I have however, generally recognized, supported and promoted a very “second wave” feminism.  I don’t do so to deliberately pit myself against those in similar age or fancy myself *better* because I’ve aligned with an older crew—that would be ageist. (I do, in actuality, agree with 2nd wave feminism and have for quite some time). 

But what would also be ageist would be to ignore the women who came before *because* of their age, to feel their time has come and gone—that somehow my newer existence means my ideas and thoughts should be pushed ahead.  That I am more relevant.  

 I have encountered plenty of (too many) feminists online and off, as well as women of varying ages, who flat out don’t want to hear from older feminists/other older women.  And they aren’t alone.  “Old people” as they are called are ignored and mocked and, for general purposes, hated.  (I’m going to continue to use “old” from hear on out to address it more as a societal phenomenon than any particular way *I* label people). 

The young hate the old.   The old hate the old.   And if either had their druthers about who to get the latest scoop from on women’s condition it certainly wouldn’t be the old.   

The following portion of Deb’s quote especially moved me:

“What happened to the idea of respecting the elders. Didn’t we recognize the many ways patriarchy works in our culture and vow to disentangle ourselves?” 

It occurred to me in reading this (pisaquari can be slooooow) how disrespecting our elders works in a patriarchal society: it largely silences older women.  And more so, it silences feminists—for whom worse to learn the ways of the world than old, lonely deviates.  Sweet older order would not have it. 

If patriarchy can silence older women it can stop the flow of information, it can stagnate us.  When older women speak they are ignored or not believed—and this is only accounting for the times someone is there to listen. 

For feminism it creates a kind of perpetual motion, wherein we become hamsters on a wheel, regurgitating the same ole stuff and calling it new.   

And if there is one recurring theme I have found in reading and blogging and immersing myself in this movement it’s that:                                                                                              This stuff has been said before. 

What takes me months to figure out (if not, years) is in 8 different books already or has been said for hundreds of years and here I am just now connecting the dots (if I may utilize a patriarchal concept here: how inefficient!). 

 I find it sort of unimaginable to think about where women could be right now if our time was not so exhausted getting to these points—getting a fuller understanding of what’s already been done/said.  What would the world look like (or how would it operate wrt women) if this knowledge base were more readily available—if our herstory and experiences were a part of our everyday growing and understanding.   

The women who have come before are not so different, are not so foreign to us that we cannot share and learn and continue to grow together.  Who are we to say amongst the living whose time is up?  When we reestablish these divides we disservice ourselves, entire generations, and an entire movement.  (And I should mention, very seriously, that I signed up for movement). 

Feminists who came before, in many ways, are our revolution.

!!! Radfem *Come To Hay-Zeus* Meeting!!!! by pisaquaririse
February 24, 2008, 7:02 pm
Filed under: Grab a shovel, Interconnected!, Nail the coffin

All right radfems of the Radfem Conspiracy Movement please answer the following… 

Have you or any other radfem you know ever done the following things:

1.  Said those involved in the sex industry do not deserve protection and safety.

2. Shamed or blamed a woman for her sexual behaviors.

3. Shamed or blamed a person for his/her activities or behaviors simply on the merit that they partake in those behaviors or activities.

–Extra credit to those who layout what they define as “blame” and “shame,” and how one manages to hate the system but not the individual.

Go little post…

Sociology 101: Innate vs. “I can’t help it…” by pisaquaririse
February 23, 2008, 7:10 pm
Filed under: Grab a shovel, Interconnected!, WhatAboutMEEEE

 (This post has been in draft stage for a while on the computer–needing some sort of catalyst to finish it.  I found Laurelin’s latest strikingly similar–my post being more a microcosm as hers.  So I have linked in suggesting you go read it!)

 My last semester of college, as an elective, I took a general sociology course.  For two days out of one week we talked about gender and what it meant to be a “girl/woman” or “boy/guy/man” (<<notice how they get the in-betweener “guy” stage so the poor dears don’t have to be infantilized/considered weak for TOO long). 

You can’t believe how progressive it was: the males assuring the females “I don’t mind splitting the house chores!” and the females, “I’m going to be a working mommy!”–the class was really on to something.

Then the teacher, brave as she was, brought up the topic of the intersexed.  This sort of stopped conversations, cue: uncomfortable vibe.  She asked the class if, as parents, they bore an intersexed child, how would they handle the gender.

Unsettling quiet. 

One white male in the room who sort of always unnerved me–you could cut his privilege with a butcher knife–snidely looked around the room:  his progeny would never bear such a “defect!”

Then a hand in the front row.  The guy that always bragged his girlfriend was “!!so totally awesome!!” because she “let” him play video games said, thoughtfully:  “I would paint one side of the room blue and the other side pink and see what side the baby crawled to.”

Teacher thinks for a minute.

Still alert portions of the class nod their heads slowly.

Pisaquari dies.




 Kidding,kidding,kidding!  I didn’t die (you wish!).

Nope and to be completely honest I didn’t say anything.  The teacher just two weeks prior had made some unintelligible remarks about “extreme feminists” (ewwwww) not shaving or wearing make up.  So I busied myself in the back row braiding my armpit hairs…

Because, you see, what did this awesome class teach us the first week of the semester? 

We learned: “What is a social construct?”                                                                                    

And why did we learn this? 

Because, as the course was set up, social constructs would be foundationally responsible for all that we’d learn about human behavior, sociologically speaking.

And what the hell happened, you think, during *EVERY* class discussion?  Of course, someone brought up that people can’t help doing X because YandZ are genetic/inherited/have been happening since men were using clubs on their wives/the birth of baby Jesus (right around the time we got prostitution and Earth).

And no, I don’t think the teacher agreed with everything.  The impression I got was that she was non-confrontational. 

(Believe it or not: the moral of this story is not “college students are getting dumber and dumber.”  Though I wouldn’t fight it.)      

I would have been a real pisser had I been all “Actually–there is no scientific proof we come out of the wombs preferring colors due to our genitalia” or something equally offensive because these people had proof: They always liked their assigned whatever for as long as they could remember. And they still do–they *can’t help it*.

Can’t-help-it became synonymous with innate/genetic in the class and I don’t see it so much differently on the internets.  What often feels like an impossible change usually manifests as our perception of our “natural selves” or the way nature has MADE us, separate of our abilities to change.  But what isn’t taken into consideration is how largely those feelings can be/are connected to some very strong social constructs.  And I do mean strong–as in, my increased risk for a certain kind of cancer is seen as big a biological truth as my early attachment to dolls. 

I conjecture, what might be complicating this, is that normally we don’t *feel* our biology or genetics so much.  Of course as we age or, as certain inherited diseases take over, this changes (and even then I would argue our experiences of those are still affected as sifted through social constructs).  What we feel a majority of the time about a majority of our experiences is based in, and relying on, social constructs. 

And my point isn’t that those constructs are always bad or doomed–all it means is that they are subject to change (as so many have) and are game for discussion/modification/obliteration.  It also doesn’t mean I think anyone is a *bad person* or to *blame* for feeling as if they cannot change what is being discussed.  I can imagine much of what happens in our formative years seems quite dormant and innocuous–the subsequent effects manifesting in ways we still have trouble measuring.

But we cannot assume that *feeling* as if we cannot  help something means it is our biological truth.  In fact, as I explained here, I would argue it works the opposite way. 

And if we are going to argue for change or revolution, naming our *feelings* as innate will be a massive undertaking of Square One-ing.  That is, an immobile approach to improvement.   Our feelings are important to evidence where we stand on certain matters, how far we have to go, how far we are willing to go in a certain lifetime, etc….  But they are not evidence of our possibilities or capabilities.

That they keep getting misconstrued as such is both insulting and limiting.

Too Bold for Her Beauty by pisaquaririse
February 19, 2008, 6:58 pm
Filed under: anek-doting, gender pimps, Interconnected!

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.

Feminism and Choice by pisaquaririse
February 7, 2008, 3:02 am
Filed under: Interconnected!, WhatAboutMEEEE

I am a feminist.                                                                                                                                                                                                                  I I want equality for women. 

Do you hear that?  *I*/memememe want (what I consider to be) *equality* for (persyns other than myself) women.  We should break down those implications:

1.      I have decided women are in a state of inequality.

2.      I have decided what equality is and thus what a break in equality would look like.

3.      There are women in stories and statistics, whom I have never spoken with, and whom I have *judged* as experiencing/having experienced oppression/wrongdoings.

4.      I have decided for other women that they are living in a patriarchal society.

5.      I have made comments and opined on the condition of reproductive rights, equal pay, child care, family, sex education, the sex industry, beauty standards, etc..and their effects on women as a collection of people whom I have not gotten full consent to do so. 

6.      I have called for change on reproductive rights, equal pay, child care, family, sex education, the sex industry, beauty standards, etc.. when I have yet to hear from all the women that would be affected, not knowing if they agree or if they would have picked the same thing. 

I have taken my total life experiences and knowledge and projected MY view of a better world onto OTHER womyn.  I will likely never speak to or know so much as 10% of the womyn on this planet and yet HERE I AM.  (The audacity!) 

I have assumed some form of choice for other women.    

So PLEASE tell me feminists how YOU have managed to give a rats ass about OTHER women without PRESUMING some of THEIR CHOICE or CONDITION.  PLEASE *someone tell me* how you proclaim FEMINISM, a cause wherein YOU have DECIDED PEOPLE OTHER THAN YOURself-and for whom you DO NOT KNOW-are OPPRESSED, may call other feminists JUDGMENTAL.

AND PLEASE, for the love of Goddess, tell me HOW IT DOES US ANY FRICKIN GOOD to DERAIL a conversation into the ME-GAME when all of a sudden it’s SOMETHING YOU DO that is getting called out.

We don’t/shouldn’t have to agree all the time—but we are ALL engaging in some form of JUDGING here, some form of presumption that has NOT engaged EVERY SINGLE WOMAN involved in the matter.  To try and DEMONIZE each other if the convo turns YOUR direction is HYPOCRITICAL and a COMPLETE WASTE of our energy when we could otherwise be talking about WHY WE FEEL THAT WAY and how to, ohhh-I-dunno, HELP!  


If you have at ANY point called yourself a FEMINIST or made a statement about/voted for a policy (etc.) that affects WOMEN OTHER THAN YOURSELF whom you DO NOT KNOW/HAVE NOT SPOKEN WITH then YOU TOO have partaken in an act of PRESUMING CHOICE for other women.    

Grown Ass Kid by pisaquaririse
February 2, 2008, 8:16 pm
Filed under: Grab a shovel, Interconnected!

Short Rant: 

Why oh why of why’s is “adulthood” a hands-off status?

Why do “adults” think, when going about justifying an action, mentioning their departure from childhood matters?  That they now have the golden ticket to great decision making, or, more, that such decisions are above questioning because they are “adults”?

*When*, and at *what point* in history have “adults” totally gotten it right??

(I’m probably just blind–are toddlers the ones oppressing now? I know we are getting close but still…) 

 If you are a person you are not above questioning.  Alive or, even dead, your existence is imposing consequences on the rest of us and when you mark even part of your life/actions untouchable/unquestionable for WHATEVER reason you are aiding in the problem.   

Partriarchy in all it’s ageism will have you think your legal status/age is somehow equivalent with your ability to “do the right thing.”  But that’s a covert operation to keep you and others down, and hide the mechanisms being used against you. It means we turn off, turn away, stop thinking, and acquiesce. 

It means we keep playing dress up believing it is our (T)ruth. (re Gender)

 It means we keep playing house, only to depressingly become emotionally and financially invested in props.

Word Price Index by pisaquaririse
January 23, 2008, 7:22 pm
Filed under: Grab a shovel, Interconnected!



And I think for us to move forward with certain necessary changes we will have to stop using that phrase.   

We wouldn’t use speech if it were free—if it didn’t have meaning or value.  Then what would be the point?  (If you think you are bubble on Mars or that your levels of consciousness occur somewhere in the 6thdimension of time and space separate of your affective-ness then I’ve got a tinfoil hate with your name on it*.)

Humans have not reached droid status yet–predictions on when we will, however, are fodder for the comments section.

What the first amendment is really saying is that we should be able to use speech freely and without government interference.  I agree with that.  But people actually think speech is free–that it is practically void of its own currency.  (Or more, likely, they want to believe this rubbish because they are irresponsible toads without concern for others).

For radical feminism, the value of speech is set by how far it will take us from patriarchy.  Because speech was essentially made by Man we already have some parameters in place that make this process difficult.  But let’s compound that with the rest of reality: the majority of people on this Earth do not think like radical feminists/feminists, or are in anyway concerned for women’s condition, and a good many claiming to be so are more concerned with how many men find them sexy then how many women can rid themselves of the terror.

So what does that do to the speech that we use daily to try and explain our situation, or appeal to and help others?  It fucks it up.  We must constantly navigate this Feminist Word Market, making more words and concepts expensive or valuable so that when they are used they relay the kind of distance from patriarchy we are going for.  (For example, I wish I could put the word “liberate” in a vault for a thousand years with the combination inscribed on some rock on Radical Feminist Island found only by using the Radical Feminist Treasure map.)

So let us do a little exercise that includes a short economics lesson (this will not be a perfect analogy).   

Inflation= the consistent rise in prices that leads to each dollar being buying less and less of a good/service.  Basically, a decrease in one’s purchasing power.

Analogous definition:

Inflation= consistent overuse of words that leads to a decrease in ability to convey desired level of patriarchy-distancing.  Basically, words lose ability to “purchase” certain distances from patriarchy. 

Okay, I will start a list (obviously, you can contest this list, and-please-explain why–the exercise is the point). 

Inflated words













* “Dumbass”