It's not about the orgasms: on the importance of sex positivity

(Trigger warning: brief discussion of rape culture)

Occasionally, I run into people who ask me why I feel compelled to talk publicly about sex all the time. (Often, these people are my older relatives.) Partly, it’s that I’m a very open person. My close friends all know that there’s basically no such thing as “too much information” with me, and anyone I’ve talked to for more than ten minutes has probably heard some ridiculous story involving some kind of young person shenanigans. But my openness about sex goes way beyond my lack of personal boundaries. I talk about sex because I’m a huge fan of sex positivity as a force for social good.

Sex positivity, for me, is all about destigmatizing sex. It’s rooted in the belief that sex is something natural, and that however you’re choosing to be sexual (monogamous or not, regardless of your gender or your partner’s gender, with as many or as few people as you’d like) is perfectly fine. As long as what you’re doing is between consenting adults, you’re good. And if you’re asexual or choose to abstain from sex for personal, moral, religious or any other set of reasons, that’s perfectly fine too (as long as you don’t try to legislate compliance with your particular breed of morality).

A lot of people have talked a lot about the benefits of sex-positivity when you’re actually having sex with people. I’ve found in my own experience that feeling comfortable with your sexual desires leads to better communication and way more fun in bed. My friend has an awesome list of sex tips based on our experience  together that reflect this idea pretty well if you’re not sold yet. But that’s not what I want to talk about right now, because the importance of sex positivity goes way beyond having good sex.

Being sex positive is a deeply political act with hugely important consequences. In a culture which stigmatizes sexual activity, female pleasure, non-heterosexual orientations, trans* people, bodies which don’t conform to beauty ideals or gender expectations and a whole host of other things, having mutually fulfilling sex with another person sometimes feels like a revolutionary act. In this context, sex positivity hasn’t just given me lots of good orgasms. It’s also the reason I’ve been able to have healthy, successful relationships, love and respect myself and my body, remain STI-free and help friends out in tricky situations. I don’t say this as a “Look at me, I’m doing everything so well!” I say it because I think it’s important to recognize what people are attacking when they try to make moral arguments about sex, and how much sex negativity spills over into mental and physical health.

By teaching that desire is normal and fine and that women can be sexual, sex positivity moves away from the conquest model of sex. Popular culture often promotes the idea that sex is a conquest—men are pursuing women, women are being coy and shy and demure. Women are expected to fend off male advances; men are expected to be aggressive and know that women often say no when they mean something else. Unsurprisingly, this cultural construct directly leads to sexual assault (and also ignores non-binary identities and non-heterosexual relationships). If men are taught that no doesn’t mean no, and if women are taught that they should give in to men, problems are going to ensue. This is something that the anti-sex crowd doesn’t like to acknowledge, but promoting the idea that sex=bad also contributes directly to rape culture. If all sex is bad or immoral, then non-consensual acts just become another form of immoral conduct. There are religious traditions where all sex outside of marriage is considered immoral—doesn’t matter if it was consensual or not.

Sex positivity, in contrast, promotes what I would call a communication model of sex. Because I was taught that my body and my desires were okay, I’ve always felt comfortable articulating what I want and need in sexual situations. When I had partners who wanted to go further than I did, I was able to bring it up with them. On the rare occasion that someone hasn’t respected my boundaries, I’ve been able to articulate that clearly and unambiguously, and it’s generally resulted in an immediate apology. When I wanted to be sexual with people, I felt confident enough in my own desires to talk about it with them (instead of adhering to Cosmo’s advice to just slap some handcuffs on your guy in bed without any conversation). When I’ve had partners propose things in bed that seemed weird to me, I knew enough to talk it out with them instead of saying, “OMG WHAT YOU LIKE THAT GROSS!” Not surprisingly, my long-term relationships have benefitted from this communication. I’ve been able to enjoy good sex in an environment where I felt comfortable saying something if things weren’t working out.

This confidence also translates into physical health realm. Not being ashamed of sex means I haven’t been ashamed to seek out medical care when I need it. (I’ve also been privileged enough to have access to high-quality, affordable medical care for my whole life.) I’ve gotten comprehensive STI testing every year and felt comfortable seeking out medical care for things like yeast infections. I’ve asked questions about birth control and abortions, been able to choose methods of preventing pregnancy that were right for me, and checked in regularly with my gynecologist and sexual partners about those methods. The fact that I am able to do that is thanks to decades of fighting for reproductive healthcare. The fact that I feel comfortable doing it has a lot to do with the way I was raised to think about sex.

As a spillover benefit, the fact that I’m vocal about these issues means that friends seek me out for advice. I’ve given advice to friends dealing with everything from broken condoms to pain during intercourse. I’ve helped multiple people get emergency contraception when they needed it. And I know that I’ve been helped immensely by the presence of other sex positive people in my life. I’ve sought out advice from my friends for all kinds of things like this, and I’m better off and healthier for it.

I have a decent number of friends who are uncomfortable with sex—some of them think it’s something wrong, others just think it should be private and not openly discussed. And while I respect those opinions, I think a public conversation about sex is essential, especially as long as we live in a culture which stigmatizes the act itself and those who enjoy it. Talking openly about sex isn’t about bragging, and it isn’t about having amazing orgasms. It’s about health, both physical and mental. It’s about preventing unwanted pregnancies. It’s about promoting body positivity and fighting rape culture. It’s about declaring—unambiguously, clearly, proudly—that this is my body, and I’m going to enjoy all of the things it can do.

Some shit I'm angry about

1) The absurd number of feminists, and people in general, who refuse to consider trans women to be women. The fact that the Michigan Womyn's Festival STILL has  a "womyn born womyn" only entry policy. Having a vagina is not what makes you a woman. THIS IS NOT COMPLICATED.

2) White, cis feminists who refuse to acknowledge how disproportionately violence affects trans women and women of color. While I might be at higher risk for rape or domestic violence because of my gender, the likelihood that I will be on receiving end of violence goes way down because I'm white and cisgender. This is also true for pay gaps and just about every other feminist issue you can think of. Saying that is not in any way diminishing the seriousness of feminist concerns. It's just true. Feminism that isn't deliberately, consciously intersectional and self-critical at all times is BULLSHIT. Anyone who feels otherwise should do some serious self-reflection/just be a better person.

3) The fact that so many people conflate the two meanings of privilege and refuse to understand what people mean when they discuss privilege. "Privileged" can mean lucky in a single-instance sense, like when you feel privileged to be somebody's friend or privileged to be nominated for an award. Systematic, institutionalized privilege is a different thing, and it's a very real thing. I benefit from white privilege, as do all white people, regardless of their level of education, gender, income, sexuality, etc. I can walk down the street at night in a hoodie with a reasonable expectation that I won't be shot or harassed by the police. If I ever am a victim of violence or sexual assault, I have a reasonable expectation that the police will believe me and take my complaints seriously. The fact that I might be oppressed because of patriarchy doesn't make my white privilege any less of a thing. Bringing up the individual circumstances of your life that are less-than-optimal when someone is discussing systematic oppression is a form of derailing. Stop, listen, shut up. It's not that complicated.

4) The large number of people who are willing to get on their moral high horse about being vegan or vegetarian who are unwilling to a) get anywhere near as riled up about the horrible treatment of the PEOPLE in our food system, notably migrant farm workers or b) critically examine the way PETA's ads normalize violence against women and exoticize women of color. How do you care more about a cow being slaughtered than about people being held in slavery on Florida's tomato plantations? I do not mean metaphorical slavery or wage slavery, I mean literal, no-pay, threats-of-violence, held-against-their-will SLAVERY. I mean, I get the sympathy for cows and stuff. I'm not condoning factory farming, and I want to smash corporate industrial food systems and slaughterhouses. But seriously, people, PRIORITIES.

5) The border. Just seriously. Why is that even a thing? Why do we need a WALL to separate us from Mexico? And more to the point, all the people who say, "Well, they should just come here LEGALLY like MY (white) ANCESTORS DID." Like bro, seriously. It's a 20 year wait for a visa if you're a Mexican national with a close relative already living in the U.S. Twenty years. And also WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO JUDGE SOMEONE ELSE'S MOTIVATIONS FOR COMING TO THIS COUNTRY? Like, what gives you the right to go to like 90 countries with nothing more than a passport while we build a wall to keep the brown people out? Nothing. Don't say U.S. citizenship, because that is a social construction. There is nothing inherent in you as a person that makes you any more deserving. Nothing.

There are a lot more I could say, but those especially. If you're a friend who's unclear about any of these points, please ask me. I don't mind trying to help out with information; I do mind people who are wilfully ignorant.

Rachel's Official Guide to Learning More About Shit Going on in the World

Quite frequently, I get people who ask me for recommended reading lists or a list of books they can read to be better informed about stuff going on in the world. After a number of friends from my study abroad program asked me to make a reading list for them so they could be more on top of politics and other news, I started thinking. While I do read a lot of nonfiction, the books I’ve read aren’t the only source of my knowledge about stuff. I spend at least as much time reading articles online, following people on Twitter and doing other things to stay informed. So rather than make a book list, I made this: Rachel’s Official Guide to Learning More About Shit Going on in the World. It’s a booklist with article links, recommendations for people to follow and stuff like that, vaguely grouped by topic, but generally sort of free form. It's based on my personal experience and is thus completely subjective, noncomprehensive and biased. Hopefully this is helpful to everyone who wants to understand where my brain picks up the information it does. Comments, questions, criticisms and additions are highly appreciated/encouraged. I will also make additions as I encounter and remember more cool stuff. (Disclaimer: I am pretty damn far left of center, a fact which I make no apologies for, but which certainly informs my news sources and the things I choose to read. I think being better-informed is a nonpartisan activity, but my Twitter feed also doesn't contain a single political commentator who self-identifies as conservative except the National Review Online. Just sayin'.)

a general note about finding cool stuff to read online

I get my online news primarily four ways:

1) Twitter. I follow a group of magazines, newspapers, journalists, bloggers, people who are paid to think, etc. My timeline thus usually somewhat reflects what’s going on in the world of lefty politics, environmental news and the like, without me having to individually check the websites of everyone cool who I try to pay attention to.

Some people I would highly recommend for having a well-rounded feed:

Pro Publica (nonprofit indie investigative journalism)

Grist (environmental news)

Feministing (awesome feminist blog)

The New York Times

Mother Jones (my favorite nonprofit journalists ever)

Colorlines (racial justice analysis and news)

RH Reality Check (reproductive and sexual health and access news)

AlterNet (leftist news)

Occupy Wall Street

GOOD (a magazine covering a variety of topics, generally into highlighting cool stuff people are doing)

Naomi Klein (author of The Shock Doctrine, commentator on various issues)

High Country News (news about the American West, strong environmental coverage)

Wikileaks (they open governments, apparently)

Al Jazeera English (great global coverage)

2) Reddit. If you're unaware, reddit is a social news site grouped by topic. Basically, users can subscribe to different sub-reddits focusing on different subjects, which can be general (politics, environment) or very specific (Occupy Wall Street, guerrilla gardening). Users submit links to different sub-reddits, which are then voted up or down by other users. So the front page of any given reddit displays links that are the most well-liked by the community as a whole. And your personal front page displays the same for all the sub-reddits you subscribe to. It's a pretty cool way of finding weird articles you otherwise might not about stuff you're interested in. Plus, you can comment on links and generate discussions with other interested people.

3) Longform.org and longreads.org. These two sites collect submissions of longform journalism--generally articles that take at least 10 or so minutes to read. They both post a few new articles each day. Longform has articles organized by topic, so if you want to learn a lot about a particular country or issue, it can be a great source. Longreads lets you search all their articles for keywords of interest. Both sites will also post content that's timely, such as collections of articles about Steve Jobs right after he died. In general, they're best for going deep into interesting or random things, or for people who just appreciate good writing, and less good for keeping up on current events.

4) The New York Times. While somewhat vanilla, it's a damn good all-around general news source. If you’re not a subscriber, you can get access to something like 20 articles online per month free. Articles you click on links to (for example, via Twitter, Facebook, or email) don’t count against this limit. Another good daily general news sources is the BBC. Also The Economist.

One other thing: more than being about following the right people on Twitter or reading the best articles out there, being well-informed is mostly a choice. You have to decide that you're going to dedicate a certain amount of time every day, whether it's ten minutes or three hours, to figuring out what's going on in the world. By all means, go for what you're interested in. I follow reproductive healthcare issues very closely, because it's something I care deeply about. I didn't pay as much attention to the Arab Spring as I probably should have, because it just didn't grab me. There are far too many things going on in the world for you to ever know all of them. Don't let it stop you from getting started.

Now then, here are some specific topics I care about with books and articles that I think are especially helpful for understanding them.

food and food politics

1) books

The Omnivore’s Dilemma—Michael Pollan

The classic explaining what’s wrong with our industrial food system, especially industrial meat and corn, and how we might go about fixing it. Not a great analysis of some key food justice issues, like food deserts and access to healthy options, but a great introduction to what’s out there.

Fast Food Nation—Eric Schlosser

I actually like this a lot better than Omnivore’s Dilemma. It explores the history of fast food and looks at industrial potato farming, flavor additives, slaughterhouses and a whole bunch of other related issues. My favorite part is the fact that he looks at industrial meat production from a labor standpoint, not just from a this-is-gross-and-unethical perspective.

Animal Factory—David Kirby

For people interested in factory farms, this book is a nice break from the usual literature focused on animal torture and gross health violations. It focuses on the efforts of local activists in rural areas (all self-identified Republicans) to stop factory farms near their homes because of human health and odor concerns. It's a refreshingly personal and unique perspective.

Stuffed and Starved—Raj Patel

This is an awesome book about global food politics. It's a bit academic in tone, and has been criticized for being one-sided with regard to the causes of poverty in developing countries. But I think it has a ton of interesting perspectives about government food policy, genetically modified crops and a bunch of other important topics.


Tomatoland: How Modern Industrial Agriculture Destroyed Our Most Alluring Fruit—Barry Estabrook
The title of this book is somewhat misleading, because the majority of it is actually about the slave labor used to grow most Florida tomatoes and the way undocumented immigrants are exploited for cheap fruit (which, in my opinion, is even more interesting). Though it also talks about tomato genes, organic producers and a few other things. But anyway, it's an awesome book, whether you're into good food, social justice, immigrant rights, or whatever.


Sweet Charity: Emergency Food and the End of Entitlement—Janet Poppendieck
This is an awesomely thought-provoking book. The author essentially argues that food banks and other food giveaway things have done more harm than good in addressing food insecurity in the US. She discusses how American values, such as not wasting food, inform the kinds of actions being taken to address hunger, and how the concept of "poverty" has been almost completely redefined as an issue of "hunger".

Empty Pleasures: The Story of Artificial Sweeteners from Saccharin to Splenda—Carolyn de la Pena
A great cultural history of artificial sweeteners, including where they came from, how they were marketed, how gender and a desire for "control" played into their popularity and how efforts to regulate or control them have been resisted.

2) articles

On Racialicious, an awesome essay about growing up in a food desert.

My own blog post from this summer: what I learned about food justice and food "choice" during two years behind a checkstand.

How Goldman Sachs gambled on starvation.

From Foreign Policy magazine, the new geopolitics of food.

The Seattle Times explores what quinoa's rising popularity in affluent countries has done to Bolivia and other exporters.

3) blogs and sites for news

Tom Philpott, food blogger for Mother Jones

Food Safety News

Raj Patel's blog

financial crisis

In general, there are a few great journalists who have covered the collapse very well from different angles. 

Matt Taibbi at Rolling Stone has some great articles explaining how we got here and ranting about the moral bankruptcy of Wall Street. He's also written a few books about the crash, most recently Giftopia, which would be good for further reading. Among his articles, these are my favorites:
-Is the Securities and Exchange Comission (SEC) covering up Wall Street crimes?

-On the lack of enforcement: Why Isn't Wall Street in Jail?
-Wall Street's Bailout Hustle

Michael Lewis of Vanity Fair has also written extensively about the collapse, focusing more on the Euro Zone. His article on Greece, "Beware of Greeks Bearing Bonds", is a great explanation of the state of Greece's economy. He's also covered Ireland and what all these failing Euro countries will mean for Germany. He's written several books as well--The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine, which explores the housing market/derivative crisis through the eyes of people who saw it coming; and Boomerang: Travels in the New Third World, which looks at the economies that have been collapsing around the world.

Bethany McLean, also with Vanity Fair, has covered investment baking for a while (she was one of the journalists who broke the Enron story). She has an excellent article exploring the disconnect between how we see Goldman Sachs and how the company sees itself, post-crash, and another piece on the history of Merril Lynch and how its corporate culture contributed to the mortgage crisis.

A German paper, Spiegel, did an excellent, if somewhat dry, series explaining the collapse of the Euro Zone very clearly. (Parts one, two and three.)

Mother Jones, my favorite magazine ever, has a timeline from 2008 tracing the history of the housing/financial crisis.

American society/culture/labor

Reefer Madness—Eric Schlosser
By the Fast Food Nation guy, this book explores the underground economy in the US by looking at three markets: marijuana, porn, and illegal immigrant labor. It's a fascinating history of drug wars, obscenity laws and a bunch of other random things.

Methland—Nick Reding
One of my favorite books ever. It explores what the meth epidemic has done to small-town America, which means that in addition to being about drugs, it talks about the crippling effects that job loss and industrial agriculture have had in rural areas.

Nickle and Dimed—Barbara Ehrenreich
A classic from the mid-90s. The author goes "undercover" and works a variety of minimum-wage jobs to see how hard it is to survive. Not the most eye-opening today if you pay attention to the real world, but it puts a face on problems that can seem abstract.

The Working Poor—David Shipley
Kind of a more modern updated of Nickle and Dimed, the authors goes around and interviews a bunch of working poor people. It's a nicely balanced book—the fact that some of the individuals he profiles have made bad choices or have problems like drug addiction isn't glossed over, but Shipley also looks at structural factors that have kept working people in poverty.

The single best summary I've ever read of Ayn Rand's crazy libertarian/"Objectivist" philosophy, why the right is infatuated with it, and why it's completely wrong.


environmental stuff
Cadillac Desert—Marc Reisner
A classic looking at the history of dam building in the US, mostly the American West. It examines the politics that led to so many stupid dams getting approved and some of the financial and environmental ramifications.

Dead Pool: Lake Powell, Global Warming and the Future of Water in the West—James Powell
A more updated book about Western water politics, looking at the future of the Colorado River Basin as global warming starts diminishing water supplies.

Chasing Molecules—Elizabeth Grossman
An environmental chemistry exploration of biologically pervasive molecules (like flame retardants and dioxins) and the health effects they're having on people. Informative and easy to read.

Endgame (Volume 1: The Problem of Civilization and Volume 2: Resistance)—Derrick Jensen
This is by one of my favorite authors, the anti-civilization activist Derrick Jensen. He's very radical, and I disagree with him on several key things, but his writing does a beautiful job of tying together seemingly disparate problems like pollution, sweatshop labor, the prison-industrial complex and rape. Other good books of his to check out are A Language Older Than Words, The Culture of Make Believe and Thought to Exist in the Wild: Awakening from the Nightmare of Zoos.

If a Tree Falls: The Story of the Earth Liberation Front
An awesome documentary about ELF which raises great questions about what kinds of activism are effective, what should be considered terrorism, etc. Available on Netflix Instant as well.

FLOW: For Love of Water
A documentary looking at corporate privatization of the world's water supplies. Also on Netflix Instant.


US-Mexico border/immigration
The Devil's Highway—Luis Alberto Urrea
The story of the Yuma 14, a group of 26 Mexican migrants whose story started with a journey across the Arizona desert and ended with fourteen of them being flown home in bodybags. A great examination of the way US border policies contribute to deaths in the desert, beautifully written.

Amexica: War Along the Borderline—Ed Vulliamy
The most comprehensive border book I've ever read, tying together the drug trade, illegal immigration, the rise of maquilas, the effects of free trade agreements, the murders and violence in Ciudad Juarez and elsewhere, poverty and everything else you can think of. He's also written an article for The Nation, As Juarez Falls.

Murder City: Ciudad Juarez and the Global Economy's New Killing Fields—Charles Bowden
Bowden has covered the border for at least 20 years, and his latest book looks at the violence in Ciudad Juarez as a phenomenon that has gone beyond a simple explanation, like drug wars. He argues that Juarez has reached a tipping point where violence is part of the social order and that the breakdown of Juarez tells us a lot about the future of global capitalism.

The New York Times Magazine looks at the relationship between the border cities of Ciudad Juarez, the murder capital of the world, and El Paso, Texas, one of the safest cities in the US.

Business Week examines the labor market in the US in the wake of Alabama's strict immigration laws. Turns out a lot of Americans don't want to do the jobs left behind.




development, aid, international relations, global issues
The Shock Doctrine—Naomi Klein
If you want to read one book to learn as much as possible about the world, read this one. It's a history of the way neoliberal economic theory (privatization, deregulation, etc.) has been applied all over the world by the US, the IMF and the World Bank, for the benefit of private corporations and wealthy/powerful individuals, usually with disastrous consequences for the people actually living in these countries. Even if you believe that neoliberal policies have benefited these countries in the long run, it sheds light on the complete lack of democratic process which often accompanies Chicago School economic policy.

Half the Sky—Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn
A look at the ways women are oppressed around the world, from sex slavery to maternal mortality, which highlights NGOs and initiatives that are making a difference. Focuses more on local, grassroots groups than on big NGOs like CARE and Heifer International, which I like (though those guys are in there too).

An awesome interview with Michael Maren, a former Peace Corps volunteer and aid worker, analyzing why aid has been completely useless for developing countries. (Another book, The White Man's Burden by William Easterly, also argues this thesis. I haven't read it personally, but it's supposed to be pretty good.)

GQ has an awesome three-part series on the international sex trade. Part one is about sex clubs in the Philippines, part two is about sex trafficking and part three looks at sex tourism in Costa Rica.

My hometown paper, the Seattle Stranger, has a series investigating why cocaine showing up in Seattle was being cut with levamisole, a cattle deworming drug that can kill you. On the way, the author uncovers a bunch of interesting information about the global cocaine trade. Part one looks at the levamisole-tainted cocaine in Seattle, part two investigates the global trade and part three looks at the death toll from the last 100 years of US drug policy and argues for legalization as the best solution.




technology
Although I often take issue with his conclusions, Malcolm Gladwell's essay Small Change: Why the Revolution Will Not Be Tweeted is a great look at the limits of social media inspired activism.

Generation Why? One of the best essays I've ever read. It's a review of The Social Network, a critique of Facebook and a plea for our generation to do something better without being condescending.

How Google Dominates Us: a much-needed synthesis of the most recent books about Google exploring privacy, their search algorithms, and the ubiquity of Google in our lives

Wired on Amazon's increasing domination of the Internet.

A profile of Sheryl Sandberg, the Google VP who left to become the Chief Operating Officer for Facebook. Also one of the few women in Silicon Valley.

The Great Tech War of 2012: Apple vs. Amazon vs. Facebook vs. Google.


I read way too much about the future of journalism on the internet, but this Columbia Journalism Review piece is one of my favorites. It calls into question many of the agreed-upon solutions for the future of news, like that news organizations will become less prominent and we'll see more "citizen journalism". It argues that specialized knowledge and expertise is still important for news to serve its watchdog function.




feminism, gender, sex, LGBTQ
Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and A World Without Rape—edited by Jessica Valenti and Jaclyn Friedman
I cannot recommend this book highly enough. It goes way beyond rape to look at the ways society constructs female sexuality, issues of consent, and how we can go about building a better model of sexuality that will help everyone have more fulfilling sex lives and relationships.

The Madame Curie Complex: The Hidden History of Women in Science—Julie des Jardins
Using Marie Curie as a starting point, the author looks at the role women have played in scientific discoveries, and the ways narratives of women in science are constructed to fit in with society's standards for "acceptable" roles for women.

Dan Savage, America's sex columnist, on the virtues of nonmonogamy for saving marriages.

Teaching Good Sex: a novel sex ed class at a high school in Pennsylvania.

A good overview of feminism and its history from Bitch magazine.

Savior vs. Savior: Looking at the murder of Dr. George Tiller, an abortion provider by Scott Roeder, an anti-abortion activist.

Schrodinger's Rapist: A Guy's Guide to Approaching Strange Women Without Getting Maced

Queering Ecology: Orion Magazine looks at queer behavior in the animal kingdom

blogs/sites:
Feministing: general feminist news and commentary
Feministe: general feminist news and commentary
Savage Love, Dan Savage's sex advice column, which is awesome
Microagressions, a Tumblr which looks at people's daily experiences with sexism, racism, etc.

I'm not getting over it: a reflection on rape culture

Trigger warning: This piece deals with stories about rape, assault and violence. It also involves me talking about my own life, including my body and my sex life, in a level of detail that might make some people uncomfortable.

Disclaimer: I am a white, straight, able-bodied, cisgendered woman, and my personal experiences with feminism and rape culture have been influenced by those identities. This essay is meant to be a personal reflection, and as such, it’s not an all-inclusive look at how all people experience and perceive rape culture. I in no way wish to discount the experiences of people of color, queer people, transgendered people and people with disabilities, and would welcome any criticisms, corrections or additions.

1

In Ecuador I walk down the street, morning, mid-afternoon, dark approaching. I’m wearing skinny jeans, normal jeans, corduroys, a short skirt, a long skirt, a t-shirt, a sweater, low-cut, high neck, sneakers, sandals, boots, hair up, hair down. I’m walking slowly, walking quickly, looking at the ground, looking ahead, lost, sure of where I’m going. I pass a guy, or a group of them, and they call after me: Hey baby. Can’t you even hit on me in Spanish?, I wonder. Hola, mi amor. They laugh. They whistle. They stare. I want to shout at them, Tengo un nombre. Soy una persona. I want to ask them, has that ever worked for you? Ever, in the history of the world, has a woman heard a strange man yell something at her on the street and said, Oh hey, I actually do want to dance with him, go out with him, fuck him, marry him and have his babies? But I guess it’s not really about that. It’s about power. It’s about control.

2

I used to experience these things as isolated incidents.

The catcalls start in middle school, the same year we have the history teacher who supposedly seats girls in his class by chest size—largest in the front. My eighth grade boyfriend and I rarely talk about our hopes and ambitions in life, but he makes sure to tell me I look hot when I wear tight shirts. I refuse to shave my legs or armpits as a gesture of feminist resistance. Friends, guys and people I meet online all feel compelled to point out that hair removal is just another part of hygiene, like brushing your teeth.

In high school, I run cross country for two seasons. On the way home from practice, a guy six years my senior sits next to me on the bus. He asks for my number, and I pray he’ll leave me in peace. I don’t yell at him even when he won’t stop talking to me, because I don’t want to cause a scene. I finally give in and start shaving sophomore year. Although my times on the 5k put me near the middle of the girls’ team, I’m far more concerned with the fact that my hair never seems to stay in a nice-looking ponytail like everyone else’s. I gain ten pounds.  I decide to quit junior year when we get a new coach who takes things too seriously. My mom, concerned about my health, asks me, “Aren’t you worried you’ll get fat if you don’t exercise?”

Later that year, I have lunch with a guy in my aikido class because I want to practice my Spanish with him. He’s in his 30s and I’m still not legal, but he tries to take me to a hotel. He kisses me goodbye on the lips, and I’m too afraid to pull away. I get home and call my best friend, because I feel bad. I told him we could hang out again, but I don’t want to see him. I’m afraid of what he might do, but I’m almost as afraid that he’ll think I’m mean if I don’t answer his calls. She tells me I’m never going to talk to him again, and makes me program him in my phone as DO NOT ANSWER. He calls me almost every day for the next two weeks, leaving long messages in Spanglish telling me how much he loves me. I spend these two weeks terrified that he’ll figure out where I live and come looking for me. I feel dirty and ashamed, and I refuse to say anything to my mother. I’m scared she’ll say it’s my fault for going to meet a guy I didn’t know very well. I’m angry at myself for being stupid enough to think that I could have a friendship with a guy who happens to be older than me without him wanting more. I wonder what I would have done if he’d gotten me to that hotel. I wonder what I would have done if he’d tried to hurt or rape me. I tell myself I would have fought back, would have hit and kicked and screamed until he stopped and left me alone. But I wonder—if I didn’t run away screaming when he asked me to go to a hotel in the first place, if I willingly sat through lunch with him, if I hugged him goodbye even though he was the last person on earth I wanted to touch, if he kissed me and I said nothing—what would it take to make me actually stand up for myself?

3

I have, at various times in my life, been called beautiful, ugly, fat, skinny, a prude, a slut, a tease. I have worn each of these labels with pride, hated myself for being called each of them. Skinny me desperately wanted breasts. Ugly me was proud that men wouldn’t be tempted by my body, that I would be ignored, left in peace. Fat me loves my curves and hates the lack of self-control that keeps me from running four times a week, from leaving that last piece of bread for someone else to finish. Prudish me took pride in not giving in, in being stronger than desire, and slutty me loves screaming yes to someone I want to be with. And me, whole me, soul me hates fragmenting myself, letting these labels define me, work their way inside my skin and influence my thoughts, my perceptions, my very sense of who I am.

4

I hate the thought of someone else judging me silently, so I preempt their judgment by labeling myself first. I know I’m not as thin as I used to be.  I believe in fat acceptance wholeheartedly, but my willingness to support it only matters to me if I can prove that I’m “strong” enough not to have a double chin. It’s so much easier to fight someone else’s battles, so much easier to say you’re helping an oppressed group than fighting for your own liberation. A skinny girl preaching acceptance is radical, forward-thinking and empathetic. A fat girl asking for the same rights has to accept herself for who she is before she can work for change. I tell myself that I’m not really fat, not enough that anyone would come out and say it, and I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse. I feel disingenuous for identifying with either label. I hate that I have these thoughts at all, that people can’t just be people and a body can’t just be a body.

5

Sometimes I have to remind myself of all the things my body can do, all the ways I am powerful. True, I’m no great athlete, but I know how to move. I have run a mile in under seven minutes. I have hiked over a dozen miles in a day carrying a 30 pound backpack. I have had at least eight orgasms in a single hour. I have run barefoot through mud and rolled around in grass, stood naked in a canopy tower and felt the breeze play with my hair.

6

I can’t deal with the clubs anymore. A song is playing, and it’s always the same song. The lyrics may change, but the message never does. There’s a video too, faceless women, a dark room, a pole, a man who says things and dresses like a businessman, but we all know what business he’s really in. I know it could never be my body on the pole—maybe in real life, but not in the video. I hate knowing I’m not worthy of being an object and hate that feeling even more. I want the story my body tells to be mine. I want its pride and accomplishment to be written in sweat, drive, determination, not in the desires of someone I’ve never talked to.  Looking around, I see couples, women bent at impossible angles, men scheming to find a partner. And the happy groups, and the people who know each other, and it isn’t all bad I swear. But those images get locked in my head—disembodied tits, a roaming hand heading south—and I can’t breathe. A guy asks me to dance and I want to shove him up against a wall and ask him who he thinks he is. I’m so angry all the time, and it really isn’t his fault. An innocent question. I shake my head. No, I do not want to dance. I want to smash patriarchy and rape culture, but I love club music. Some nights I take another shot and let my hips find the rhythm without listening or thinking too hard. Some nights I want to walk outside, wander around by myself, dare a guy to find me and try something because I will smash his fucking face into the ground. Some nights I go home feeling empty.

7

When I had someone, this was easier. When I could go home, we could take our clothes off slowly, relishing each moment, drawing ourselves into each other closer and closer together, when I could scream without reservation, feel loved, feel whole, feel wanted in the best possible way, when I could separate being wanted from being an object, separate sex from the meat market and just breathe him in deep, I felt nourished. Now, it feels like I’m just waiting to get that back. I know I should be strong and confident on my own. I know I don’t need a partner to complete me. But sometimes it’s so hard to stay grounded without someone to hold on to. It’s so hard to remember that relationships can be mutual, that love can exist without objectifying, and that even being an object can be fun when the person you’re dressing sexy for is someone you know and care about, someone who knows that you’re so much more than just a pair of striking eyes and a nice rack.

8

New CDC research says that one in five women in the United States will be raped in her lifetime.

I have four younger female cousins.

9

A friend told me that she decided to have sex for the first time because she was afraid. She had had a friend try to take advantage of her, and it made her realize that given the choices she makes in her life, the fact that she spends time drinking in the company of men, she couldn’t be sure that that wouldn’t happen to her again. So she wanted to control her first sexual experience, wanted it to be with someone she loved and cared about. And she did love him and care about him, and she would have done it anyway. But she wanted to do it sooner rather than later, because she was worried that if she didn't give up her virginity, someone was going to take it from her. This way, she knew that if she ever was raped, at least it wouldn’t be her first time.

10

Recently, I’ve started thinking that I want to have sex with a woman. I can’t tell if this is because I actually want to have sex with a woman or just because the female body has been so sexualized and so objectified that I want it for the aura of sexiness it seems to radiate. I can’t decide if not knowing matters. Sex columnist Dan Savage frequently gets letters from readers with fetishes and fantasies ranging from pie-fighting to hardcore humiliation. These readers often wonder where their desires came from, and Dan usually tells them that it’s not important. Even if you can identify the precise cultural norms and facets of your upbringing that lead you to want what you do, at the end of the day, you’re still going to want it. Better to just go for it and see if you like it or not. But I can’t shake the feeling that those two methods of desire are fundamentally different. If I actually wanted to have sex with a woman, I would do it. It would be about her, about us, about connecting. But if it’s just about the female body, then I’m lusting after an object, not a person. How can I reconcile that with everything else I believe in?

11

Sometimes I get told I’m too angry. I should learn to compartmentalize, mellow a bit. Yes, we live in a sexist fucking world, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun. I try, and it works sometimes. But it never lasts for long. Frat guys at Yale run around campus chanting, “No means yes! Yes means anal!” At the University of Vermont, they distribute a survey asking members who they’d like to rape. Police officers warn women in New York wearing short skirts that they’re putting themselves in danger of being raped, and this is after Slutwalks have been going on for a few months. An eleven year old in Texas is gang-raped by eighteen men, and the New York Times feels it’s relevant to mention that she wore clothes appropriate for a much older woman.

And god, do we have it good in the United States of America. In Ecuador, lesbians are sometimes locked up by their families in prisons where they are raped by men in order to “turn them straight”. During the Guatemalan civil war, raping Mayan woman was a key tactic used by the US-backed state army, because they were the ones who gave birth to the enemy. Rape gangs patrol the refugee camps and temporary shacks in Haiti, terrorizing women who are already living in the post-earthquake nightmare. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, it’s estimated that 40 women per day are raped just in the South Kivu area, and hundreds of thousands of women have been raped in total, just a few more casualties in a conflict which has claimed 5 million lives. Women in the US Army serving in Iraq have died of dehydration because they won’t drink water. They’re afraid of having to go to the bathroom at night because they are afraid that their fellow soldiers will rape them.

Ask me how much longer I could keep writing this list. Ask me how I’m supposed to sleep at night knowing that somewhere on earth, a woman is living through hell. Ask me how I can live knowing how many women are walking around feeling his breath on their neck, feeling broken, feeling guilty, feeling powerless.

12

Feminist Harriet J explains how social conditioning can poison women, make us less likely to fight for ourselves even in situations where our lives depend on it.

If we teach women that there are only certain ways they may acceptably behave, we should not be surprised when they behave in those ways. 

And we should not be surprised when they behave these ways during attempted or completed rapes.

Women who are taught not to speak up too loudly or too forcefully or too adamantly or too demandingly are not going to shout “NO” at the top of their goddamn lungs just because some guy is getting uncomfortably close.

People wonder why women don’t “fight back,” but they don’t wonder about it when women back down in arguments, are interrupted, purposefully lower and modulate their voices to express less emotion, make obvious signals that they are uninterested in conversation or being in closer physical proximity and are ignored.

And then, all of a sudden, when women are raped, all these natural and invisible social interactions become evidence that the woman wasn’t truly raped. Because she didn’t fight back, or yell loudly, or run, or kick, or punch. She let him into her room when it was obvious what he wanted. She flirted with him, she kissed him. She stopped saying no, after a while.

13

I have never been raped, which is to say, I have been lucky. Do I have a right to feel so traumatized when I don’t have a night to relive over and over, don’t have a smell or sound that will make me flash back to a moment when I had no control? I talk to my friend about this, about secondary trauma, the idea that just witnessing enough can make you unable to fall asleep, unable to walk down the street at night without feeling terrified every time you see movement in the shadows. I’m not a victim, but there are still places I won’t go by myself, situations I can’t feel safe in because I’m afraid of what might happen.

Sometimes I think we’re all a little traumatized. How else to explain our inability to say no even when we really don’t want it, our refusal to stand up for our desires, our true wishes? How else to explain the times I’ve had sex with guys I didn’t want to just because it was easier to not speak up, easier to give in than to own my no? How else to explain that when I ask my younger cousin what her biggest fear is, she tells me it’s getting grabbed, and when I ask her what that means, she tells me a girl at her school was kidnapped and sexually assaulted by a stranger and she doesn’t want it to happen to her too? How else to explain that, as much as I want to, I’m terrified to have a daughter, terrified to think of trying to keep her safe from a world that would control her, hold her down, kick her, spit in her face and tell her she asked for it?

14

Every time I have this conversation, more stories come out. Friends, relatives, people I thought I knew tell me about eating disorders, suicide attempts, cutting, abuse. I sit in my kitchen with a friend well past midnight, and she tells me she’s never been raped. But she did have a boyfriend who pushed her off the bed and sometimes kicked her and tried to have sex with her when she didn’t want to and she had to fight him off. And then a few times, he had sex with her while she was asleep or passed out. And I tell her, that is rape. You can’t consent to anything when you’re blackout drunk, when you’re not conscious. And she stares at me. She thinks. And then she talks.

 How can I say that? I feel like I went through something so horrible that I don’t even remember. It’s like I’m looking at my life with different eyes. It’s like waking from a deep sleep into a hellish nightmare, begging yourself to go back to sleep when you do.

She stops. We talk about other things. I ask her about his other actions, the way he treated her during their relationship.

 If I’d ever said to him ‘you raped me last night’, I’m pretty sure he would have hit me.

And yet somehow, we stay silent.

No one else knew these things. It took me until our conversation to decide that this happened to me. It’s hard to think about yourself in that way. How could that thing happen to you? That thing you swore would never happen to you, that you were invincible from…

She still won’t say, “I was raped.” She doesn’t want to tell herself she was abused. An hour later we’re still talking, about silence, about blame, about how many women will live through this in their lifetimes.

Face it: more than 1 in 5 women have been raped. They just don’t know it.

15

This isn’t just a female issue. Genderqueer and trans people experience disproportionately high rates of sexual assault, and plenty of men are raped too. The one thing that’s clear is who’s responsible: well over 90% of rapists are men. How are we still telling ourselves this is only a women’s issue? How is it that I can have this conversation with my cousins, female friends and acquaintances, but I’ve never sat down with my brother to ask for his help in making it stop?

16

It’s all related. It has to be. The anti-civilization writer Derrick Jensen has twenty premises he bases his argument against civilization on. Premise fourteen states, in part, “If we did not hate ourselves, we could not allow our homes—and our bodies—to be poisoned.”

Harriet is right. We’re conditioned not to fight back, not to tell, not to cause a stir, not to create controversy. We’re conditioned to lie there and pray that someday we’ll be able to forget.

But Derrick is right too.

If women weren’t bombarded with images of perfection day in and day out, maybe fewer of us would hate our bodies. We’re raising a generation of feminists who are smart and media literate, and we’re still killing ourselves every day trying to be perfect. Courtney Martin said it best in her book Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters: “We are the daughters of feminists who said, ‘You can be anything’, and we heard, ‘You have to be everything.’” We understand that fat is ok, but we still think we’re better than that. We need to be in control all the time. We overschedule ourselves and run events and meetings, and when that isn’t enough, we control our food with a finger shoved down our throat, control our pain with a small knife tracing lines on our forearms. The hatred is there, we’ve just found ways to bury it deeper.

17

What would the world look like if we weren’t taught to hate ourselves and our bodies?

It might look like a woman screaming NO the next time someone tries to move things further than she wants them to go.

It might look like a man refusing to stay silent about his rape even though he fears not everyone will take him seriously.

It might look like women loving and admiring each other instead of constantly judging and trying to be the best.

It might look like me taking responsibility for my sex life, not sleeping with a guy I’m not attracted to because he’s there and refusing to say anything when he spends less than a minute trying to get me off, because I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or cause conflict.

It might look like all of us reacting with love and support when someone comes forward with a story of abuse, instead of finding ways to call their experiences into question.

It might look like my friend realizing that even if she is drunk, no one has the right to violate her body or her trust.

18

Derrick Jensen’s fifteenth premise is my favorite: Love does not imply pacifism.

I think of all the women I know, all the pain I’ve seen, beautiful faces contorted remembering the unimaginable. I see the voices so long silenced, the love I feel, the courage it takes to finally share your story. And it makes me want to fight.

I’m done being silent about what I feel, what I experience. I’m sick of feeling like I don’t have the right to be visible in public. I hate that my freedom to move is challenged by the actions of a few, that there are situations in which I can’t feel safe, can’t be myself. I don’t have all the answers, and I know I can’t stop myself from being victimized. But I can’t let that keep me from speaking out.

I’m done sitting silently when people make jokes about rape. I’m done letting guys have sex with me when I don’t want to. I’m done being nice. I’m done not talking about these issues with my guy friends because I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.

I’m declaring war on rape culture, on assault, on abuse, on everything that takes our right to control our own bodies away from us. I don’t have a tactics manual. I don’t even have a game plan. But I’m going to keep pushing forward until we make a world where my daughter won’t have to fight the same battles I did, a world where all of us can fall asleep at night feeling safe and healthy and whole.


An infinite amount of thanks go out to my friend Madelyn for reading and editing this piece, and to all the friends who shared their stories with me and made this possible.


Edit: This piece can be downloaded in PDF form here.

The importance of choice

Disclaimer: This post involves me talking about my reproductive system in a personal and political manner. If you’re easily offended, get over it or go elsewhere. This post has been cross-posted on the Feministing Community blog.

This month, my period was nine days late.

Days one and two, I didn’t worry. My cycle is pretty regular, but it fluctuates a bit, and a day or two past due isn’t anything unusual. Days three and four, I started worrying a bit. I crossed my fingers and told myself it wasn’t a huge deal.

 Day five, I told my mom, just in case. I’ve had one or two seriously late periods before, and for me, the point when you tell someone else makes a big difference. If only you know, your worries are all theoretical. What if I am pregnant? you ask yourself. Who would I tell? How would I tell them? As soon as you tell someone, as soon as you verbally acknowledge the possibility, you move on to planning. Ok, you say, my mom/boyfriend/best friend knows this is happening. They’re going to be with me no matter how this plays out. You start thinking about options and choices.

 Day six, I took a home pregnancy test. It came back negative, but still no period. I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled anyway, and since the last thing I wanted was to head off to Ecuador and discover that I really was pregnant once I got there, I asked my doctor to do a blood test. It came back negative on day nine, and my period finally started within two minutes of me getting off the phone.

I was lucky. But it could have gone the other way. I could have been pregnant now or this spring or last year or a dozen other times. I’ve had one or two other minor pregnancy scares, but none of them—not even this one—has been a truly scary experience for me. The reason for that is because I know that where I live, it’s still legal for me (and only me) to decide what I want to do if I do get pregnant.

I’ve never been pregnant, so I can’t say what I would do in that situation with 100% certainty. But I’m 99% sure I would have an abortion. I’m twenty years old and in school. I’m about to spend four months in Ecuador. I want to travel the world and be an investigative journalist and do a bunch of other things that would make me a terrible, negligent parent for the next five or ten years. I believe that there are too many people on earth, and I have no interest in carrying a pregnancy to term only to let someone else raise my child. I promised myself a long time ago that I would never let someone else raise one of my children.

During the week or so where I was worrying and thinking about my options, I had this conversation with my mom and my doctor. I asked my mom if my gynecologist’s office does abortions, and she said yes. Before I got the blood test, I asked my general practitioner if anyone in her office does abortions, and she said they did. We discussed medical versus surgical abortions for a few minutes. She answered all my questions thoroughly.

While talking to her, at no point did any of the politics surrounding abortion enter our discussion. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t ask me if I had considered other options. She behaved like a medical professional answering questions about a medical procedure.

I’ve been pro-choice my whole life. I vehemently support a woman’s right to choose whatever she thinks is best for her if she gets pregnant, and I believe access to abortion is a right and an issue of social justice. There are few things that make me as angry as politicians and zealots who argue against access to reproductive healthcare, including abortion. This issue has always felt more personal to me than almost anything else. I’m a sexually active young woman. Pretty much any policy aimed at limiting access to reproductive care is going to affect me or someone very close to me in a negative way.

When I was sitting in my bathroom, counting down the two minutes before I could look at the result of my pregnancy test, I was a little bit nervous. I was hoping and keeping my fingers crossed. But I also knew I had an out. I knew that if I didn’t want to carry a pregnancy to term, I wouldn’t have to.

For millions of women around the world and in the US, this isn’t the case. Most counties have no abortion clinics in them. Looking online, the cheapest abortion I could find in Seattle cost $420—a small fortune for many people. Women often have to drive hours and spend the night far away from home to get an abortion. Access is already a huge issue, especially if you’re poor. And thanks to the Republican Party’s crusading anti-women platform, it’s getting worse.

When you’re sitting in your bathroom, underwear around your ankles, praying to God that that second line doesn’t show up on the stick you just peed on, you want every option you can get. You want to know that whatever happens to you from that point on will be your choice, and that you will be supported no matter what. Most of all, you don’t want anyone who has never been in that position, anyone who isn’t capable of being in that position, making laws deciding if, when and how you get to make choices about your own body.

Fat acceptance

I'm five feet, five and a half inches tall, and I weigh 150.7 pounds. This gives me a body mass index (BMI) of 24.7, just a hair below the cutoff for overweight (25).

I used to be skinny. I had no breasts to speak of until well into seventh grade. I had bony knees tiny legs and ribs you could count, if only just. By freshman year of high school, I had developed a bit. I ran cross country that fall, stopped running once the season was over, kept eating four meals a day and gained ten pounds that winter. In my first two years of college, I've put on another fifteen pounds.

By American standards, I'm an average weight, probably even below average. I've always loved my body--especially during the two or three years when I had a respectable chest and still held on to my flat stomach. I've never felt "fat", or had any particular desire to lose weight. But over the past two years, as I've gained more weight, I've found it harder to look in the mirror and feel proud. Initially, I thought this was because of the way I looked--the rolls of fat on my side that appeared when I bent over, or the way my cheekbones didn't stick out quite as much as they used to. I told myself I wouldn't always look like this, that it would get better when I didn't have school and three jobs to keep me busy and stressed.

After a year of feeling this way, during which I stayed about the same weight, I realized I wasn't mad at myself for the way I looked. I was mad because I wasn't taking care of my body. With an all-you-can-eat meal plan, I'd been eating more than I was used to, and I felt worse for it. I wasn't exercising regularly. I made some choices to change this. I signed up for aerobics classes, got off Whitman's meal plan so I could cook healthy food for myself and tried to limit my binging on chips and cookies a bit.

Guess what happened? I stayed exactly the same weight. I might have even gotten bigger. And I do not care anymore.

My parents, like many well-meaning people, have fallen into the skinny = healthy trap. When I told Mom I hated cross country and was quitting junior year of high school, she was concerned about my health without a regular source of exercise. The way she chose to phrase this concern was, "Aren't you worried you'll get fat if you don't exercise?" This summer, I proudly declared that I didn't care about my stomach fat anymore, because I had more important things to worry about and I wasn't "overweight" anyway. My dad's response: "Don't you think you are, a little bit?" I responded with a vehement, "No!" Later, I had another thought. What if I was? Would it even matter?

Since then, I've thought about fat a lot. Here's my non-radical reasoning about why fat is the wrong question:

Americans (and other people, to be fair) eat terrible food and don't exercise. Many people could stand to be more healthy. But healthier doesn't mean skinnier. People can be healthy at tons of different weights. Some obese people eat very little and exercise regularly. Some skinny people can eat whatever they want without gaining any weight. Most of us are somewhere in the middle. So sure, encourage people to be healthy, eat well, lay off the junk food and exercise regularly. Maybe they'll lose weight in the process. Maybe they won't. But either way, they'll certainly be healthier, and better off. There is absolutely no need to shame people for their weight or teach them that they are disgusting or unworthy of love or some other awful shit like that.

And here's my more radical reasoning (thanks to the amazing Lindy West at The Stranger for giving me some of these ideas in her awesome essay Hello, I Am Fat, which you should go read right now.)

Being healthy is an admirable trait, but it's not the be all and end all of human existence. What if someone wants to eat fried food all the time? That's their right as a person. What if someone has absolutely no desire to lose weight? That's absolutely their prerogative, because it's their body. Not yours. Not society's. Not everybody has to be healthy, just like not everyone has to be well-read or fluent in three languages or able to cook five course meals or pilot fighter jets. These are all traits that make for pleasant, well-rounded people, but they're not essential to live a happy, fulfilling life. If someone wants to be unhealthy, that's completely their choice. If someone happens to be fat, there's no guarantee that they are unhealthy at all, and either way, you don't have a right to tell them how to live their life.

People berate and ridicule fat people, tell them that they're imperfect, half-formed people who just need to lose a little weight before they can fin love and happiness. People who do this claim to be concerned about health and people's well being, which is bullshit. As Lindy points out, health includes mental health, and there are literally millions of fat people who're tried to lose weight to no avail.

For people who are concerned about public health, I would like to point something else out. I've previously quoted Raj Patel, author of Stuffed and Starved, who argues that obesity is a symptom not of "an impoverished faculty of choice" but "an impoverished range of choices". Obesity correlates with poverty, because poor people are more likely to live in food deserts and to not be able to afford fresh produce, gym memberships and a host of other things that keep the rich looking like covergirls. So if you're really, really concerned about health and people's well being, you'd be much better off pushing for food system reform (an end to corn subsidies, better social welfare programs, subsidized produce, etc.) than you would shaming fat people.

Obviously, that's what I want to do. But I'm making a promise to myself. Starting today, I promise to take good care of myself--regular exercise, not too much junk food. I promise to love myself no matter how much I weigh. I promise to never try to lose weight, because that's so not the point. I promise to remember all the amazing things my body can do, like hiking up ridiculous hills. I promise to never encourage anyone else to lose weight or shame them for their body size or appearance. I promise to be aware of thin privilege. I promise to fight with everything I have to build a better food system, and if I happen to have stomach fat rolls while I'm doing it, I promise to not give a fuck.

Quoted: "Phaedra Starling" on approaching strange women

Phaedra Starling (not her real name) explains how men should go about approaching women in public in this awesome piece (Schrödinger’s Rapist).

You want to say Hi to the cute girl on the subway. How will she react? Fortunately, I can tell you with some certainty, because she’s already sending messages to you. Looking out the window, reading a book, working on a computer, arms folded across chest, body away from you = do not disturb. So, y’know, don’t disturb her. Really. Even to say that you like her hair, shoes, or book. A compliment is not always a reason for women to smile and say thank you. 

If you speak to a woman who is otherwise occupied, you’re sending a subtle message. It is that your desire to interact trumps her right to be left alone. If you pursue a conversation when she’s tried to cut it off, you send a message. It is that your desire to speak trumps her right to be left alone. And each of those messages indicates that you believe your desires are a legitimate reason to override her rights.

Being female in public

Last week, I met a man I didn’t know in a rural village on the side of the road and walked with him away from the road for 20 minutes through thick brush to get to a more remote village. After attending the farmer’s organization meeting we were going to, he walked me back to the road and waited with me until I got in a shared taxi back to the city. I felt completely safe throughout this experience, which didn’t seem very remarkable until I reflected on the fact that I probably wouldn’t feel safe in a very similar situation in the US.

Ghanaian men are definitely forward. Walking down the street, I get far more catcalls than I would in the US, plus the odd marriage proposal. A lot of this is not gender specific; it’s just because I’m white and visibly foreign. But even the gender-based attention doesn’t feel threatening here the way the same actions might in the US. In one walk, three men might chase after me, professing their love and asking if they can come to the US and marry me. All I have to do is reply with my well-worn lines—“I already have eight Ghanaian husbands, but when I go through them all, I’ll let you know”; “Your farm/taxi/business would need to be much bigger for me to marry you” and “I would love for you to visit me in the US, as long as you can buy the plane ticket”—and I get left alone. Some men are certainly persistent, but no one’s pushy. With the exception of people trying to sell me things in Accra, I’ve never had someone continue to pursue me after I’ve made it clear that I wasn’t interested.

In the US, this isn’t always the case. I’ve been lucky enough to have a life relatively free from sexual harassment. I’ve never been raped, molested or even groped in public. But I’ve had my share of unpleasant experiences with men who were a little too forward. There was the guy on the bus who slid into the seat next to me, asked me for my number and was offended when I said no (I was 14; he was at least 20).There was the construction worker on the house next door to ours who started chatting with me in a friendly way, then quickly began asking if I was home alone (I was, and I was also 15 at the time), telling me how good I looked and staring at me when I came outside to get my laundry off the clothesline. There was the guy in my aikido class who said he wanted to hang out sometime and give me a chance to practice my Spanish, but then insisted I get in his car with him, tried to take me to a hotel room, kissed me before letting me leave and then called me at least five times in the next week, leaving long, rambling messages about how much he loved me. I never talked to him again, and I never went back to aikido class.

On my last trip to Ghana, I was wandering around Osu (a neighborhood in Accra) with my friend when a rather intoxicated man came out of his house and attempted to hug/drape himself over my friend. She ducked, so he landed on me instead. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but I figured it couldn’t be good. I tried to get him off me, which was difficult, until a woman emerged from another house and started yelling at the man, “What do you think you are doing? Are you trying to rape these girls?” The man detached himself and wandered off.

I know my experiences in Ghana are biased, and influenced by my whiteness and foreignness as much as my gender. That said, it’s simultaneously awesome and sad how safe I feel here and how comparatively unsafe I’ve felt at times in the US. I have no doubt that in Ghana, if anyone did try to attack me and I started screaming, people would come and help me. I wish I could say the same for the US, but often people aren’t willing to intervene in something they perceive to be a private problem, even if they’re clearly witnessing abusive behavior.

In contrast to my experience in Osu, I felt completely isolated in each of the American experiences I’ve described above, even though all of them occurred in public places. Even though I read feminist blogs, understand what rape culture is and could deconstruct victim blaming in my sleep, I didn’t want to tell my parents or friends about the guy in my aikido class, for fear that I would be criticized for acting stupidly or leading him on. It took a very good friend listening to me cry for an hour on the phone for me to realize that I had absolutely no obligation to have any further contact with this man.

By the time I have a daughter, I want her to be able to walk down a street—in the US, in Ghana—without being afraid. I want her to feel no obligation to indulge anyone who disrespects her right to be left alone. I want her to understand that being female in public is not a crime. And if someone does try to hurt her, I want everyone who’s there, who can see what’s taking place to form a wall around her, protect her, call the police, scream “NO” and defend her right to be and feel safe.